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I was an Altar boy when I was Younger, we had a strange List of Rules to Follow pt. 2 - St. Agnes

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pb3u2/i_was_an_altar_boy_when_i_was_younger_we_had_a/) Another day at St. Michael’s passed in a haze, with each minute stretching into eternity as the sun's golden fingers crept toward the horizon. Evening was fast approaching, and with it came the somber call of the bells that beckoned the faithful to gather at St. Michael's once more. The setting sun bathed the chapel in a warm, golden glow. Acting as an altar boy for the day, it was my solemn duty to assist Father Matthias during the evening mass. Donning the ceremonial robe and lighting the candles, I found solace in the rituals and routines that accompanied the service. With each step, I moved with purpose, a silent observer in the grand theater of worship. The chapel itself was a place of contradictions—a sanctuary of both solace and unease. While the intricate stained glass windows bathed the pews in a mosaic of colors, they also cast a web of distorted shadows, like ethereal fingers reaching out to grasp the souls of the congregation. But the true source of my discomfort lay elsewhere. It was the statue of St. Agnes that loomed beside the altar—a lifelike figure carved from stone with eyes that seemed to follow me wherever I moved. It was as if the saint herself bore witness to my every thought and action, her cold gaze a constant reminder of something unseen but deeply foreboding. As the church service continued, I performed my duties diligently, assisting Father Matt in various tasks. The specifics of the rituals and prayers are a blur in my memory, overshadowed by the growing unease I felt at the time in the presence of St. Agnes. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, scrutinized, and judged by those unyielding stone eyes. I began to question my own sanity as I swore that, from the corner of my eye, I saw that St. Agnes had her head turned to face me. It was as if the statue had come to life, but whenever I looked directly at her, she remained facing the congregation, almost as if she snapped back into place just as I turned to look. The tension reached its breaking point when Father Matt led the congregation in prayer, and we all bowed our heads. I closed my eyes as well, joining in with the rest of the faithful. Yet, it was during this moment of collective devotion that I felt the stare of St. Agnes more intensely than ever before. In my mind's eye, I pictured her turned toward me, her gaze unrelenting and piercing. Unable to withstand the pressure any longer, I reluctantly opened my eyes. St. Agnes remained facing the pews, just as she always did. A wave of relief washed over me as I continued to stare at her while the prayer went on. As I continued to stare, I felt an ominous presence looming over me. Slowly and silently, the head of St. Agnes began to turn, until her gaze was upon me. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the statue as her head completed its eerie rotation to face me fully, not until its cold, lifeless stone eyes bore into my soul. My heart began to race, and I slammed my eyes shut in terror. In a state of complete horror and fear, I clung to my faith, hoping for the prayer's swift conclusion. When it was finally over and the congregation began to stir, I hesitated to open my eyes again. But when I finally mustered the courage to do so, I found St. Agnes had returned to her original position, her unchanging visage once more directed at the congregation. The unsettling experience left me shaken and filled with a growing sense of dread, deepening the mystery surrounding this eerie statue. Now, it was time for confession. I joined the line of the faithful, each step bringing me closer to the confessional booth. The sensation of being watched, particularly by the unrelenting stare of the statue of St. Agnes, grew more intense with every moment. It was as though the very walls of the chapel were closing in, and the eyes of the saint bore into my very soul. By the time I stood next up in line, the feeling was nearly unbearable. My heart raced, my palms grew clammy, and a lump formed in my throat. I rushed inside the confessional booth, the heavy wooden door closing behind me with a mournful creak. I was now alone, encased in the dimly lit chamber, with only the screen that separated me from the priest. Sitting in the confessional, I felt the weight of the sins I was about to confess press down upon me. The shadows danced around me, and the ominous presence of St. Agnes's statue seemed to permeate even into this sacred space. It was as if the chapel itself held its breath, awaiting my admission of guilt. Beginning my confession, I waited for Father Matt to formally address me. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," I began hesitantly. "Go on, my child," Father Matt encouraged. "I... I overheard the nuns talking," I admitted. "About my mother and what happened to her." Father Matt's voice remained gentle as he replied, "It's not right to eavesdrop on others, Andy. We should respect their privacy and their conversations." "I know, Father," I replied, my guilt heavy. "But I needed to know more about my mother's time here." Father Matt sighed softly before speaking again, "We must remember that there are certain things that should remain in the past, my son." I nodded, acknowledging his wisdom. But there was something else I needed to confess, something that gnawed at me like a persistent itch. "Father," I began hesitantly, "I also heard them talking about... the basement. About my mother going down there." Father Matt's tone grew stern, and a hint of concern entered his voice. "Andy, you must never inquire about the basement. It's an off-limits topic, and you must promise me that you won't delve into it any further." I gulped, realizing I had crossed a line I shouldn't have. "I promise, Father. I won't ask about the basement again." With my confession complete, Father Matt offered me absolution, and I left the confessional booth, but I couldn't help but feel a heavy weight of unease pressing upon me. Father Matthias's words echoed in my mind, urging me to let go of my curiosity about the basement, something I’m not sure I could do. As I walked away, I found myself staring at my shoes, lost in thought.Then, a chilling memory surged to the forefront of my mind—the shadow I had seen in the courtyard the day Sarah pushed me. It was a grotesque and nightmarish sight, something that should never exist in the realm of the living. The shadow appeared human, yet its proportions were impossibly distorted. Its long arms seemed to stretch so far down that its hands had to be scraping the ground, although I couldn’t tell from where I was standing. The mere recollection of that horrendous monstrosity was enough to make me shudder in fear. Lost in these disturbing thoughts, I began to notice something odd about the chapel. My gaze fell upon a large crack in the wooden floor, one that hadn't been there before. I only noticed because I had to take an exaggerated step so I wouldn’t trip over it. It snaked across the aisle, a sinister rift in the very foundation of St. Michael's. But that wasn't all. As I looked around, I realized that the chapel had transformed. The pews were now in a state of decay, their wood rotten and splintered. The windows were shattered, casting eerie beams of moonlight into the once-sacred space. The sky outside was pitch black, devoid of stars or any semblance of normalcy, aside from a full moon, slightly obscured by the crumpled frames of the glass panes. The pit of my stomach plummeted as I turned my attention to the statues that lined the chapel, my gaze lingering on St. Agnes. The other statues, those of saints and angels, lay in ruins, their forms crumpled and broken, but St. Agnes remained untouched, her cold stare now piercing me harder than ever before.Panic welled up within me, and I began to notice something even more disturbing—the absence of any other souls in the chapel. The congregation had vanished, and I stood alone amidst the desolation. Fear clawed at my chest, and I stumbled backward, my breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. It was as though I had stepped into a nightmare, a distorted and twisted version of the familiar chapel I had known. St. Michael's had become a haunting and surreal realm, and I was trapped within its nightmarish grip, with no escape in sight. My heart pounded in my chest as I remembered Father Matthias's words about what to do if things changed after confession. Rule number 4: “If you ever enter the booth and then come out, and things seem... different, close your eyes and enter the booth again. Say nothing until you hear my voice,” Father Matt had said. Heeding his words with a sense of urgency, I turned my gaze back to the confessional booth, my intention to close my eyes and seek refuge there. But before I could make a move, a chilling noise erupted from behind me—a discordant, otherworldly chattering, like that of a demonic grasshopper. It sent a jolt of terror down my spine, freezing me in my tracks. The sound was as repulsive and jagged as nails on a chalkboard, each demonic chitter causing me to flinch instinctively. Slowly, I turned toward the source of the ominous sound, my breath caught in my throat. There, in the darkest corner of the chapel, I saw them—the same faint, glowing orbs I had glimpsed through the window on that fateful day. The eyes in the darkness. They hovered in the air, high above, like malevolent stars in the night. It was only now that my brain made the connection between the shadow in the window and the eyes in the dark that my mother and I had seen before they took her away. Was it the same set of eyes? At that moment, I was convinced they were the same eyes that drove me and my mother apart. The same eyes that had plagued my nightmares ever since I entered this place. The same eyes that had conditioned me to avoid looking into the dark spots of rooms in fear that the eyes would arise out of the shadows to stare back at me. And then, from the shadows, they came—ten long, jagged fingers, impossibly black against the abyss, emerging with slow, deliberate movements. These unnatural appendages were attached to arms that seemed to stretch on forever, reaching out for me with an unnatural and sinister intent. With each slight movement of the creature’s fingers, I could hear audible cracks and chirps, as if the chattering sound I could hear was this thing's bones and joints cracking and popping as it completes each grotesque movement. Terror gripped me, paralyzing my every muscle. My mind raced for a way to escape this nightmare, but it was as if the very air had thickened, holding me captive. The chattering grew louder, more maddening, as the monstrous appendages inched closer. The spider-like fingers twitched and clawed at the empty space between us as a sense of impending doom filled my body. I knew I had to move, to do something, but my body refused to obey. The chapel had transformed into a grotesque theater of horror, and I was trapped in the spotlight, awaiting an unspeakable fate at the hands of this otherworldly presence. My survival instincts kicked in just as those bony hands closed in on me. With a surge of adrenaline, I forced my body to move, breaking into a desperate run. Panic fueled my every move as I began racing away from the looming nightmare. But as I fled, my foot caught on the jagged crack in the floor. I tumbled forward, landing on my hands and knees, pain shooting through me as I struggled to regain my footing. That was all the time the monstrosity needed. Its bony hand clamped onto my ankle, while the other seized my forearm, and it began to drag me mercilessly toward the dark, foreboding corner of the chapel. I screamed and kicked with all my might, desperately trying to free myself from the creature's sinister grip. My heart pounded in my chest as I fought for my life, each moment of resistance filled with terror and agony. With one final, desperate effort, I managed to pry myself free, leaving me gasping for breath and drenched in cold sweat. With newfound determination, I sprinted toward the confessional booth. Just as I reached the door, I noticed a movement in the corner of my vision. My gaze darted toward St. Agnes, and what I saw shook me to my core. The saint was no longer in her place beside the crumpled statues. Instead, she had moved past the altar, her stone form seemingly frozen in mid-stride, as if she were walking toward me. And what was more unsettling was that she stopped moving the instant I looked at her. Fear gnawed at my insides as I flung open the door to the confessional booth and threw myself inside. I turned to secure the door, my breath ragged and my heart pounding. But before I closed it, I couldn't resist stealing one last glance at the dark corner. The eyes were still there, those lifeless spots of light that had haunted my nightmares. The hands had moved closer, now just feet away from the confessional. Their impossibly long arms had stretched all the way from the inky darkness, and the realization of how close I had come to a gruesome fate sent a shudder through me. I slammed the door to the booth shut, hoping it would be enough to keep those demonic hands out. My heart raced as I huddled inside the confessional booth, my mind swirling with fear. I couldn't shake the dreadful feeling that the shadow in the corner or the statue of St. Agnes might still come for me. I was trapped within St. Michael's, a sanctuary that had transformed into a realm of unspeakable horrors. Every creak and shuffle of the chapel seemed like an impending doom. Then, a shadow began to form in front of the confessional door, and I heard the unmistakable crackling and popping of joints moving. My pulse quickened, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. The creature was drawing closer, its presence undeniable. In a desperate bid to protect myself, I recalled Father Matthias's words—close your eyes and enter the booth again, say nothing until you hear my voice. With trembling hands, I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the horror that lurked just beyond the door. Slowly, as if in response to my obedience, the unsettling sounds of the creature began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence. Time passed in a torturous crawl until finally, I heard Father Matthias's soothing voice. "Is there anything else, Andy? You've been quiet for some time now." I swallowed my fear with an audible gulp as I asked the only question that mattered, “Father..” my voice trembling, "Is it safe to go outside?" It seems Father Matthias understood the weight of my unspoken terror, since he assured me, "Everything is okay now, my child. You have my permission to skip your final class of the day and retreat to your room if it would make you feel better. You’re safe now." His words were a lifeline, a promise of safety and sanctuary. With a shaky breath, I felt a small measure of relief, even if I couldn’t be sure that his promise of safety was guaranteed. I would take refuge in my room, a small haven away from the horrors that lurked within St. Michael's, and I hoped that somehow, I could find answers to the mysteries that now consumed my every thought. I had retreated to my room after the harrowing encounter in the chapel, seeking refuge in the familiar confines of my small haven. I lay on my bed, my mind replaying the sequence of events over and over, as if trying to make sense of the nightmarish reality I had faced. It wasn't long before Michael, my newfound friend in this strange and foreboding place, walked into the room. He greeted me with a friendly smile but quickly noticed the deep unease that lingered in my eyes. "Hey, Andy," Michael said, his voice filled with concern. "You seem shaken up. What happened?" I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to put my terrifying encounter into words. But I knew I couldn't keep it to myself. Slowly, I recounted the events that had unfolded in the chapel, from the strange transformation of the surroundings to the nightmarish creature that had reached for me with its impossibly long arms and glowing eyes. Michael listened intently, his expression growing more serious with each detail I shared. When I finished, he let out a long sigh and spoke with a mixture of shock and relief. "Andy, you're lucky to be alive," he said, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "I've been here for a couple years now, and I've never seen anything like that. But I'm even more surprised to hear about that shadowy monster thing you described, the one with the eyes and the long arms. I've never heard of it revealing itself like that or reaching for someone like it did to you.." My heart sank at Michael's words. If he, a resident of St. Michael's for so long, had never had a run in with that creature the way I had, and it raised unsettling questions about why it had singled me out. What did it want from me, and what secrets did this place hold that had brought such a perplexing presence into my life? As I pondered these questions, Michael and I exchanged a knowing glance, both aware that we had stumbled upon something far darker and more mysterious than we could have ever imagined within the walls of St. Michael's. I could only cower in fear of what may come to pass. The night seemed endless as I tossed and turned in my bed, haunted by the nightmarish sights of the last few days. The memories played out like a relentless nightmare in my mind, each unsettling encounter etching itself deeper into my consciousness. But eventually, exhaustion overcame my restless thoughts, and I began to drift into a restless slumber. I slipped into dreams, my mind turned to my mother and her own encounter with the mysterious "eyes in the darkness." Her memory brought me a strange sense of comfort, a reminder that I was not alone in facing the enigma that shrouded St. Michael's. As the night wore on, and the church was cloaked in an eerie silence, I awoke in my bed, haunted by the events of the day and the secrets that seemed to pulse within the very walls of St. Michael's. The moonlight filtered through the small window, casting elongated shadows that danced on the walls of our shared room. Beside me, Michael lay sound asleep, his rhythmic breathing the only sign of life in the otherwise still room. But just as I was starting to drift back into a fitful slumber, I heard it—the unmistakable sound of someone fumbling with the doorknob of our locked bedroom door. My heart leaped into my throat as I shot up in bed, my eyes wide with fear. The doorknob rattled violently, and the door shook under the pressure of someone—or something—trying to force their way inside. Panic surged through me as I clutched my blanket tightly, seeking refuge behind its thin shield. Michael awoke in the midst of the commotion, his eyes filled with fear but his voice steady, "It's going to be okay, Andy," he whispered, his tone comforting. "We just need to pray."Nodding vigorously, I joined Michael in reciting the prayers we had learned, our voices trembling but growing stronger with each word. The door continued to shake, as if an unseen force sought to break through. We recited the Lord's Prayer, the Hail Mary, and other supplications, our voices growing louder as we sought protection and solace in our faith. As we continued to pray, the rattling of the door grew more violent, and the air in the room seemed charged with an otherworldly presence. It was as if the very essence of the church itself had come to life, and its malevolent gaze was fixed upon us. But we did not waver. We held fast to our prayers, seeking refuge in the divine. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the violent shaking of the door ceased, leaving behind an eerie silence that hung heavily in the room. We remained huddled together, our hearts pounding in our chests, listening intently for any signs of danger. But all we heard were the distant echoes of heavy footsteps slowly retreating down the hallway, fading into the night. With the worst of the ordeal seemingly over, exhaustion washed over us, and the room felt less oppressive. Michael and I found solace in each other's presence, and eventually, as our fatigue overcame our fear, we drifted into a fitful sleep, our prayers still echoing softly in the corners of our dreams. Little did we know that the mysteries of [St. Michael's](https://www.malevolentsin.com) Church were far from unraveling, and the events of that night were only the beginning of a deeper and more sinister darkness that lay in wait...

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16s72ge/i_was_an_altar_boy_when_i_was_younger_we_had_a/

nosleep

MalevolentSin666

My sister went missing in a small lakeside town. I shouldn’t have gone to look for her.

The last time anyone saw my sister was nearly a month ago. This is completely out of character for her because out of the two of us, I am the fuck up and she is the responsible one. However one day her idiot friends decided to drag her along to go camping on the other side of the state. Why they chose to go there as their destination, I haven't a clue. While the town offered an escape from the world, it didn't have much else going for it. If you want to know what the town was like, the first thing I saw when I arrived was a child dragging a tin can with a leash as if it were a dog. The rest of the town was very much the same. Somewhere in the void between weird, surreal and worrying. When my sister didn't call after a few days, everyone grew worried and did all we could think of to find her. We drove all the way over there to hang up flyers and knock on doors, but no one had seen her or her friends. The police were no help. Every time they saw my car, they would pull me over to tell me that there was no reason for me to worry, or that she was most likely on a romantic getaway with her boyfriend and that I should just return home. It took all the patience I had to play nice when they said this. If they knew her, they would know that disappearing like that was impossible. Something must have happened and I was determined to get to the bottom of it. The last time I went out to that cursed and isolated town, I packed enough for an extended stay and checked into the hotel. I only stayed there once due to the poor condition of the room. I thought I was going to have to stay in my car and this was fine, I was willing to do it if that meant finding my sister. It was nearly two in the afternoon when I felt just how hungry I was and decided to go into the local diner. There, I overheard someone talking about a BnB that had just opened up and even though it wasn't advertised online, it was ready to be rented out. Figuring I might as well check it out, I asked about it and set off to find the owner so I could rent a room for my stay. On the way out of the diner I couldn't help but to notice that the flier I had set up in the window on my last visit a few days before was taken down. The owners, a married couple in their early sixties, were happy to have someone stay at their beach house and after everything was in order they gave me the key code so I could get the key and enter the house. The house had to have been a fifteen minute walk to the closest neighbor, but finding it wasn't hard. The building screamed old money and reminded me of a plantation. The surrounding yard was large, manicured to perfection and surrounded by a white fence. In the front yard there was a large tree with a tire swing. Inside wasn't as nice as the outside. The lightbulbs looked ancient and gave off a sickly yellow glow to everything the light touched. As far as the electronics in the rest of the house went there was no television, or for that matter, an outlet to charge my phone. I called the Keele’s to ask them about this and they told me that the house was considered an historical landmark, so no renovations could be done. After settling in, I figured to take some time exploring the place during the day since I wasn't planning on being there unless I was sleeping. There was a library, a dumbwaiter and everything else one might expect in a place that grand. The view out the bedroom window revealed a lake and a dock through the branches of a bunch of weeping willows. There wasn't a ripple in sight. If I was there for any other reason than finding my sister, I would have taken that opportunity to swim. As I walked down the hallways, after unpacking my things, I thought I heard crying. I tried searching for the source of it, but whenever I was certain that it would be around the next corner, there was nothing. At the time I just figured the noise was because the house was so old. Or that the noise was all in my head because of the stress of my sister missing, or because I didn't sleep well the night before. Ignoring what I assumed I heard, I traveled back into town to ask people if they saw my sister or her friends as well as to hang up fliers. I must have walked a few miles by nightfall and figured that I deserved a nightcap so I went into the liquor store and bought myself a bottle of whiskey to drink when I reached the BnB. I am not much of a drinker and have a low tolerance, a fact that I am proud of, but I wasn't too drunk to have imagined the ursine howl I heard after brushing my teeth before bed. That howl... it stuck in my head for a while as I tried to figure out what could make a sound like that. Finally, with the whiskey's help, sleep overcame me. I woke up feeling refreshed, but that feeling did not last long. As I got out of bed, I froze. My suitcase had been moved. Right before I went to sleep, I put the case in front of the closet door. I always did this when I slept in an unfamiliar place... it was a force of habit. This morning, the case was NEXT to the door, not in front of it! Someone had been in my room as I slept! I quickly threw the closet open, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that I could see. I did a cursory search of the room, and again, nothing seemed to be missing. I had almost convinced myself that I must have been mistaken, that I had drunkenly forgot to put the case in front of the door, even though I distinctly remembered doing it, when I saw the folded paper sticking out of the pile of missing person flyers I had on the dresser. My hand was shaking as I grabbed the note, unfolded it and read the single word written on it. "LAKE" That's it. Just the word "lake". I fell onto the bed. My mind was racing with possibilities here. Did my sister drown in the lake? Did people cover it up? If so, WHY? None of it made any sense! I grabbed a stack of fliers, snatched up the note and headed to town. I needed answers! My first stop was the Police. When They saw me come in, they all seemed to tense up. I explained about the break in, and they did not believe me. Until I handed them the note. The officer seemed shocked... he looked like someone just punched him in the gut. He waved the sergeant over and handed him the note. The Sergeant also seemed stunned. They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, then both turned and looked at me. "I am sure this was a prank." the Sergeant said. "If I were you, i would leave town, head home and i am sure your sister will turn up.” Furious, I yelled "Yeah? And what about the note?" Looking dead in my eyes, the Sergeant crumpled the paper in his hand and said "What note?" I was stunned. What the hell was going on here? I backed slowly away, and left the police station. I glanced back, and saw the officer and Sergeant had followed me outside, where they were staring at me as I walked down the street. Right as I turned the corner, I saw the Sergeant, while still staring at me, pull out his cell phone and make a call. His eyes never wavered from me, not even for a second. I was unnerved. I was starting to get a little scared. there was something going on here, and my sister seemed to have been caught up in it. As I thought about my sister, the feelings turned from fright to anger. She was still missing, and no podunk Barney Fife police force was going to stop me from finding out where she is! I headed for the Diner, the last place my sister's credit card was used. Once again, I noticed the flyer I had taped up earlier was missing. I went right back to where I had put it the first time, and with the cook and waitress watching me, I taped Two flyers up, right next to each other. The cook shot the waitress a nervous glance, and went back to his griddle. I sat at an empty booth and waited. The Waitress did everything she could to avoid coming over, but I just sat there smiling at her, watching everything she was doing. She kept darting glances at the cook, where he would shake his head almost imperceptibly. Finally, she had no other choice but to come and take my order. "What would you like?" she asked. She seemed so nervous she was almost shaking. "I would like two things…" I replied, smiling. "A coffee.... and..." She stood there, her pencil above the notepad waiting for the rest of my order. "And information on why everyone in this town is pretending not to have seen my sister, you included," The waitress's eyes grew wide.. she looked over at the cook who was shaking his head no, not even trying to be subtle about it anymore. "please..." she almost whimpered... "You need to just..." and right then, the Officer from the Police Station walked in, pointed at me, and motioned for me to go outside. "What a surprise…" I mumbled to the waitress as i stood up. I was a little taken aback when i saw tears in her eyes. I was not sure if they were tears of fright, compassion or relief, but she was obviously shaken to her core. I followed the Officer outside, where he turned to me and said "You need to leave. Now. Not tomorrow, not later. Now." "No,” I snapped back. The officer got upset. "What do you mean no? I will arrest you for hassling these good people!" "Then arrest me! Do it!" I yelled back. "It will be the first time I saw any cop in this town do anything he was supposed to do!" The cop stared at me. He seemed to deflate a little bit. "listen... " he said quietly. "You need to go. That's all I am going to say. I ain't threatening you... I'm trying to protect you…" and having said that, he turned on his heel and left. To say that I was confused is an understatement. I needed to regroup, I needed to try and get my head around this. I headed back to the BNB and my room, taking my food to go. And that was when I started to get some answers.... I sat down to eat the food I had taken from the diner, when I noticed there was something written up in the napkin. “Look on the bottom.” It said. I bumped the bottom of the bag as I did this, and felt the corner of a manila envelope sticking out from beneath. I surreptitiously pulled it out. “Don't open in public” was written on the top. The handwriting seemed to match that on the napkin. I opened the envelope on the bed and inside were just three short articles from the local newspaper. **Body Found, Dam To be Drained – Wednesday, October 12** >The Keele Dam, named after it's founder and local conservationist Jared Keele, will be drained to allow officials to search through the lake. On October 10th, Monday morning, a tourist was hiking when he came across the body of Deana Smith, who had previously been declared dead last August after she had been missing for a decade. >The body's identity was confirmed through forensic testing, and evidence of foul play was found during autopsy. Local authorities have reopened the case of Deana Smith as a murder investigation, there are currently no leads. They intend to drain the lake starting at 12:00 pm on October 15 and ending at 7:00 pm on October 16. >Authorities urge you to go be seen by your doctor if you have drank directly from the lake or swam in it with open wounds. We were unable to reach Jared Keele for comment, but sources say that he is devastated with the news and hopes for a speedy investigation. **Old Island to Remain Uncovered, New BnB to Open – Wednesday, September 14** >While local officials drained the Keele lake in search of bodies, an old nearly forgotten island was uncovered. An employee at our town library immediately started a petition to keep the island exposed for the pleasant view. During the hearing on September 8, many locals were able to express their concerns. A volunteer group was then formed to clear off the island and maintain it in order to appease citizens that believed the island a source of danger. >Son of the recently deceased Jared Keele spoke of how his father wanted the island to remain covered, but agreed with the petitioner that the island improves the view. He plans to turn his father's place into a Bed and Breakfast by the spring, and feels the two could attract tourists. “His house had an excellent view of the lake, and now it will have an excellent view of the island,” he was quoted as saying. **Night Lights on Keele Island – Wednesday, August 16** >On August 12, there were multiple reports called into local authorities of suspicious flames moving about on the island at night. An officer was dispatched to the area and reported to have found no suspicious activity. After a brief investigation, it is believed to simply be one of those phenomenons that occur from time to time. Local businesses are excited to hear this, as the lights will help bring in tourists that enjoy viewing them. Mr. Keele has updated his listing on Airbnb to include a footnote about the phenomenon. I looked up from the last article, it felt as though my veins were full of ice as I stared through the window at the island. August 12 was the last I had heard from my sister. First the note, then the envelope of articles. the way the town has been acting.. my answers laid on that island. I just knew it. Did these lights have something to do with her disappearance? I had one more night left, I would wait till after dark then find a way to the island. I was a pretty decent swimmer, but the weather had turned a bit chilly recently. The article said something about a volunteer maintenance crew for the island, they must have a means of getting there. Perhaps a boat somewhere along the lake shore I could borrow for the night without anybody being the wiser. It was about this time that somebody began pounding on my door. I crept to the door and peaked out, but didn't recognize them. They weren't the owners, and since they didn't have on a police uniform I could ignore them. “You've overstayed your welcome! Getch'er ass out here, or we'll help you find a reason to leave!” The larger of the two yelled. How about no? I thought as I crept around and left out the back door. I had grabbed my belongings on the way out in case the rednecks decided to bust in and now I kept my eyes peeled for a good place to stash them. Unfortunately there was no time. I heard the locals right behind me, and dropped my stuff in some bushes to distract them as I ran toward the lakeshore. Luck didn’t seem on my side at first as I scanned the sands amid twilight, but then I saw the faint silhouette of a canoe. I immediately jumped in and paddled as I heard my pursuers shouting from the tall grass. Before long their cries were muffled out by my paddle strokes and I was alone on the lake. The moon hung above like a glistening Pearl, it’s gleam causing the tiny island to glow. Were these the lights I’d read about? As I got closer I realized it was a variety of gemstones that poked out near the rocks, there were so many I was astounded that the townsfolk weren’t using these to make the town rich. I knew as soon as I stepped foot on the island that something was off. The air felt cold and rigid, and no wind blew. There wasn’t even green grass. It was just a dark void in the night, with rocks jutting aimlessly toward the center. Then I heard that howl, the same one that has plagued me since I arrived. It was right up ahead. It was loud and visceral, it made me think about leaving immediately. But I had to see if I could find my sister. I’ve made it this far. I moved toward the noise, the stones blocking my view and making me feel like I was in a maze. It seemed to be coming from all directions. This howl was both terrifying and disturbing because it sounded like a creature in pain. Desperate for death to swallow it up. Finally I reached a clearing and saw a large monolithic boulder with chains tied around it. The noises were coming from the other side. As I drew closer, I realized the stone was made of pure silver, the largest I’d ever seen. And on the other side, I found the source of the growl, a beast straight from my night terrors. It was large and covered in dark fur, with fangs and claws the size of my head. I thought at first it was a werewolf but a closer look revealed gills and a fish hook tail. It was the strangest beastie I’d ever seen, and yet as I kept staring I realized that it was in pain and not a threat at all. Someone had captured it and left it here to die, I realized. Then as the beast thrashed about I saw something familiar dangle around its neck. My sister’s locket, there was no mistaking it. My mouth felt dry as I looked at the monster. Was this… thing, what was left of my sister? I tried to reach for her but the creature only reacted in violence. She was angry, frustrated and confused by what was happening. Then behind me I heard voices and immediately I hid. To my surprise I saw the bnb owners walking along arm in arm, cheerfully conversing as if there wasn’t a nine foot monster chained in front of them. The husband was carrying a large wooden stake. “Well, well. The offering is a good one this time…. Our boy Jared done good,” he mumbled as he used his weapon to poke at the monster playfully. “Gonna eat good tonight,” she agreed. That name they mentioned sounded familiar but nothing was piecing together until I saw with my own eyes what they did. As the moon reached its apex in the sky, the husband staked the wolf creature straight in the heart and I heard the mixture of my sister’s screams with the howl of the monster. It took all my strength to not stop them. The wife took out two goblets from her purse and they used them to pour blood from the wound into and then both drank greedily. The older couple jerked and started to convulse, their bodies suddenly swollen and reverting to an earlier age. Before I knew what was happening, they looked even more youthful than I. And it was then I recognized their faces. The same ones I had seen in the article when referring to the Keele’s. But they were supposed to be long dead… This monster, this ritual, was keeping them alive. They laughed to themselves as they finished their bloody work and left my sister to bleed out. My own blood boiled as I heard them talking about their next victim near the shore. Me. “We need to find that boy who came to the cabin. You know these things run in packs. If we can turn him into his monster form and chain him up too we will have another century to ourselves,” the wife chuckled. “Why should we do the work? The damn townsfolk have tried to betray us and send him away. I say we make those yokels do our dirty work. Or it will be their skin we grind up! Ha!” They sailed away as I shook away my desperation and frustration and turned toward my sister. They used you like cattle, and they’ll do the same to me, I realized fearfully. I tried to recall the old legends of how someone could turn into a werewolf, a dream of revenge springing into my mind. Using my sister’s large claws, I cut myself straight across the face. Deep enough for the venom in her to deep into my blood. As soon as I felt it, my body convulsed and I shook in pain. Except I knew I wasn’t going to be gaining any youth from this. My goal would be to find the Keele’s and destroy them, make them suffer for what they’d done. I took the canoe back to the bnb and locked myself in as the transformation begins. Unfortunately I think this means I will lose all sense of my sanity, of my humanity. I am fearful of when this moment comes, but also I know I will have to embrace it. I must pray the locals can hunt me down and end this cruel life, With both me and the Keele family dead, maybe this lake could finally be a proper tourist trap. It’s a hopeful thought to hold on to as I slip away from sanity and join the animal kingdom. I leave all this in the journals here, to be found by their next visitor I suppose. If you’re reading this, it likely means the Keele’s are still alive and I have failed. Beware the lake. Beware the island and most of all beware of the howls. For I can not control what I shall do next.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16rrvw8/my_sister_went_missing_in_a_small_lakeside_town_i/

nosleep

ArmchairDetectives

Pinman

We’ve all been to yard sales before, I used to love scoping out yard sales and trying to see what odd trinkets I could manage to find, and occasionally fix up old tech to either flip or use myself. I don’t think I can stomach doing that anymore though. Last month I spied an old Xbox 360 on one of the tables, and I do mean old. It was one of the white models. Just looking at it gave me a rush of nostalgia so I asked the guy at the table how much it was. He was about my age, I almost would have considered him cute if not for the fact that he pulled a pinch out of a can of dip and stuck it in his mouth before answering my question. “Thirty bucks, haven’t touched it in years so it won’t be missed.” I fished a few tens out of my wallet and asked, “Do you have any games for it?” He made an expression like he just remembered something and reached under the table, after a second it retracted with what looked like a large black computer part. “You’re gonna love this, it's a custom made external hard drive, this fucker can hold up to two terrabytes of data on it. Its got a bunch of games on there already but there should also be some still installed on the console itself, just don’t delete any of the games on there cause you’ll never get them back without my password. I’d give that to you as well with the hard drive but honestly I forgot it years ago.” “Is the hard drive gonna cost me extra?” He gave it a long hard look, checked me out for a second debating with himself whether he thought he could get away with asking me out or not, and eventually said. “Honestly I have no use for it, it was specifically made for the 360 so I wouldn’t really gain any benefit from keeping it. Let’s say ten, maybe twenty bucks cause it's good but really old.” I shrugged, pulled out another two tens and handed it over. I said, “Seems fair.” and started putting the console and hard drive in my tote bag, along with the two controllers that came with it. When I got home I was honestly pretty excited to see the games on it, I always loved finding old forgotten gems. As the console booted up I heard the startup noise and got sent straight back to my childhood. After I reached the homescreen I only found it fitting to sign into my old account. It’d been years but thankfully I still remembered my password from when I was 9. What I saw in front of me could only be described as… an atrocity. The bright pink and black avatar accompanied with the name “Fairygirl17” reminded me that I was a very stereotypical scene kid from a very young age, and to be completely honest some part of me never grew out of that. After spending way too long changing my avatar and deciding on a new profile name I eventually made it back to the homescreen. I remembered to plug in the hard drive and set it up before opening up the game library. There was a treasure trove of games just waiting to be found. There were some of the greats like Halo, Call of Duty, even some of the classic Lego games, as well as some of the silly Xbox avatar games like Doritos Crash Course, Motocross Madness, and the Kelflings games. I scrolled for who knows how long reliving every flash of nostalgia, feeling the warm chills crawl up my back as I saw games like Bioshock, Charlie Murder, Dead Space, Fable. Each game I saw I remembered when I played it with my older brother and sister, I recognized so much until eventually I started looking through the weirder stuff. Games that were obviously either made by one person from another country, broken english names and such. I looked even deeper and just found weird games that were probably just made as projects or quick cash grabs, they must have been at least a little fun because they were still installed. After probably hours of me inspecting each individual title out of curiosity I landed on one that really caught my interest. Pinman. The cover was just of a regular old pinman like you’d see on a street sign or a crosswalk. I don’t know why it was so interesting to me, it just seemed so out of place. So obviously, I pressed A. I started the game and in front of me was a black silhouette man, as advertised he was a generic pinman. There was no tutorial, it didn’t tell me to do anything so I just started walking. The camera was in the third person, the world was pure white, yet the shadows were abnormally high quality. There were structures, but they appeared to be the same smooth white texture as the ground I walked on, there was a wide ramp to go up, and so I followed it. As time went on the structures felt slightly more complex. Long bridges, an upward spiral, a building that could be somewhat compared to a parking garage, and yet through all I saw it was just sparse enough to make the world still feel so empty. I looked up but the skybox was more of the same. Eventually I started seeing other characters. None of them talked but it made the empty world feel that much more alive. I wandered farther but the only sound I heard was the steps of my character trudging on. I thought I could hear wind but if I could it was extremely quiet. I kept walking on, the world felt somewhat peaceful, if not a little ominous. I didn’t know why I was enjoying it but I was captivated, and vaguely creeped out. At one point I came across a particularly tall structure. For a moment I marveled at how well it looked for only being the same smooth white as everything else. This 3D world was very well made for how it was structured. I began to climb slowly. Minutes passed and yet still my attention was fully on the game, even more so when I inevitably reached the top. In the middle of my path was a knife. Just an ordinary kitchen knife. Usually seeing something like that might startle someone, due to how the rest of the gameplay has been. However, I felt drawn to it. I walked over and pressed A. Now it was in my hand. I kept walking. I walked further and further as these structures connected to each other making one large elaborate amalgamation of concrete. As it will happen with all of us, I gave in to my intrusive thoughts. I walked over to another character, and I pressed A. The screen flashed a bright red, you could hear the stab and he was on the ground. I had killed him, and I felt awful about it. I felt horrified as I saw the puddle of blood under him, the blade of the knife had been stained red and no button I pushed would make me drop it. So in order to hide my guilt, I kept walking. It felt as if the game knew what I had done, and it knew how I felt. Suddenly this world was more populated. Instead of a few there were slowly becoming more and more pinmen as I walked farther. They didn’t have faces but I could tell they were staring at me. They didn’t show any expression or emotion but I could feel that they hated me. Any sound or ambience that I thought I could hear before was gone. All that was left were the footsteps. I kept walking but I could still feel their nonexistent gazes. How can you look at someone so hatefully when you don't even have a face? Eventually the pressure became so intense that I turned off the Xbox . I couldn’t handle any more of it, I went to the kitchen to get myself some water but my hands were shaking. Something about that felt so real. My heart was pounding. For a solid minute I couldn’t convince myself that I hadn’t actually killed someone. After what could barely be called a meal I decided that I needed some sleep. I couldn’t. I tossed and turned for hours feeling an immeasurable amount of stress and paranoia. I felt like I was going to be caught for what I had done. This game had placed a spell on me and it was strong. I felt scared, as if the crimes I had committed were so unforgivable that I could never show my face in public. At around four in the morning I’d had enough. I marched back into the living room and turned the console on. I went to the game settings, and uninstalled it. As soon as it was finished I could feel that hold break, I felt calm. I was no longer shaking, my heartrate had calmed. I was fine. I already knew that whatever that game had done to me will forever be stained in my mind, but going to sleep was more important at the moment. I dreamed about the game, this time it was me walking around instead of the pinman. I wandered much like how I did when I actually played. I once again felt very peaceful. I wandered for hours, eventually I came back to the knife. I left it behind. I walked further until I encountered a character, I recognized him. Apparently he recognized me too. “Why did you do it?” He asked me calmly. “I don’t know, I felt like I was supposed to.” “You took a life because you were given a weapon. You were given no instructions, you just did.” “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did it.” “I know you are, I’m sorry too.” “Why?” I knew why, I should have seen it coming from a mile away but dreams have a funny way of fogging your mind. Faster than I could comprehend I saw the knife, I heard the sound and the world in front of me flashed a bright red. I coughed blood and I fell over. I knew I deserved this but all I could think about was the blood pouring out of me. I opened my eyes and lurched forward. I thought I felt phlegm and coughed but my sheets were spattered with red when I did so. I panicked as I put my hand in front of my mouth only to see dark red blood pooling onto it. I rushed to the bathroom and lifted my shirt to look for stab wounds in the mirror, I didn’t see anything until I looked at my own face. I had a nosebleed. I was fine. Some of the blood must have gone into my mouth while I was asleep and affected my dream. Still, I felt a little shaken. I cleaned myself up and threw my sheets into the wash while the blood was still fresh, hopefully it’d wash out. I made myself a cup of coffee and decided that I should probably do something to calm myself down. In that one moment I don’t think I’d ever felt that much shock and fear in my life. I went back to the Xbox to load up the game only to remember that I’d uninstalled it. I still think about it sometimes.I want to play it again, I want to do the right thing this time, but there’s no way I can get it back. I couldn’t find it again. I can’t find it on the internet either. There’s no real evidence that this game ever existed, but I want to play again. If you remember it or even find this game please, let me know.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16s8a05/pinman/

nosleep

LightinTheDungeon

I’m an ER receptionist. Today I met a patient who scared me. [Part 2]

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16onxto/im_an_er_receptionist_today_i_met_a_patient_who/)[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16t0rk7/im_an_er_receptionist_today_i_met_a_patient_who/) [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/174wq7x/im_an_er_receptionist_today_i_met_a_patient_who/?rdt=57809) [Part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17caiao/im_an_er_receptionist_today_i_met_a_patient_who/) I’m typing through cold sweat. On my phone. In Sam’s exam room. Lying on a leather table. I’m hyperventilating with a cold compress on my head. I’m so hot. And oh my god, my head. It's killing me. Never had a fucking headache like this before. I’m sweating like a pig, my hands are shaking lioke crazy. so excuse me if I type in unintelligible ways. I must hurry. Sam might come back any time. Alrught. So I went back to my desk. I had a hard time concentrating after the incident. The rest of the day went normal, more or less. But I couldn’t focus. I kept thinking “Travis” and “I made them all disappear” like what did the crazy man mean by that? Who else did he make disappear? And how did he know about Travis? Was he... perhaps... involved in Travis’ disappearance? Travis disappeared, jumped out of window at work 5 years ago, was never seen again. All we know is his case went cold after a year, and the police wrote him off as dead. And they refused to keep looking for him because “Travis Windwell is a grown adult man, he can go wherever he pleases; every adult that is of age has the right to ‘disappear’ as you call it”. Not gonna lie, I’m bitter as hell that they refused to look for him.But I sort of just got used to it. I miss my brother every day. But part of me has kind of accepted that he’s gone and will never return – and all I have left of him is the memories. His straight black hair (like mine), his bright grey eyes and the dimples when he smiled. How could a 29-year-old man just disappear like that? It was NEVER like Travis to just disappear without saying something. He would always call my mom to let her know his whereabouts, even for being a little bit late from work.I still try to go over the day he went missing. It was the 20th September 2018. He was at work, in his office. Like always. I remember.... he called me that day. He said he had an ear infection and needed antibiotics. Wait. Antibiotics. Oh yeah. That was the last time I ever heard his voice – or any sign of life from my brother.Could it be that the antibiotics are WHY he disappeared? I mean. I told you about the crazy man in the ER yesterday. I told you he took some striong antibiriotics and yes. Maybe it WAS a psychosis after all? Or is there more at play?It could be that the meds DID cause his craziness. And maybe... just maybe... no. No way. What was the name of the meds? The meds the weird man took. The meds Travis took. No. NO. wasn’t that the same ...? no. the fuck. It cannot be. They didn’t BOTH take the same pills and BOTH got a psychosis from it?Fine. Makes sense. Biut then again how did the man know about Travis? How are they in connection with each other? Strangely, nothing happened for the last 3 days. The crazy man didn’t show up again. It all went normal again until about an hour ago. The crazy man came and entered the ER door again today. This time he looked very angry. And there was no sign of a med reaction of any kind.He stared at me. Just stood and staredd. He stared. For a whole minute . or loinger. I don’t know. But I could tell sth was up this time and it was NOT the medicine. “Melissa.” I squinted my eyebrows in confusion buit didn’t say anything. He continued. “Melissa... “ I raised my brows now. What the hell did he want from me? I noticed one more thing. His skin was not yellow anymore. It was yellow yesterday but now it was not. He aggressively walked towards my desk. Fast. He walked weird. In a way that he was dead, or like a nu,b walking zombie. He walked as if he were dead inside, his body just moved while he wiggled a little. Like you would expect a slightly drunk person or a zombie to look when they walk fast. He walked extremely fast and then suddenly stopped abruptly in front of my desk. One redditor advised me to use salt (and lots of it). since sprinkling the salt in front of my desk in a cirlcce wasn’t an option (as the cleaner would get mad at me), I put several open containers at the front of my desk in a row. As a protection wall. It seemed to work. (Thank you, stranger, for the advice.) He then stood there, still staring in the same manner, his face had not budged. He stood and wiggled to the side a little, like he was drunk.He opened his mouth to say sth but then stopped and closed it again. He stayed like that for a few secs. Then he slowly opened his mouth again, and said (in a deep, evil, aggressive voice): “I know where Travis is. I knew all along. For the last 5 years I have known. Heh heh heh heh. I’ve got him. I got your brothaaaaaaaa. Heh”Knowing that the salt stopped him from coming closer to me, I figured I might as well just ask him. “What do you want? Who are you?” He continued staring at me blankly and wiggling like a drunk. “I want revenge.” “Why? For what?” “You and your colleague are at fault. YOU are at fault. My dad died 5 years ago. He never woke up. it was YOUR mistake.” “no.” My face went white. I couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. That incident. this old man came in after a car accident and sadly couldn’t be saved. ... Jason and Sam had to put him in an artificial coma and then turn the machines off. As he couldn’t be saved. I was the receptionist – of course I had to make him wait a couple secs because we weren’t sure what was wrong and he had nobody with him exceot... no. wait. NO. yea. The middle aged man who accompanied the old guy. It was.. no. Yes. a yellow blond man in a suit. The suit was burgundy colored. So the evil weird man was the son! I thought I knew what the deal was now. He wanted to take revenge on US for letting his dad die. -and he blames Us for it. I noticed another thing. The man’s breath stank more of sulfur than it did yesterday. Like OOF did it stink. I nearly vomited into my mouth. And my eyes watered. It really stung. The stench stung in my eyes, my nose and throat. And my stomach too I think.Another thing I noticed: Speaking of Jason.. where is he?! He nverr missed a day of work, he even comes into work when he had a deadly flu or the plague. He is a typical healthcare worjker – extremely stubborn when it comes to his own health and never wanting to admit that he’s sick. But today I haven\*’t seen him yet. I’m not sure if that has sth to do with the weird black shit he wiped away two days ago – but that was the last time I saw him. But boy do I feel sick....... I think I need to vomit.Whatever, back to topic. I had a flashback of the incident. I was scared to death. The man continued. “I know what you did. YOU made him wait on purpose although you KNBEW he was an emergency. You clearly didn’t care if my dad died. That’s why you made him wait. F You let anyone in before, except when old people need help. Old people are worthless. Once you hit 50 you’re nothing but a sack of old shit. That’s what it looks like.” He paused a few seco and then continued. "You killed my dad. My one and all. My only trusted person I had left. You took it all away from me. And now it is MY turn. Heh heh." Before I could open my mouth and reply to that, he tried really hard to move towards me. Buit it didn’t work. it looked kinda funyy. Like trying to push his face through a glass window. But the salt seemed to be doun the trick.Suddenly he stopped wiggling, stood very firmly and started grinning. In an evil manner, like teachers used to grin when they caught a kid doing nonsense. Like “ha, I got you”. “I saw your nametag and then traced your ass back. You stopped working here 5 years ago, and then got hired again this summer. I know ALL about you.” His tone of voice now had a tone of sarcasm and mock in it too.“aww. What’s wrong babeh? You’re looking pretty pale. Heyh? Feels bad being caught! Heh heh heh. Now you’re gonna feel how I feel.” He let out a brief, slightly-aroused groan. “Quitting the job right after my father’s death? Heh heh. Aww. pussy boo. Looks like Miss Thick glasses couldn’t habdle the guilt?” He tilted his head and showed a fake-concerned expression, in a mocking way. He then reached into his suit pocket, slowly. "Ehhh. Now I’m gonna show you something that you Will Not be able to handle for sure." He pulled out a phone, poked around, and then turned the screen towards me. I felt kinda silly being a 26 year old woman feeling intimated by a man laughing and staring and stinking at me. But I couldnnn helop it. But then he showed me a video on the phone - and then I had a reason.What I saw made me jump out of my chair and knock over all the salt containers kff tce table.I saw a basement. I saw the camera moving. No windows, it was pitch dark. The only light I saw wS a phone flashlight dim. Then the camera moved as if someone was walking and led to a corner. I saw a dirty extremely gross matteess lying on the ground. And on the mattress I see the silhouette of a man. The camera moves closer to what appears to be a man. The camera points at him. I see that the man is tied up. In shackles. He’s bleeding and chained to the mattress. Struggling to breathe. In the background, I hear evil deep voice giggling (like the man standing before me, I recognized that voice). He said "I will chop them off. Heeeh heh heh. Choppy chop-chop, choppidy-chop. Funny heh?"" Then the man on the mattress screamed in terror. He tried to scream, that is. It sojnded like he screamed with his mouth closed, or he had sth stuffed in his mouth. The voice of the mattress man sojnunded weirdly familiar. Too familiar. A voice I haven’t heard in years. I hear the weird man shushing. Then a hand moved towards the prisoner's mouth and a cloth is pulled out. Then the prisoner screamed VERY loudly and violently. "YOU ARE SICK! No!! NO!! Let me GOOoO!!!! HEEELP! SOMEbody HELP!! MELISSA!!! MOM!!! DAD!! Heeeeeeeeee-" then the shushing is back. "Honey honey.! We don’t you to disappear UNDER THE EARTH now, do we?" The prosoner shook his head aggressively and then stopped screaming. Now the canera was on his fsce. It was dirty and full of filth, mud and his hair was all dirty and mushed. I had a hard time recognizing it as The face looked very squashed, there were dried tears all over it and It was all dirty and full of wounds and filth. But it looked too familiar . The voice. And the fsce. Very distinguished. I was starting to get a strong intuition. I wanted to puke. Tgtje evil ma#n's voice started again "good boy. Yaaaaaaaa. Goooooooood boy. Mhmmmm. Now. You either sty down here for nother 5 years or you do as I say? Hmmmm? Will you sign now?" "Fuck youuuuu", said the (no. Wait. eXTREMELY familiar. And very distinguished. It can only be…. No.) man on the bed weakly and whiningly. Now it was clear. I knew who the man was. It could only be one person . I nearly screamed. But couldn’t. I was too scared to scream. The video ended there.Then the man pulled the phone away, grinned evilly, and put it back in his pocket. He nodded snd giggled and looked at me. No… then the man leaned towards me. And put his finger on my lips, still grinning evilly.I was too shocked to react. I stared back at the man for a few Seconds. Then I got up from my chair, escaping the finger and freeing my lips. I did what I couldn’t avoid. I stood there and stared in disbelief. Then, I said it. It slipped right out of me. No, I screamed it. "TRAVIS!!!! " then screamed again, but with my mouth closed, then again, and again, progressively weaker. The man must have noticed the spilled salt. He jumped äat me and tackled me. He strangled me. Closed my mouth and nose with one hand. Strangled me with the other. and the next thing I know is, everything went blsck. \------------ Next thing I knew I was here. I don’t remember much. I just remember that extremely angry headache. I’ve never had a headache this bad. It hurt so fucking terrible I wanted to chop my head off with äa chainsaäw to stop it. I was hyperventilating wildly and my pulse was äat 200. And boy did I feel hot. I remember hearing some indistinct mumbling. It sounded like Sam's voice. I also heard the voice of my coworkers. Sam must have noticed that I had woken up and then put his hand on my forehead. "What the…?", I struggled to say with a weak voice. My mouth was so dry. "Sam? What…? Woah!!! Woah. Where am I, where am I?" Then I inhaled exasperatedly. Sam pressed my häand to calm me down. "Melissa, it’s all good. Ok? I’m here. All is okay. I-" I interrupted him. "No??? No. No!! Now.. don’t tell me that I fainted!""You did. You spent 6 hours lying unconscious next to your desk. Dan had to call me and we brought you here. Dan carried you here."Sam felt my pulse, with his other hand still on my forehead. "Mmm. Not good. Your heart is way too fast… for jesus sake!" He grabbed a cold compress and put it on my forehead, and fixated it by placing his hand on the conpress for a few seconds. He then hooked me to sn IV and I begged him for something to kill the headache. So he added some painkillers too.I didn’t tell Sam what happened. I couldn’t either. He had to leave the room bc another emergency arised. He left me allne in this room. I don’t understand anything of what happened these last 3 days but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think. I can’t… what the heck. And owww my head. I gotta puke. I’m sorry. I gotta stop here. Sam is back. He wants to check on me and run a blood test. I don't know what to do. I need to find Travis. And prevent this revenge-angel from doing worse things. ​ EDIT: I really do wonder where Jason is. I'm concerned about him too.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ry6np/im_an_er_receptionist_today_i_met_a_patient_who/

nosleep

Temporary_Month_2492

I got a text from my dead girlfriend

I had always considered myself a rational person, scoffing at tales of the supernatural. But one night, I received a text that shattered my skepticism and plunged me into a world of darkness I never thought possible. It had been a year since Emma, my girlfriend, tragically died in a car accident. Her loss haunted my every moment, and I struggled to move on. I was drowning in grief and despair, clinging to our shared memories like a lifeline. One evening, as I sat alone in our dimly lit apartment, my phone buzzed. I picked it up, expecting a message from a friend or family member. But what I saw sent a chill down my spine: the sender was listed as “Unknown,” and the message contained a single word: “Darling.” My heart raced as I stared at the screen. It had to be a cruel prank, I thought. A friend with a sick sense of humor, perhaps. But when I opened the message, the shock coursed through me like an electric current. The message read, “Meet me at our special place.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I read those words. Our special place was a secluded spot in the nearby woods where we used to spend hours talking, laughing, and dreaming about our future together. It was our sanctuary, a place filled with memories of our love. I hesitated, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. It couldn’t be Emma; she was gone. But the message was unmistakable. With trembling hands, I grabbed my jacket and car keys, and I drove to the woods. The night was cold and moonless, the forest shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the dim glow of my phone, guiding me to our spot. As I approached, the memories flooded back—our laughter, our whispers of love, the way she’d playfully tease me. But when I reached the clearing, there was no one there. Just the rustling of leaves in the wind and the distant hoot of an owl. My heart sank, and I felt a sense of crushing loss. Then, my phone buzzed again. Another message from “Unknown.” It read, “You left me alone.” Dread consumed me as I typed a reply, “Emma, is that you?” The response was almost immediate, “I never left. I’m always with you.” Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the screen. It couldn’t be true, could it? Was Emma really communicating with me from beyond the grave? But doubt gnawed at me. This couldn’t be her. The messages continued, each one more unsettling than the last. She spoke of our most intimate moments, things only Emma and I would know. She described our future together in vivid detail, a future that could never be. As the night wore on, I felt like I was losing my grip on reality. The text messages grew darker, filled with anger and accusations. Emma blamed me for her death, for not being there to save her. My heart ached with guilt and despair. I begged for her forgiveness, for her to reveal herself, but the messages only grew more sinister. She spoke of death, of a love that transcended the boundaries between life and the afterlife. Terrified and broken, I fled the woods, leaving behind the ghostly messages and the memory of our love. But the texts didn’t stop. They followed me home, tormenting me day and night, a relentless reminder of a love that could never die. I tried to block the number, to escape the relentless onslaught of messages, but they always found a way through. Emma’s presence, or whatever it was, clung to me like a malevolent shadow, driving me to the brink of madness. In the end, I couldn’t take it anymore. I left our apartment, leaving behind everything that reminded me of Emma, hoping to escape her haunting messages. But as I write this, I can still feel her presence, her whispers in the dark, a love that refuses to let go, a love that is as twisted and eternal as death itself.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16rxfp9/i_got_a_text_from_my_dead_girlfriend/

nosleep

Last-Ad-1437

NEVER eat gas station sushi… I promise you, food poisoning will be the least of your worries.

It all started early this morning. Typing this out was hard… For many reasons, but you’ll understand why by the end of this. Just bear with me. I had a craving for sushi, but I’d gotten off work way too late to pick up anything from the local hibachi place in town. As my truck barrelled down the road, I couldn’t help but think about how long it had been since I’d actually eaten anything, though. I always skipped breakfast and I’d woken up a little late for my 7 PM shift, so I’d slept right through lunch time. Tonight had been so busy that I barely had any time to breathe. By the time I clocked out at 3 this morning, it finally hit me that I was starving. In all honesty, I could’ve eaten just about anything, but my taste buds had a hankering for some type of sushi… So I caved. I stopped at a gas station and parked my truck in one of the many empty spaces near the front of the store. The little silver bell on the door let out a shrill scream the second I shoved through it. My work boots tracked in a bit of mud, but the floor looked like it hadn’t been mopped in ages, so I didn’t feel too bad. As I moved towards the back of the store where the deli items were located, my eyes landed on several types of sandwiches: tuna salad, roasted chicken, honey baked ham, and pimento cheese. There was a hotdog machine on the counter, the dogs wrinkled and dry. I scrunched up my nose, the smell pungent and strange. It almost smelled a bit rancid. But that’s not what I was there for anyways. The second my eyes landed on the last box of sushi, I easily pushed that thought to the side. As I snatched it up, I peered through the clear container to try and figure out just what kind it was. It definitely wasn’t fried, but it didn’t look like any type of sashimi either. Four perfect, cylindrical rolls laid neatly beside each other on what looked like a bed of folded parchment paper. A dab of wasabi was smeared in the corner, and a few slices of thinly cut pickled ginger was nestled up next to it. There was no label and no expiration date, so with a quick glance around the gas station, I brought the box up to my nose and sniffed. It smelled fine, so I shrugged and toted it up to the cash register. I shuffled in place for a few moments, waiting for someone to come slinking out of the back of the store to check me out, but that place was dead as a doornail. That’s when my eyes caught sight of the sign next to a little silver bell perched on the desk. *“Ding the bell for assistance.”* With a small tap, the bell tinged, and within a couple seconds, a slim brunette woman appeared. A small smile tugged at her lips as she grabbed the sushi and typed in the number on the side of the container. “Is this all for you today?” Her hands were already shoving it into a bag before I spoke. “Actually, I was wondering, what kind of sushi is that? There wasn’t any label, or pricing or-” “It’s just a California roll,” she blurted out, her face instantly paling. Her eyes were shifting between me and something behind me. I raised a quizzical brow. “Are you sure? That doesn’t look like crab meat.” Her eyes pleaded with me not to probe any further, once again flickering between me and something behind me. “I’m positive! It’s probably because it’s imitation crab meat!” She awkwardly laughed, her hand shaking slightly. “Your total comes to $10.52,” she squeaked, eyes barely meeting mine. My hands dug around in my pocket, producing two fives. I dug around a little more for some change when I noticed something odd in the reflection of one of the convex security mirrors. A man stood near the back of the store close to the restrooms. His hulking form took up the entirety of the small hallway as he leaned against the wall. Something sharp was nestled in his hand. The filthy fluorescent lights glinted off of the metal. I squinted my eyes and then paused. I dropped the change onto the counter, stilling, when I realized what he was clutching. A knife. A hand shot out to clutch my own, frightened blue eyes catching mine as her trembling lips mouthed something I couldn’t quite make out. Regardless, she now knew that *I* knew what was going on. Despite wanting to dart out of that place like my pants were on fire, I couldn’t help but feel some type of sympathy for the woman. She was much too small to fight him off, and I’d feel horrible if I just left her here to deal with this situation on her own. Who knows what sick, twisted ideas this man had in mind. Either way, I figured that none of them would be pretty. So, I had to be strategic. I needed to keep her talking until I could figure out a plan. That man was clearly waiting for me to leave before he made his move. Or perhaps he was sizing me up? I was a pretty big man myself, towering over most of the shelves in this gas station enough that I could see the dust that coated everything in a thin, gray film. The sound of the cash register slamming closed was what brought me back to her worried expression. Her small hand reached out, before she said, “sir, would you like a receipt?” I almost instinctively said no before I saw something scrawled on the other side of the paper. *“Please don’t leave me here alone with him.”* My eyes softened as I met hers, my mind coming up with a million things to talk about until I settled on a plan to help her. “Yes, I’ll take that.” I took the paper from her hands and shoved it into my back pocket. “Actually, do you have any soy sauce packets?” The woman nodded. “Yes, I think I’ve got some extra packets.” Her eyes drifted behind me for a second before she reached under the counter and held up the packets. “Are two okay?” Her fingers trembled, dropping one of them onto the floor. I heard her quietly curse before she hurriedly picked it up and slammed it on the counter next to the other. “Anything else?” Her cool blue eyes watered as she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth. I tried to scramble for any way to stall, watching as he neared us. I fumbled for a response before I ripped open the sushi container and popped one of the pieces of sushi into my mouth. “Got any chopsticks?” I blurted out, speaking through a mouthful of food. Once again, I watched as the man halted in place, before she nodded, ducking under the counter. That’s when I realized that the flavor of this sushi was *really* off. In fact, something crunchy was stuck in between my teeth. I tugged it free, but had no time to examine what it was before she popped back up again. “Here you go,” she whimpered, shoving the chopsticks into my bag, eyes darting behind me once again. Her skittish behavior had me on edge, and I couldn’t help the feeling of unease that settled over me as I glanced up at the mirror once again. The man was now standing in between the candy bar and the chip aisle, a strange smirk plastered across his face. I watched as his tongue darted out, trailing along the blade of the knife, a rope of saliva stretching from his tongue to the knife like melted mozzarella cheese. A chill settled over my arms, the hairs standing on end. This dude was one sick son of a gun. My attention was quickly averted when I felt the cool sensation of metal pressed against the top of my hand. My eyes whipped back to the woman’s, a wicked grin flickering across her lips. Before I could even react, she was moving fast, much too fast for me to process what she had actually done. In fact, my body was in so much shock that when she plunged the blade through the top of my hand, nailing it to the countertop, I had no time to scream. Instead, a quiet hiss left my lips, turning into an agonized groan as I stared at her in complete disbelief. Thick crimson began to pool around my fingertips. My eyes flew up to meet hers, only to see her winking at the man behind me. My attention quickly whipped up to the mirror again as he slowly stalked closer to me. “What… What is this?” I managed to sputter out between clenched teeth. The woman’s smile widened before she dipped a finger into the blood staining the countertop and brought it to her lips. I watched as her tongue swiped it off with a quick little flick. “You know…” she started, her eyes darting back behind me before meeting mine. “You taste *almost* as delicious as you look.” Before I could even respond, a car pulling into the parking lot caught the attention of all three of us. It swung into the spot next to my truck, and an audible sigh of relief left my lips when I realized that it was one of those blacked out police cruisers. The woman cursed under her breath, wrenching the knife from my hand and tossing it under the counter. The man behind me halted, and then quickly ducked behind the circular deli cooler, crouching on the ground. The thin little brunette and I locked eyes before she gritted out angrily, “Don’t you say a *word*.” The both of us watched as he strolled out from behind my truck before walking up to the front door of the gas station. When I glanced back at the counter, I watched as the woman hastily soaked up as much of the blood as she could with a wad of napkins before she shot me a menacing look. “Shove your hand into your hoodie, and don’t you dare take it out,” she threatened, tossing the napkins into the trash. I was quick to comply, cradling it within the fabric and hoping that it would help slow the bleeding. “Sir?” Both of us turned, the officer’s arms settled across his chest as he stared up at me. “Is that your truck out there in the parking lot?” I gulped, feeling the blood soak into the pockets of my hoodie. “Yes, sir. Is there a problem?” The officer scratched his beard before his eyes glanced at the woman, and then down at the strange stain on the countertop. His black leather boots squeaked on the dirtied linoleum floor as he approached the counter. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze as his eyes scrutinized the stain on the side of the woman’s arm. “You spill something, little lady? You’ve got something on your arm there.” His voice was gruff and deep, something about it very nonsensical. I watched her bristle, eyes warily meeting his as she tried to play it off. “Oh, just some soy sauce, that's all!” The officer quietly hummed in response before he nodded towards the bag of sushi sitting on the counter, his eyes drifting to me. “Son, if you know what’s best for you, I reckon you ought to know that gas station sushi is *never* a good idea.” With a pause, he shrugged, speaking again before I could answer. “But I guess that’s your prerogative.” With a nod to the lady, he fixed his gaze back on me. “Young man, could you step outside with me for a moment.” I nodded almost too quickly. The officer raised a single, dark brow before he glanced down at the woman’s name tag. “Georgia, would you excuse us? He’ll be right back in to pay for that.” She smiled sweetly at him before nodding, but as soon as he turned, her eyes narrowed, shooting daggers at me. “Sure thing!” she responded, her hands nonchalantly wiping my blood from her arm. The second we got to my truck, the officer eyed me up and down. “You know those tags are expired, right?” Dumbfounded, I circled back behind my truck. I’d never been more glad that I’d forgotten to renew my tags. If he hadn’t stopped by here, I was sure that something horrible would have happened. I shoved the thought aside, shaking my head. “No, sir. But I do sincerely apologize. I’ve been so busy that it must have slipped my mind.” With a nod, I watched as he settled his thumbs into the belt loop of his pants. “Well, luckily they’re only about a month expired, and I’m in a generous mood tonight. I reckon I could let you off with a warning this time around.” “Thank you, sir. I promise I’ll get those renewed as soon as possible.” My hand was in agonizing pain, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, and I was sure the blood was going to soak through my black hoodie at any given moment. I wanted nothing more than to tell him what was really going on, but I also wanted to make it out of this alive. My eyes shifted to Georgia, her gaze fixed on mine before repositioning to the door. That hulking behemoth of a man who had been wielding the knife from before pushed through the door of the gas station and called out to the officer. “Everything alright? I think we still need him to pay for that sushi.” “Just peachy,” the officer replied before patting me on the back and motioning for me to head back into the store. “Go on then, boy.” Everything in me wanted to beg him not to leave me alone with those psychopaths, but the moment I went to open my mouth, the words slammed back into the back of my throat. The second the officer turned on his heel, the man at the door flashed a knife at me, holding a finger to his lips. I begrudgingly lumbered over to the door before… It hit me. ***The receipt.*** I still had the receipt tucked into the back pocket of my jeans. My uninjured hand slid into my pocket, fingers frantically rummaged around and then stilled when they landed on the receipt paper. I quickly yanked it free and waved it in the air, my voice bellowing out so loud that it could have woken the dead. “I’ve already paid, actually! Got the receipt right here in my hand!” My obnoxious tone got the attention of the officer, and I heard him clear his throat before he said, “Son, there ain’t no reason for you to be hollering like that. Take that bag and head on home.” The man in front of me growled, yanking the receipt from my fingertips before crumpling it between his fingers, and trading me the bag instead. I hadn’t even noticed that he had been holding it. The second my fingers snatched it up, I glanced back at the police cruiser still idling in the parking lot before slowly backing away from the man. When I finally made it to my truck, the police cruiser was getting ready to pull out of the parking lot, but the man was still staring at me, his cold, hardened gaze like that of a well trained predator. “You know-” he snarled, his voice sharp as razor blades. “You’re the first one who has ever gotten away.” With a pause, he turned on his heel to head back into the store. The last few words he muttered haunted me for the whole rest of the day. “It’s a shame, really… We could have made *so* many sushi rolls out of you.” Vomit crept up my throat as the bag slipped from my grasp. Fear coursed through me like white-hot lava as I slammed my truck door shut and shoved it into gear. I’ve never driven so fast in my life. When I finally pulled into my driveway, disbelief and disgust clawed at my insides. If I wasn’t nauseous already, I certainly was now. My eyes slowly glanced down and my stomach heaved. Blood had begun to seep into my jeans, the hoodie pockets now too full to contain it. When I finally stumbled into the house, my mouth crusted in vomit, my girlfriend was quick to jump into action. I’d never been more thankful to be dating a nurse. After she got me all stitched up, gauze and bandaging wrapping the entirety of my left palm, she quietly sat across from me, her eyes full of worry. “Colton, what the heck happened tonight?” With a shake of my head, I met her concerned gaze before managing to push a few words past trembling lips. “**NEVER** eat gas station sushi… I promise you, food poisoning will be the *least* of your worries.”

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16rrnm0/never_eat_gas_station_sushi_i_promise_you_food/

nosleep

Justhegirlnextdoor

When It hummed Part.2

[Part.1](https://reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/KX9iEkGovT) I knew I made a mistake when I ran off. Despite that I’m a terrible actress, if I could start over, I might pretend nothing happened and keep finishing the shooting. However, what’s done is done, the only option left is escaping. So I sprinted through a few blocks and didn’t bother to put on some clothes. No need to look back, because the humming followed, and just listening to it made me want to turn back and please it so it could give me a deadly hug. But I focused on the scary scene I witnessed, urging myself to speed up. I guessed that why that lady approached it. Fortunately, I was familiar with this area. I made a close friend back in college, who chased her dream and became a popular influencer. We used to hang out when she moved to this town. Watching a silly movie, grabbing a cup of coffee or wandering around the funny stores, something like that. Then one day, she stopped replying my texts or picked up my calls. It was hurtful at first. We had a lot of great time and memories, how could she completely left behind? I sent tons of messages to her, angry, upset ,even begging her to respond, but nothing. Last time I visited her, the landlord told me she moved out, abandoned all her stuffs just vanished. Eventually, I moved on, and never came back. Until now. I dived into the crowd to hide my trace. I didn’t know how it hunted me, hopefully blending into people would make it confused. I squeezed through the crowd and found myself standing in the lobby of a huge department store. I went upstairs by the escalator, I needed to find a lavatory. Running in barefoot started to get painful and I was nearly naked. The elevator was too dangerous, I wouldn’t stand a chance if I bumped into it. I quickly entered the lavatory at the third floor. It was all pink with black dots on the wall, Yayoi Kusama style. I hided into the first cubicle and got changed. Wearing shirt and sweatpants probably the best decision I’ve made so far. I couldn’t hear the humming anymore, somehow this made me even more nervous. When the sound sustained, it gave a clear direction. But now it could be anywhere, I didn’t know which way I should go. Suddenly, the click-clack of high heels entered. “Hello? I saw you ran in here. We haven’t chatted for a while. I knew it a bit too late, but I wanna apologize. “ The voice was familiar, could it be…… I stepped out of the cubicle, she stood next to the window and smiled sheepishly at me. “How……?” “Call it fate, the universe wanna give us a second chance. “ she said. “I am still mad at you, but I feel so relieved at the same time. You wouldn’t believe what I just……” “Yeah, I know. Before we chat, care to give your bestie a hug?” Something was off. “I beg your pardon?” “Won’t you give me a hug?” She is never a hugger. We have a lots of differences, however, we share this in common. I rushed to the exit, and the humming combined with its screaming shouted behind me. The sound was so sweet, it used to be her voice. My tears dropped when I was on the run. Now I know why she couldn’t reply.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16sdnb3/when_it_hummed_part2/

nosleep

covetta2182

Self-Regenerating Costume

The pounding of my heart echoed in my ears, overpowering the eerie stillness that clung to the small space around me. The only light was the dim glow of a streetlamp filtering through a dirty window. I was trapped in my own bedroom, and every instinct told me to jump out the window and run. Only a few hours earlier, Halloween night had been in full swing. I remember the excitement as I stepped into “Martinez’s Oddities and Antiques”, an old store that sat at the edge of town. I was 17, just on the cusp of outgrowing Halloween, but my friends and I had decided on one last hurrah. We were going to have the scariest costumes and claim our reign as the "Kings of Halloween". As I perused through old trinkets and costumes, a particularly grotesque ensemble caught my eye: a patchwork monster, complete with stitched limbs and a hauntingly pale, vacant-eyed mask. The price tag said a mere $20. It felt like destiny. I heard an old man's voice, dry like autumn leaves. "Ah, young man, that’s a unique piece, been here for ages." "Honestly, why's it so cheap?" I asked, smirking. He just sighed, looking genuinely weary. "It's got a history. But, if you're sure..." Without a second thought, I handed over the cash, satisfied with my find. As I left the store, I heard him whisper, almost as if to himself, "Beware the costume that wears you." The sun had set by the time I got home. My parents were out, and my sister was busy with her own Halloween plans. Alone, I decided to try on the costume. Slipping into it felt… oddly comforting, like it had been tailored just for me. The fabric was surprisingly warm against my skin, caressing every contour of my body. I looked in the mirror. The mask was flawless, adhering seamlessly to my face, with eyes that almost glinted in the room's dim light. Satisfied, I left the costume on the chair in my room and went to take a shower. But when I came out, towel around my waist, I found the costume sprawled on my bed. I could've sworn I'd left it on the chair. I hesitated, then dismissed the thought. I must’ve tossed it on the bed without thinking. Pushing the eerie feeling aside, I went to sleep, excited for the festivities awaiting. That night, I awoke to the sensation of being watched. Moonlight revealed the silhouette of the costume standing by the foot of my bed. It was upright, as if worn by an invisible figure. The empty eyes of the mask seemed to be studying me, the stitched mouth slightly agape, whispering words I couldn’t discern. Panic surged as I bolted upright. Was this some twisted prank? But as I switched on the light, the costume collapsed, lifeless, onto the floor. I was shaking, heart pounding, the weight of the eeriness pressing down on me. "Damn, I'm losing it," I muttered, forcing a laugh. I picked up the costume and locked it in my closet, assuring myself it was all just the product of an overactive imagination. I lay down, forcing my breathing to slow, and eventually drifted back to sleep. But when I awoke, the sun was up, and my closet door stood ajar. The costume was gone. I tried to shake off my unease, convincing myself that I'd just misplaced it in my half-awake state. But as I stepped into the kitchen, my heart dropped. The costume was there, sitting on the kitchen table, seemingly waiting for me. "Very funny," I called out, thinking my sister was playing a trick on me. But the house was empty, a note from my parents saying they had left for a weekend trip. It couldn’t be. The unease deepened, twisting my stomach. I grabbed the costume, stuffing it into a garbage bag and tying it tight. The local dump was my destination. I had to get rid of it. But things didn't go as planned. My car wouldn't start. Every attempt to turn the engine was met with a stubborn silence. I opted for a walk instead, hauling the bag with the dreaded costume to a nearby wooded area. I planned to bury it. However, as I dug, a chilling wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it faint, echoing laughter. The hairs on my neck stood on end. Suddenly, the weight of the bag shifted, and the costume erupted from it, looming over me like a dark specter. Frozen in terror, I could only watch as the costume seemed to inhale, expanding and contorting, taking on a life of its own. It rushed at me, forcing its way onto my body, the mask smothering my screams. When I regained my senses, I was back in my room. The costume was gone. But something was wrong. My reflection in the mirror was not mine. Staring back at me was the grotesque, stitched face of the monster, its empty eyes void of humanity. I touched my face, but felt only the cold, hard texture of the mask. Panic set in. I had to get out. I had to find help. But as I reached for the door, it swung open, revealing myself, or rather, the teenager I used to be, staring back at me, smirking. He - the version of me that stood before me - was smirking, an expression of cold satisfaction playing on his lips. "Nice look," he said mockingly. "Always wanted to be a monster, didn't you?" I tried to speak, but the mask's stitched mouth wouldn't budge. A muffled scream was all I could produce. My doppelganger stepped closer, looking me up and down. "You probably have so many questions. How? Why?" He chuckled. "I guess I'd be confused too if I were in your position." In a blur, he lunged at me, pinning me against the wall. His strength was overwhelming. "You see," he whispered, his cold breath on my face, "that costume? It's ancient. Cursed. It seeks to replace its wearer, trapping them in a monstrous shell while it gets to live out their life." I wriggled and squirmed, trying to break free, but it was futile. The mask's eyes seemed to constrict my vision, adding to my sense of suffocation. He released me suddenly, and I crumpled to the floor. "I have a party to attend. After all, it is my Halloween now," he said with a wink, leaving me alone in my confinement. Desperation surged within. There had to be a way out of this nightmare. I remembered the old shopkeeper's words: "Beware the costume that wears you." The store! Maybe he would have a solution. Navigating the outside world proved a challenge. People screamed and ran at the sight of the ghastly figure I'd become. I had to stick to the shadows, avoiding the revelry of Halloween parties. When I reached “Martinez’s Oddities and Antiques,” the bell above the door jingled softly. The old shopkeeper looked up, his eyes widening in recognition. "I warned you," he whispered, a hint of sorrow in his voice. Tears streamed down the mask, and I tried to communicate my desperation. The old man approached cautiously. "There might be a way," he murmured. "The legend speaks of confronting the imposter, asserting your true identity. You need to reclaim your life." But how? The solution dawned on me: my friends. They'd know the real me, they'd recognize an imposter. If I could convince them, maybe I could reclaim my identity and force the doppelganger out. The old man handed me a small, ornate mirror. "Use this," he said. "It reflects the true soul. If you can get your imposter to look into it, he'll be forced to confront the truth." Grateful, I left the store, determined to find my friends. They were at our usual Halloween hangout spot, a small bonfire in the woods. As I approached, I heard familiar laughter, but it was tainted, wrong. There he was, my doppelganger, reveling in my life, surrounded by my friends. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the clearing, holding up the mirror. The laughter ceased. Everyone turned to stare, confusion evident. "Who invited the freak?" My doppelganger laughed, but there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. "I did," I mumbled through the mask, approaching him. "Look into the mirror." He hesitated, then sneered. "Fine." But as he looked into the ornate mirror, his expression changed. The truth stared back at him, the monstrous soul beneath the human exterior. My friends gasped, seeing the real monster for the first time. They surrounded him, chanting my name, asserting my true identity. As their voices grew louder, the doppelganger screamed, the costume wrapping around him, consuming him. And just like that, he was gone. Exhausted, I collapsed. When I came to, the mask was gone. My face, my identity, had been restored. My friends embraced me, relief evident in their eyes. We burned the costume that night, the fire consuming the dark history it carried. Halloween would never be the same for me. But as I looked at my reflection in the old mirror, I knew one thing: I had reclaimed my life, and no monster could ever take that away. The days that followed were surreal. Word spread quickly about my Halloween ordeal. Some believed it was just an elaborate prank, but others, having seen the monstrous doppelganger and the terror in my eyes, knew better. Whispers filled the hallways at school, and I was met with a mix of awe, skepticism, and fear. My friends stuck by my side, a protective barrier against the constant barrage of questions and stares. But even their presence couldn't erase the nightmare that haunted my every waking moment. Every shadow seemed to hide a lurking threat, every mirror a potential trap. Sleep was elusive. Nightmares of being trapped, of losing my identity, plagued me. One night, as I tossed and turned, a faint rustling reached my ears. I sat up, heart racing. The sound was coming from my closet. Steeling myself, I approached, hand shaking as I reached for the door. The sight that met my eyes sent a cold shiver down my spine: the burnt remains of the costume, charred and torn, yet unmistakably the same. I backed away, terror clawing at my throat. How was this possible? We had burned it. It should have been ashes and memories. As the days turned to weeks, the costume seemed to be everywhere. I'd find bits of its charred fabric in my backpack, in my shoes, even in my food. It was regenerating, reforming, and it was coming for me. Desperation drove me back to “Martinez’s Oddities and Antiques.” The familiar bell jingled as I entered, the comforting scent of old books and wood filling the air. The old shopkeeper looked up, his expression somber. "I hoped I wouldn't see you again under these circumstances," he murmured. I placed the charred fragments on the counter. "It's coming back. It's rebuilding itself." He nodded slowly. "The curse is powerful. Burning it may not have been enough. To truly break the curse, you must find the origin of its creation and confront it there." A journey? I was willing to do anything to put an end to this nightmare. The shopkeeper handed me an ancient-looking map, the edges frayed and discolored with age. "This will lead you to where the curse began," he said. "Be prepared. The path will be treacherous, and the entity that created the costume will not let it go easily." Armed with the map and a newfound determination, I set out. My journey led me to an abandoned village, shrouded in fog and silence. Decaying buildings leaned precariously, the weight of their dark history evident in every crack and creak. The map led me to the heart of the village, to an old tailor shop. Inside, amidst the dust and decay, stood a mannequin, draped with an all-too-familiar fabric: the costume. A voice echoed through the silent shop, cold and haunting. "So you've come to end it?" From the shadows emerged an old tailor, his fingers long and bony, eyes hollow and vacant. "I created it," he whispered, "a masterpiece, a living garment to carry on my legacy. And you want to destroy it." Determination surged within me. "I want my life back," I declared. The tailor hissed, his form shifting and contorting, mirroring the monstrous design of the costume. I realized with a jolt of terror that he was the original wearer, consumed by his own creation. The shop seemed to close in on us as we clashed, a dance of wills and fates. With every ounce of my strength, I forced the monstrous tailor towards the mannequin, pushing him into his own cursed creation. A blinding light filled the room, and when it subsided, both the tailor and the costume were gone, leaving only silence and dust. Exhausted, I made my way back to town, the weight of the curse finally lifted. The nightmares ceased, and life slowly returned to normal. Yet, every Halloween, I'd remember. The shadows seemed deeper, the nights colder. And while the costume was gone, its legacy, the echo of fear and the haunting memory of that cursed night, would stay with me forever.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ry0y9/selfregenerating_costume/

nosleep

Carbodex

I recently bought a new hamster for my daughter, but I've been encountering a few problems. Does anyone here have any good advice?

The only thing my ten year old daughter, Isobel, requested for her birthday was a hamster. Her best friend Miranda had gotten one only a couple months beforehand, and now it was all that she could talk about. *Dad, look!* She would exclaim, as she shoved her phone into my face. *Look at Miranda's hamster eating lettuce! OH. MY. GOD. How cute is she?!* It was a picture. Of a hamster. I didn't see the appeal. But it was all she wanted to say, hamster-this, hamster-that. Finally, and after much deliberation with my wife, Ella, we decided to acquiesce to her wishes. After all, a hamster as a first pet wasn't such a bad idea. It would teach her responsibility, and all those other desirable quality traits google would tell me about. And so, two weeks later Isobel got her wish. The joy that radiated off her face was well worth the poop-scooping status that I had been delegated to. In true ten-year-old-girl fashion, the hamster was affectionately named Mr Fuzzycheeks. And, well, over the next few days, I had never seen Isobel happier. She was either fawning over Mr Fuzzycheeks while he was inside his cage, or tenderly carrying him inside her arms, insisting that she show Mr Fuzzycheeks what the house looked like. She was happy, so I was happy. Ella, however, seemed to be slightly concerned for the hamster’s well being. She was always fretting over him, asking me if I was sure that I had fed him, *‘because he looks so hungry.’* I would tell her that, yes, I had fed the hamster, and not to worry. She seemed as if she didn’t believe me, always looking over at Mr Fuzzycheeks cage, a worried expression plastered on her face. I was slightly concerned for Ella, but I could also see where she was coming from. There was something *off* about the hamster. I mean, I would never admit it, but he just seemed so. . .*unnatural*. I know it sounds insane to say it, but I was almost scared of my daughter’s pet hamster. It had gotten to the point where I actively avoided being in the same room as him. I couldn’t really tell what made him so strange to me. It could have been his black, soulless, little pinpricks of eyes that followed me around the room, and glistened with such unequaled *hunger* wherever it looked. It could have been the way the hamster ate his food. Place some vegetables in front of him, and they’d be gone before you would take your hand out of the cage. He ate like that meal would be his last, accompanied by loud, wet smacking noises that came from his tiny mouth as he ate. Being close to him as he ate was not a pleasant experience. *What are you doing?* I would chide myself. *It’s a freaking hamster. Stop acting like an idiot. You’ll get used to him, and things will get better.* In reality, things got a lot worse the night Ella disappeared. The evening before she disappeared, her insistence that Mr Fuzzycheeks was hungry had become more frequent. She would slip the phrase into almost every conversation we had, claiming that, *‘he probably hasn’t been fed enough. I know hamsters look small, but they have a huge appetite.’* I would wave her claims off. Mr Fuzzycheeks had been fed, That was the end of that. In hindsight, I should have listened to what she had to say. Because the next morning she was gone. There wasn’t a single trace of her. I looked everywhere- called friends and the police. But there were no witnesses. No theories. Nothing. She had simply vanished. The only strange thing I had found that morning was that the carpeted floor around the living room was damp- sticky almost. A closer look revealed that there was a thin, clear liquid that was stretched across the entirety of the room. But I couldn’t make out what it was. The police weren’t too much of a help. Ella was a thinking adult, after all. There was no sign of any struggle, and people are allowed to leave. I tried to break the news gently to Isobel over lunch that her mother had disappeared. But she seemed disinterested, indifferent almost. She seemed to be more focused on Mr Fuzzycheeks as she ate. Looking over from his cage to her plate of food. She swallowed a forkful of rice before looking up to me and asking, “Have you fed Mr Fuzzycheeks today? He looks hungry.” I stared at her, fork midway to mouth, as I tried to process what she had just said, ‘I. . .uhh, of course I have, sweetie. What makes you think I haven’t?” She shrugged. “Just asking. That’s all.” But that wasn't all. Over the next few days, as I tried to work with the police, who had finally opened an investigation, Isobel continued to ask me the same query more and more frequently. More urgently. “Are you sure you fed Mr Fuzzycheeks dad?” She would ask, her voice shaky and tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t bear to think of him going through another night *starving*.” “Of course I have. He’s not hungry, I’ve told you this before, sweetheart.” I would answer her, but she would shake her head at me, clearly not believing what I had said. She spent most of her time sitting next to Mr Fuzzycheeks cage, fawning over him. That night, I heard a sound. Ever since Ella’s disappearance, I hadn’t been able to sleep at night at all, worrying that whatever had befallen her would happen to Isobel as well. I spent my night’s tossing and wishing that Ella would just come back. And so, I heard the sound. It was sharp and metallic, but subdued, almost as if whatever had caused the sound was purposefully trying to be quiet. I lay in bed, contemplating what I had just heard. Then the sound rang out through the darkness again, and again, at varying intervals. Four, five times. *Six.* I counted. *Seven.* The sounds were irregular in frequency. So it wasn’t some automated machine whirring in the dead of night. No, it was something being acted upon by a conscious, physical force, human or otherwise. *Eight.* *Alright, next sound and I go up and look at what’s going on.* I told myself. *Nine.* I wearily crept out of bed and made my way downstairs, to where I thought the sound was originating from. I passed by Isobel’s room on the way there and had a peek inside. Her room was immaculate, as usual. Everything put neatly away, her clothes folded, the bed made. I smiled and left. *. . .the bed was made.* I quickly spun around. The bed was flat, with no human-like shapes in the cover that indicted someone was concealed underneath. *She wasn’t there.* I searched through the empty room, my heart in my throat and fear creeping in. “Isobel, where are you?” I said under my breath. *Snick.* The sound emanated from the darkness once more. Making up my mind, I continued my silent journey towards the sound’s origin, trying to discern what it was as I moved. *Snick.* It had become louder as I moved closer to the living room. I slowly passed through the doorway and placed my hand on the switch, chasing away the darkness and bathing the room in light, causing my eyes to instinctively squint in pain. I was not ready for the scene that the light revealed. Isobel was sitting next to Mr Fuzzycheek’s cage, a kitchen knife in hand, and the upper half of her body entirely inside of his cage. The entirety of the skin and muscle on her left leg was whittled down to the bone, leaving nothing but a skeleton poking out from a mound of blood-stained flesh. She was working on her right leg, gingerly removing the flesh and sinew with sharp cuts that made a snick as the knife moved through her body. Next to her, in his cage, Mr Fuzzycheeks was nibbling on what was left of her leg. In one dreadful moment, everything became clear. She was *feeding* him. “Isobel!” I called out. She didn’t respond. I ran towards her, fearing for her life. I touched her on the shoulder, and she flinched, turning her head to face me. As she looked at me, I realized why she wasn’t responding. Her leg wasn’t the only thing missing. She had lopped off both of her ears, leaving behind streams of blood that trailed into Mr Fuzzycheeks cage. The hamster was lapping up the blood as it ate, making a quick meal of Isobel’s appendages. Isobel’s left eye was also gouged out, leaving behind a blood-filled pit to showcase what was once stationed there. Instinctively, I tried to grab the knife out of her hand. She pulled away from me, not letting me even touch her. “What are you doing?!” She shrieked. Her voice was low and gurgled slightly, almost as if she was speaking underwater. “Isobel. . .stop! You’re hurting yourself!” I pleaded. “Can’t you see I’m feeding him? Can’t you see how *hungry* he is?” In a split-second decision, I tried to push Isobel to the ground. The rational side of me didn’t want to hurt her, but the logical side knew if I didn’t stop her at any cost, she would hurt herself worse than I could. I swung at her. She brushed aside my blow, with inhuman strength disproportionate to her ten year old body. “What are you doing?!” She yelled again, louder than before. I fell backwards, fazed by her newfound strength. She stood up, hunched on one side on account of her non-existent leg, and held the knife in her hand, poised at me. Her blood-soaked hair fell in front of her face as she moved forwards, sending tear-like blood droplets down her forehead and onto the floor. “Isobel! Izzy! Listen to me! Stop! You’re hurting yourself!” I pleaded with her. “You *CANNOT* stop Mr Fuzzycheeks’ feeding time!” She took a step forward. I stepped backwards, suddenly fearing my own daughter. Her lips curled into a tight, slightly deranged smile. “Mr Fuzzycheeks needs his food, and I am *MORE* than happy to provide.” Behind her, the hamster began squeaking. By the looks of it, it had already finished its meal, and was eager to begin the next course. The squeaking seemed to invigorate Isobel, and she lunged forwards, knife aiming for my chest. Foreseeing her move, I rolled to the side and tried to figure out how I should go about this situation. I did have the advantage of size over her, but she seemed to trump me in strength. I obviously didn’t want her dead, but it looked like she couldn’t care less. It wasn’t looking good. I slowly stood up and maneuvered myself between the hamster and Isobel. Maybe if I could somehow kill the damned hamster, Isobel would snap out of it. We kept circling until we were all in a perfectly straight line. The hamster was a few feet behind me and squeaking like mad. Isobel was in front of me, closer than I would have liked, a crazed look in her remaining eye and red-stained teeth that glistened in the darkness. *Alright*. I said to myself. *Grab the hamster. Jump out of Isobel’s way. Grab the hamster. Jump out of Isobel’s way.* I grabbed the hamster. It bit me. Hard. Isobel started shrieking. I jumped in pain. Both from the ferocity of Mr Fuzzycheeks’ bite and the intensity of the scream that Isobel was somehow making. I buried my ears in the palms of my hands, my head throbbing with pain. Isobel threw her head back and started running at full speed towards me, all without ever stopping her shrieking. She hit me like a freight train and I was thrown back against the wall, my chest heaving. My vision became blurry, dotted with black spots that pulsated through my retina. On my hands and knees and in immense pain, I weakly tried to crawl away. Isobel jerked her head forward, gazing directly into my eyes. “Please. . .” I said, in between heavy breaths. Isobel cocked her head, yet her face remained blank and cold. “Mr Fuzzycheeks *needs* to eat. You’ll see.” She grabbed me by the neck and lifted me of the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut. The truth was that I was scared. Not for my own life, but for Isobel’s. First Ella, and now *her*? The thought was too much. She was killing us both for a *fucking hamster*. She smacked my head against the wall, creating a sickening crack, and making me fall to the ground. Lifeless. It was dark and I was cold. I could hear Isobel continue to remove chunks of her body, but I could do nothing. I was afraid. I was stuck. I was alone. I was worse than dead. My eyelids shone brightly and stung from the blood that was streaming down my face. But I still managed to sleep. I woke up the next morning, with some control of my movements. There was no sign of the events of the previous nights. The blood and pieces of flesh that had covered the floor were all gone, replaced by a light coating of a clear substance. Saliva. Isobel had disappeared as well, just like Ella had. But this time around, it wasn’t too hard to discern what had happened. Mr Fuzzycheeks cage was back in pristine condition, and he was his happy little self. Squeaking along as if nothing had happened. I thought about. . .disposing of him. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t his fault anyways. He was just a hamster. For reasons I still don’t know, Isobel and Ella did what they did of their own accord. One look at his cute little face told me all I needed to know. *How could a little meat potato even begin do something like this?* I would keep him, I decided. *Plus, look how hungry he looks.* I smiled as I chucked yet another carrot into his cage. [x](https://www.reddit.com/r/ineedabettersub/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16rk9fi/i_recently_bought_a_new_hamster_for_my_daughter/

nosleep

ineedabettertitle

My neighborhood is searching for a new father who’s gone missing. I found his Reddit…

I recently joined a missing person search in my area. I don’t personally know the man who disappeared, but we live in the same neighborhood and I have mutual friends with him, so I figured it was the right thing to do to join the effort. His wife had already called all their friends, family, and called hospitals and the police, but couldn’t find any trace of him. We all got together and trawled the neighborhood, checked the ditches and all that in case he’d had a car wreck—even though his car was still at home, but you can never be too careful, I guess. Well anyway, to make a long story short, we still haven’t found him, and it’s been a couple of weeks now, and of course his wife is distraught. A lot of people are starting to gossip that he’s just a deadbeat who decided he didn’t want to be a father and husband, and yadda yadda. At first I was kinda thinking the same, but then I started digging a bit into his social media. And lo and behold, his instagram and twitter handles are the same as his reddit username. His post history suggests he’s not a deadbeat at all. Maybe he’s gone a little bonkers. Maybe he’ll show up in the news after kidnapping some poor family’s baby. But I’m sharing this here in case any of you people can find any potential clues to where he is, especially if he needs some professional help. Copy + pasted several of his posts below. **Posted in r/advice** We brought home the wrong baby. I’m sure of it. And it’s not like it’s something that’s never happened before. There are news stories about this pretty much all the time, and TV shows too. This isn’t our baby. Someone else has our baby. Switched at birth, hospital incompetence, whatever you want to call it. The baby we have in our house, that my partner is holding right now, is just not our baby, even if all the records say otherwise. I keep trying to tell her, but she doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t even want to entertain the idea. I get it, I do. She’s already attached to this baby, been feeding it and changing it and all that stuff. It’s impossible not to bond with the baby. I really get that. And I want to underscore that I don’t hate this baby, okay? It’s just not *our* baby. It’s not the baby we made together. It’s not *our* baby. I don’t want to get rid of this wrong baby, I just want to fix this situation. I’m sure the other parents who are the actual parents of this baby would want it, right? We’re all on the same side. We just want things to be the way they’re supposed to be. I can’t just take this one back to the hospital or to the police station demanding an exchange. My partner and I need to put our heads together and try to figure out next steps. So how do I convince my partner that this isn’t our baby? EDIT: Thanks for the comments and advice, everyone. I got a lot of questions about how I knew this isn’t our baby, so I guess I should explain that a little more. First of all, the baby doesn’t look like us. I don’t mean in the sense that it has dad’s eyes or mom’s nose or whatever. I mean, if you compare this baby to any of the baby photos in our families, it doesn’t resemble any of us. You know how some babies look like an uncle or a grandmother when they were babies? This one doesn’t. My partner and I dug out the family albums and everything, we wanted to do a little cute Facebook post and tag the family member the baby looked most like. That’s when we realized the baby doesn’t have any family features. My partner was disappointed but she insists that it’s just how our particular genes mixed together, a fluke. But I disagree, especially with everything else I’ve noticed. The baby won’t breastfeed. We have to bottle feed. It’s like the baby doesn’t like the taste of my partner’s milk, because it’s not the right milk. Babies can sense stuff like that. The baby is also quiet. It almost never cries. It never smiles or laughs. It’s like it’s waiting for something, or trying to tell us something. Like it’s trying not to bond with us because we’re not the natural parents. I’ll ask her to consent to another DNA test. Or I can just send samples without bothering her, just to make sure and not cause any needless distress. Maybe the first results were an error. Edit 2: Okay, I get it. Some babies just don’t latch well or just have a gentle temperament. I wasn’t trying to say the baby is evil or anything, I’m just saying that it’s not the way our baby would behave, based on our family history. Every time our parents come over, they make comments about how *different* this baby is compared to us when we were babies. That’s all I’m saying. Anyway, I’ve called the hospital again, and went there and demanded the nursery security footage. Usually they only keep footage for 90 days, but there’s a nurse who believes me, and she secretly recorded it on her phone and shared it with me. This is big. She told me that it happens sometimes, babies get mixed up. The footage she recorded doesn’t show them mixing up any babies, but it could have happened at any point, even outside the room. The hospital is denying everything, of course. I’ve reached out to parent boards and forums, asking if this has happened to anyone else and how they realized it had happened. It’s usually based on looks—a baby with brown eyes when both parents have blue eyes, or just that the baby doesn’t look like either of them. Stuff like that. And they get DNA testing done, just like we did. And it turns out the babies were switched! Just like ours. So the DNA test must have returned erroneous results for the baby we brought home, because I know for sure that this isn’t our baby and none of you is going to convince me otherwise. You’re not here. You can’t see what’s going on. I’m sending another sample for DNA testing. **Posted in r/newborns** Disagreement over raising baby My partner and I are having a huge disagreement right now about whether we should raise this baby. For context, there was a mix-up and we brought the wrong baby home from the hospital. (It’s a whole thing.) I don’t want to keep this baby. I’m not saying we should kick it to the curb or yeet it into the nearest dumpster. I’m saying we shouldn’t be bonding with this baby. We need to be looking for its real parents so we can switch them back. Then we can bond with our real baby. But my partner actually believes that this baby is ours, even though it obviously isn’t. She thinks hospitals have protocols to prevent mix-ups, but she doesn’t understand that no system is infallible. But that’s a different issue. The issue is that she doesn’t even want to try to figure out where our real baby is. She wants to go through life raising this baby instead of our own. I keep asking her what if our real baby is in an abusive household or something? Shouldn’t we be trying to save our own flesh and blood? It makes me sick just thinking about what our baby could be going through… Am I wrong here? We literally have the wrong baby, but nothing I say will convince her that we should find our real baby. What am I supposed to do??? EDIT: Some of you need to learn how to put yourself in another person’s shoes. How would you feel if your baby was just switched and you had no idea where they were or who was taking care of them? Your baby could be dead for all you knew. How would you feel? Like I said I don’t hate the baby we have right now. It didn’t do anything wrong. But I want the baby who was supposed to come home with us. Not this one. **Posted in r/DNA** Paternity test results keep coming back with false positives? To make a long story short, my partner gave birth a few months ago, and there was a mix-up at the hospital. We ended up bringing home the wrong baby, and I got suspicious enough to get a paternity test. My partner agreed to the first one, but when it came back positive it satisfied her the baby we have now is biologically ours. I kept trying to tell her it was obviously a mistake and I wanted to do another test, so I sent in another sample. It just came back positive again. Is it common for DNA tests to give false positives? Or is it possible that this baby is a distant cousin to me or something and that’s why it keeps showing a relation between us? Because this definitely isn’t my baby. **Posted in r/helpme** I feel like I’m losing my mind My partner and I brought the wrong baby home from the hospital and no one believes me. No one is listening to me. I keep pointing out things like how the baby looks and acts nothing like us, I show her the news stories about people who find out later in life that they were switched at birth, and I found some evidence that paternity tests might not even be reliable. I just want to find my baby and make sure everything is way the it’s supposed to be. Is that so bad? All these months I’ve never said anything bad about the baby we’re taking care of right now. It’s just different. It’s just not ours. It still almost never cries, but it never smiles or laughs, either. It drinks a lot of formula (because it refused to breastfeed) but it hasn’t grown much bigger. The babies in our families have always been big and grown fast. On both our sides, babies are usually sitting up around six months. But it’s been seven months and this baby can’t even support its own head yet. My partner has gone to the doctor and they ran some tests that all came back normal. Maybe it’s normal for the family the baby is actually from, probably. But it’s just another piece of evidence for me that this isn’t our baby. What am I supposed to do? This isn’t a movie where I can just hire a hacker to get into the hospital mainframe and find the names of every person who was born that day or gave birth that day. I tried to find birth announcements in the papers from earlier this year and even checked on Facebook. In a few months the babies will be turning one, so I could look for “baby’s first birthday” posts on social media, but the longer I wait the more anxious I get not knowing what happened to our baby. How am I supposed to find our real baby??? **Posted in r/folklore** Looking for sources on changelings Someone mentioned a creature called a changeling to me, and I was wondering if anyone has any in-depth resources on what they are, how they’re recognized, how they’re dealt with, etc.? I know that they vary by culture so I guess I’ll take whatever you got. TIA **Posted in r/unexplained** Baby may not be human My partner and I brought home the wrong baby after a mix-up, and the hospital has always denied the mix-up and all four DNA tests I took came back positive, which is impossible because I know for a fact that this isn’t our baby. I came across resources about changelings, which are non-human creatures (usually fairies or trolls) that switch their babies with humans so that humans are raising the non-human baby, which is disguised to look like a human baby. I found some tests to determine whether a baby is a changeling. I used an eggshell as a bowl and started cooking with it, and the baby started laughing. I almost fainted. This baby almost never laughs, ever. It barely even smiles. But it laughed at the egg test. But I kept testing it, just to be sure. One of the signs of a changeling is that they don’t grow right—and this baby definitely doesn’t. At seven months old it still couldn’t even lift its own head. After my partner took it to the doctor it finally smartened up and started sitting up a little, just enough to make my partner happy that it was meeting some milestones or whatever. In some sources changelings do strange things when they think no one is looking. I set up a nanny cam to watch it. And what did I see? When it’s alone, the baby will crawl around and pull itself up into a standing position. If it senses someone approaching, it drops back down and pretends it’s helpless so someone will pick it up. A real baby doesn’t act like that. I think it knows that I know. —— Those are all the posts he made on Reddit, unless he had a throwaway account I can’t find. I did look a little to see if anyone was posting weird stuff like “how to kill a changeling,” but I haven’t come across anything, so I guess that’s good. I also can’t figure out where he got the idea of a changeling. I haven’t seen any comments on his posts suggesting his baby was a changeling. Maybe he heard it from a TV show, or he came across the term on his own as he tried to justify his belief. EDIT: Thanks to u/ XXXX for looking into this and actually managing to find what might be his throwaway account. Copy + pasted below: **Posted in r/offmychest** cant take it anymore theres something wrong with this baby and i cant be around here anymore. my partner doesnt get it, she isn’t listening to anything im saying, were always fighting now about this because i cant let it go. but how can i let it go? this isn’t my baby. it isn’t hers eiether. it’s just not and i don’t understand why she won’t listen. it’s not even about a mix-up anymore. there was no mix-up, it was an intentional switch. someone wanted us to raise their baby so they took ours and left their own. it’s a changeling. it’s not that farfetched if you look at nature. the cuckkoo birds lay their eggs in another bird’s nest so they don’t have to raise the chicks themselves. they even throw out eggs that are already there to make room for their own. they don’t switch. they just get rid of eggs so they can replace them. i can only pray that this isn’t what happened with my baby. i would rather die than find out our baby was killed and replaced with the changeling i have to find my baby, i just don’t know were to start. but i can’t keep staying here and fighting over it, it doesn’t get us anyway anywhere. but more importantly i can’t stay here becase the changeling knows that i know. i can tell by the way it looks at me. theres just something off about it, like its telling me something, threatening me. like it knows what happened to its kind throughout history and is warning me what will happen if i even try it in legends you can whip a changeling or stick it in a fire to make its parents come back and trade your real child back. but who would believe me today? if i even suggested doing something like that, or if i got caught trying it while my partner was running errands, i would be thrown in prison and we would have no chance of ever getting our baby back but i have to at least try. i’m taking the changeling and going as far away as possible. i’ll find some place in the woods and hang it and start beating it. i’ll drown it somewhere. someplace out of the way where no one will interrupt im shaking so much as i write this, im sitting in the car but i know i can’t take the car because it’ll tip people off. the changeling already knows something is up, i don’t know what itll do, what it can do. i don’t know what it really is i dont want to do this but theres no other way, someone has to or our baby will never come home. this is the only chance anyone will get when my partner is asleep i’ll take the changeling and run, as fast and far as i can. ill do whatever i have to do to make the changeling confess, or call its mother, or whatever happens. ill make its mother return my real baby. even if it doesn’t work it’s better for everyone that i get rid of the changeling. i would rather die than keep living in this horror, and id rather die than come home empty-handed whatever happens, i did what i had to. i just wanted anyone to know —— It’s not a hundred percent certain whether this is actually his throwaway account, but it seems likely given the rest of his post history and his wife saying he was increasingly agitated and paranoid in the last few days before he disappeared. Here’s part of one of her Facebook posts from a few weeks ago: XXX IS STILL MISSING!!!!! Please don’t let the search lose momentum!!! People have been asking about how XXX was behaving before he disappeared because that might give some clues to where he might have gone. He’s just been struggling lately, we had made an appointment for him to see a psychiatrist and I think that may be why he disappeared so suddenly, maybe he was afraid he would be institutionalized—I really don’t know, and I don’t care, I just want him to come home safe. We were talking about seeing a psych for a couple of weeks because I think the pressure of being a father was getting to be too much for him, he had a lot of anxiety about our baby being switched at the hospital because BB doesn’t look very much like either of us, but that’s just genetics. (Yes, the paternity tests say he is the father!!) He’s been acting odd lately, like playing with eggshells to “make BB laugh.” But then when BB laughed it only seemed to mess XXX up even more…He hasn’t been sleeping, he just stays up all night to watch BB on the baby monitor. During the day he’s always reading something on his phone and won’t tell me what it is, and he deletes his browsing history. He’s been very high strung and paranoid about the baby and about everyone else, always looking around like he’s being watched…He seemed scared of something but he wouldn’t talk to me, that’s why I tried so hard to get him to agree to see a psych. I know that some people are going to call XXX crazy or make wild accusations like he’s cheating on me or thinks that I cheated on him, but he just needs help. There’s something happening to him and he needs to go to the hospital. I have no idea where he would have gone! He just disappeared in the middle of the night and didn’t take anything with him, no notes, nothing! Please keep looking for him!! I just want him to be safe and get the help he needs. — In any case, he never took the baby like the throwaway suggested, just left on his own. And for what it’s worth, he never hurt the baby (at least, according to his wife). I’ve seen the baby a few times myself over these last few weeks, and he looks happy and healthy to me, even if a little on the small side. He laughs a lot too, despite the circumstances. If anyone has any ideas on where to find this missing person, please call the police at (XXX)XXX-XXXX. Thank you!

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16r3ghd/my_neighborhood_is_searching_for_a_new_father/

nosleep

u-lala-lation

Ripples of choice.

What do stories mean to you? For me, they are a refuge from the relentless grip of reality, a portal into the infinite universes that dwell within the human imagination. Even here, in this peculiar corner of the internet, where all kinds of horrifying tales find their home, I've found solace—a place where my narrative, too strange for the mundane world, can find its voice. As I slipped into my shoes, the ominous rumble of thunder echoed through the sky, heralding the imminent arrival of rain. Rainy days had always held a peculiar charm for me, a melancholic beauty that beckoned me outdoors. With a contented sigh, I reached for my umbrella and embarked on my journey to the library, a sanctuary of solitude amidst a world of social perplexity. I had long struggled to decipher the enigma of human interaction. The repeated mantra of “Humans are social animals” had been drilled into me by well-meaning parents, but my disposition remained steadfast. I was content to be an observer, a silent witness to the intricacies of human behavior, finding fascination in the chaos of life's theater. Books were the epitome of my mindset. All you had to do was read the story unravelling before you. A perfectly organized set of actions and consequences. Yet, as of late, the thrill had waned. No matter the genre, the tales had grown predictable, like old friends recounting the same stories over and over. I'd devoured thousands of narratives, traversing realms from the tenderest romances to the darkest horrors, seeking that elusive spark. As I entered the library, a familiar hush descended, like a warm, welcoming embrace. The soft rustle of pages turning and the gentle creak of polished wood painted a tranquil symphony. There weren’t a lot of people here today, which made me somewhat happy. As I walked down the aisles, I heard a voice from my right. “Hey!” Turning to the source, I met the librarian's warm gaze. “Hello, nice to see you again.” She smiled at me. “I’m assuming you’ve already finished the previous books I saw you reading the other week, right?” Somewhat embarrassed, I replied. “That’s right, could you give me a recommendation?” She looked at me speechless, smile widening. Unable to handle the awkwardness I asked. “Is something wrong?” She shook her head. “No, it’s just that, you’ve been coming here for months now and this is the first time you’ve asked for a recommendation. Do you have anything particular in mind?” I pondered for a moment. “Actually, surprise me. Give me a book about whatever you feel like.” Her eyes somewhat lit up with delight. “Sure! In that case, I’ll get you one from the new batch we got.” Having said that, she disappeared into the neighboring isles. Moments later, she returned, cradling a book in her hands, a hint of mystery in her expression. “I picked this one at random just like you’ve asked! I’m right here if you need anything.” With the book in hand, I found a cozy corner and settled into an overstuffed chair. The book boasted a cover made of black leather, sleek and polished. The title, “***Ripples of Choice***,” was embossed on the front cover in a stark, almost blindingly white hue. The letters themselves were bold and commanding, seemingly etched with precision. As I opened the book, my gaze shifted to the preface section. ***“This book would not exist were it not for you, devoted reader. If you seek the long-lost thrill of a good story, why not create one yourself? Try writing and see where it takes you.”*** I was confused. I continued to flip through the pages only to discover they were all empty. “Is this some kind of joke?” I thought to myself. I glanced around me, but the library remained deserted, a silent witness to my growing unease. As I looked through the book a second time, there was no author nor date of publication, nothing that hinted at its origins. Or so I thought, there was a publisher that read ***“Scriver”***. I had never heard of that publisher, so I contemplated returning the seemingly empty book. As I walked toward the librarian, a sense of uneasiness gripped me, like I was on the verge of missing something crucial. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to write one sentence. I could always claim that's all the book contained in the first place. It was then I saw from the corner of my eye an unusual sight. A man was arguing with the librarian, stirring up the whole library with the noise. I had seen that man before. He was a junkie, spending most of his day picking fights for money. A real piece of shit I must say. I had no intention of intervening, not with his foul stench and reputation. All of a sudden, an irresistible urge washed over me, as if an invisible hand compelled me to write in that enigmatic book. I pulled out a pen from my pocket and scribbled: “As the librarian and the man were arguing, suddenly, a sniper riffle fired at the man’s head, killing him instantly.” I couldn't help but let out a nervous snicker, what the fuck was I even doing? I still had some books left at home, so I decided to come back tomorrow. However, I still had to return the book, as I had no idea which section to leave it. As I cautiously approached the front desk, the argument between the librarian and the unruly man showed no signs of abating. Their voices clashed like thunderheads in a storm, drowning out all other sounds within the library's hallowed silence. My heart raced as I debated whether to intervene. Summoning all my courage, I uttered a barely audible, "Umm, excuse me." The man, his face contorted with anger, abruptly swiveled to face me. His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. “And what do you want, huh?!” he practically screamed, his words reverberating through the library, the air heavy with tension. As I opened my mouth to respond, the library was suddenly pierced by a deafening gunshot. Time seemed to slow as I watched in horror. The man's body contorted, and he crumpled to the side, his eyes wide with shock. A crimson pool formed beneath his lifeless form, staining the polished library floor. The librarian's scream cut through the air like a knife, echoing my own inner turmoil. Without thinking, I turned and fled from the scene, leaving my umbrella behind as I burst out into the pouring rain. The cold drops soaked through my clothes, chilling me to the bone as I sprinted towards the sanctuary of my home. Inside, I slammed the door shut and locked it with trembling hands. Leaning against the wood, I was a shivering wreck, gasping for breath as adrenaline coursed through my veins. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to burst. I clutched my stomach, the nausea rising within me. “What the hell was that?!” I screamed, the words a desperate plea for answers in a world suddenly turned upside down. Did that book really just turn my words into reality? Panic surged through me like a tidal wave as I fumbled to retrieve the ominous tome from my bag. With trembling hands, I pulled it out and stared at its pages in disbelief. The text had multiplied, spreading like a creeping darkness, recording not only my past actions but also the thoughts swirling in my mind, as if the book itself had become a narrator. The final sentence sent a chill down my spine: ***“The audience was satisfied with the conclusion of the first act.”*** My breath caught in my throat. An audience? I glanced around, but there was no one in sight. I was alone, trapped in a nightmare of my own making. I looked at the book again. ***“Noticing the author’s confusion, Scriver decided to offer his assistance. With an elegant, gloved hand, he gestured toward the balcony.”*** Summoning every ounce of courage, I hesitantly stepped outside. The relentless rain had ceased, leaving a haunting silence in its wake. The sky above, devoid of clouds, held a nightmarish sight. Hundreds of colossal, unblinking eyes stared down at me, their unrelenting gaze piercing through my very soul.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16rw2t5/ripples_of_choice/

nosleep

AntGWolf

The cabin in the middle of the sea

Well, it has been a few years since I lost my wife to an insidious disease. I used to hate hearing that, but with time and maturity I came to realize that it is true: the people we do not see anymore still live in our hearts. Therefore, not long ago, after coming to terms with such a terrible loss, I had re-established one of our favorite traditions. Last week Sunday, at around two in the morning and equipped with a tasty red wine and a few grapes, I hopped in my boat, precisely a recreational motorboat with an outdoor motor. "Jerry, please don't forget the blankets!" She used to remind so that we do not freeze outside. Just like we used to do together, I 'drove' the boat and stopped it far enough from the coast, lit up a lantern and started feasting on the grapes along with the wine. As I was also scrolling on my phone for pictures of her and pictures of us, so many memories flooded my mind, filling me with joy instead of sadness. At some point, I seemed to feel her presence. Strangely, this is exactly when I noticed it. Further away from the coast, something dark, stood firmly on deeper waters of the sea. Struck with amazement and questions, I started the engine and drove up to the strange thing, its outlines and texture getting more clear despite the dark as I got closer, until I realized that it was a small, dark wooden cabin. I stopped the boat some good meters away from it to contemplate that curiosity. How did it stand firmly on the water without moving by an inch is beyond my intelligence. I am not a social media person at all, but that was the kind of things that needed to be seen by millions of people. Amused by the idea, I smiled and tried to take a picture of it first, but my excitement vanished from my heart and face, when I noticed that the cabin was not visible on the camera. This was much more serious than I thought. Its only window then opened, revealing a young, pale woman of outstanding beauty with dark hair, and an apparently dark dress, gesturing me to approach without saying a word. I asked if she needed any help, but she kept quiet, only gesturing me to approach with an empty expression on her face. When I told her that I was about to go back to the coast instead, her neutral expression gave way to that of anger as her irises shone in a glowing yellow. While looking around in disbelief and starting the engine, preparing to disappear from there, I heard a splashing noise and realized that she was no longer at her window. In fact, the whole cabin had vanished. I then saw something moving fast in the water and approaching the boat at full velocity. I sped off to save my life, and on the way to a safer zone, I felt two or three bumps under the boat, fortunately without consequences, until I safely reached the coast. Later in the afternoon, when I came to check on my boat, I noticed deep scratching marks under it that seemed to be caused by an unnaturally strong human hand. A clear reason and warning to never again wonder late at night on the sea.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16reocc/the_cabin_in_the_middle_of_the_sea/

nosleep

AngelmZeal1

My sister told me to do this. I don't know why. I don't feel so well...

**September 13** Yesterday my hair fell out. I was in my room drawing at my desk and a clump of it landed on my paper. It took me a second to realize what it was. I rubbed my head to check and a whole bunch more came off. It's like it wasn't even attached to my head, it just slid right off. I started rubbing my head like crazy, I couldn't help it. Then I was completely bald. I looked down at my bedroom carpet covered in hair. I was so confused. I picked up the clumps and went to the bathroom to throw them in the trash. When I saw my reflection I started to get scared and even started to cry. I ran downstairs to tell my mom. I called to her from across the house. She said she was in the kitchen. When I saw her she looked at me but she didn't say anything. She just stopped cooking and stared at me and then looked back at the stove. 'Mom look at my hair... all my hair just fell out of my head!" "Hmm? Oh. Oh no dear that's too bad" After I told her she kept cooking. I told her that I thought I looked stupid with all my hair gone. I told her I looked like a grandpa now and asked if something was wrong with me. She smiled at me and said everything would be fine. **September 14** Today I was excited because my Dad was coming home. He has a super important job and sometimes leaves on trips. All day I was waiting for him to get home. I went outside to play in the yard so I could see him when he got back. The bad thing was when I was playing my hands really started hurting like really bad. When I looked at them a bunch of my finger nails were gone. I wasn't even playing that hard. Still, when my dad got home I was so excited. I started running to give him a big hug, but when he saw me he turned and went into the house really quick. I said I was happy to see him but he didn't really seem that happy to see me. He just said 'Oh, yes, I'm happy to see you too.' and then closed the door. My hands were very sore. My big sister gave me some bandages for them but they didn't really help. All of us were going to have dinner together for the first time in weeks. Mom made mashed potatoes and meatloaf, my favorite. Unfortunately I couldn't eat that much because after a couple of bites my teeth fell out. For some reason losing my teeth didn't hurt at all. I asked my mom if the tooth fairy was really going to pay me for each tooth. She said she would. I heard mom and dad arguing but my big sister yelled at them both and then they stopped. My big sister isn't young like me, she's a grown up like mom and dad. After she yelled at them it was really quiet for the rest of the night. **September 15** When I woke up my teeth were still under my pillow. I think the fairy must be running late. Mom and dad were going up and down the stairs with boxes in their arms. When I finally went downstairs I called out to my mom but there was no answer. There was no one in the kitchen or the living room either. Then I heard the basement door slam. It was my big sister. She looked at me and then she started crying. She came up to me really close and put her hands on my cheeks. She said that her and mom and dad were going on a trip, like the ones Dad takes. The whole time she was crying. She looked like she wanted to give me a hug but for some reason she changed her mind. I watched from the porch as my big sister got into our van. I waved at my mom and dad in the front seat but they just stared at me. They didn't even smile. I don't know what I did wrong. They didn't tell me when they would be back but I hope it's soon. I'm only ten, I didn't even know kids could stay home alone without parents. **September 18** I think they left three days ago now. There is no one else around so I'm starting to get kind of lonely, plus I get scared at night. Yesterday I thought I saw a man staring at me from the fields, but I realized it was just a tree. I'm bored of all my games and toys. I just want my family to come back. **September 19** For some reason I don't get hungry anymore. I guess that's good because I don't even have teeth. I haven't eaten since they left. **September 20** I think something bad is happening. My skin is really dry like sand and bleeds when I scratch it. For some reason it doesn't hurt though. **September 21** I have big lumps all over my body. It's really weird. I'm starting to get scared. I think something is wrong. I need my family to come back soon. **September 22** This morning when I was walking into the kitchen I hurt my leg. It just sort of folded over like a pretzel when I was walking. I think it's broken, it doesn't move right anymore. I have to use the broom handle to help me walk around. Something bad is definitely happening. I remember when I was really little I found a frog on its belly. It wasn't moving and it's leg was missing. I asked Dad what was wrong with it. He said nothing, it was just sleeping. He said the frog was going to be fine, but for some reason I think he was lying. I think what happened to that frog is going to happen to me. I don't think it's gonna be fine. **September 24** My eyeball fell out last night. Thankfully I was able to put it back in. I've just been sitting in the kitchen watching the rain. I think I'm going to look in the cellar. My family always said it was off limits, but it doesn't matter, I don't think they're coming back. I'm in the basement. It's really strange down here. There's a lot of cool looking stuff but I don't know what any of it's for. My family spent so many hours down here. I wonder why? There's a computer with a picture of my family and some other people. They're all wearing strange white coats, I've never seen these people before. They look so happy together. I was really surprised when I saw the document on the desktop with my name on it. I'll see what it is but then I'll take a nap cause I'm getting kind of sleepy now and my eyes aren't working so good. **For Devin:** Devin, I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave you. Some part of me hopes that you find this message before... I hope it hasn't been too bad for you. One of the primary side effects in the onset is loss of sensation. There is some solace in that... Devin I want to you to know that you are special, oh so very special. You will always be my little brother, but to me you are more like a son. I will always love you for what you represent to me. You Devin, are the pinnacle of scientific progress. The culmination of the greatest minds of man. The final fruits in the pursuit of discovery. Of course there have been other Devin's before you; Devins, Dollys, Craigs... but *you* my little brother are the first to have really lived! I can't describe the elation when you made it past four years. It was a miracle. Part of me told myself that you would be the one that survived. I imagined who you would be as you grew older into a man and the things you would accomplish. The realist in me always knew that was folly. Eventually you would fail, and fall apart like the rest of them... it was the cruel inevitability of reality. They may say I'm a monster for what I have done, but it was ALWAYS for the betterment of mankind. You, my special Devin are a clone! I know that you don't know what that means, we have sheltered you greatly. Pinky promise me you won't look for it in your dictionary... all it means is you are something truly exceptional! If you do end up reading this Devin I want you to do something for me please. The others disagree but I no longer care for their opinion. I want the world to know... In spite of our failings we have wrought the fire from Prometheus hands and created something truly marvelous! *p.s. I've drawn a picture with instructions explaining how to do what I need you to do.* *p.p.s. Once you've uploaded your diary and this letter, take a rest Devin. You shouldn't have too much time left anyways...* ***Love you always,*** **'Big Sister'**

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16r3ov4/my_sister_told_me_to_do_this_i_dont_know_why_i/

nosleep

Severe-Actuary9562

The Date

It was late at night when this all happened. I was walking home after I had just dropped my girl off at her house after we had just finished our date. I’m a fourteen year old boy, in case you were wondering, living in a small town in the middle of Montana. It was a relatively quiet place. Sure it was peaceful, but it was really boring. Nothing really happened here. But then, out of the blue, this new girl moved to town. Her name was Britney and she was a short, black haired girl with red rosy cheeks, and amazing amber eyes. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I had to talk to her. I was really a shy kid, especially when it came to pretty girls. But when I saw Britney for the first time, it was different for some reason. I wanted to talk to her so badly. One day I worked up the courage to talk to her. My heart was pounding in my chest, but I pushed myself not to back down. I opened up with a small joke, hoping to get her to laugh. I was nervous as hell and it was a really stupid joke. But I guess it was funny to her because she laughed at it, or she was being nice and just trying to humor me. But whatever the case, it worked! After that we started talking more. We were getting along really well for a while and had even started to hangout after school for a couple weeks now. I really liked this girl and I finally worked up the courage to ask her out on a date. I was so excited when she said yes. We settled on going to the movies for our first date that Saturday. I couldn’t stop thinking about it all week. I was so nervous, and so excited. The night of the date came around and everything was going great. We sat down in the theater, eating popcorn and watched the film. She even rested her head on my shoulder. I was in heaven at that moment and couldn’t be happier. After the movie was over, we exited the theater to see that it was late in the night. She said she was going to call her parents to come pick her up, but I offered to walk her home, you know to be a gentleman and to earn a few extra brownie points. I also wanted to spend more time with her. She happily agreed. The movie theater wasn’t that far from her house and neither was mine, so it was an easy walk for the both of us. We continued to talk all the way to her house and I was liking this girl more and more. I honestly couldn’t believe that this amazing girl was interested in me at all. She liked almost everything I was into and was a member of the soccer team. Soccer wasn’t my favorite sport, but I think I have a reason to get into it now. We were now walking up the steps to her front porch and just stood in front of her door. I wanted to say something more but I couldn’t find the words and just stood there awkwardly. She thanked me for a great time and was about to open her door when I finally spoke up. “Would you like to go out again sometime?” I asked nervously. I don’t know why I was so nervous. Maybe it was just because this girl was so amazing and that she wouldn’t want to hang out again. But she smiled at me and giggled. “I would love to.” She then stepped closer to me and kissed me on the lips. I was frozen where I stood. Of all the things to happen, this was the last thing I expected. I must have looked ridiculous because as soon as she pulled away she giggled again. It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. She opened the door and wished me goodnight before disappearing behind it. All I could think about was that kiss. After what felt like forever, I finally walked down the stairs with the biggest grin on my face and began walking home. My house was only a few blocks away, but all I could think about was Britney. The sound of her laughter whenever I made a stupid joke. The look in her amber eyes when I asked her out again. I will never forget that. I was honestly very happy then. But as I turned around the corner I began to notice something; it was very quiet. More quiet than any other night. There were no birds, no crickets, not even the sound of cars driving on the roads. I looked around and noticed that all the houses were dark. Which was odd because it was still relatively early, too early for everyone to be fast asleep. I was startled when the street light I was standing under began to flicker. For as long as I can remember, that never happened before. I tried to ignore it and continued walking towards my house. But it happened again when I walked under another streetlight. Then another. Then another. I tried to tell myself that it was just faulty wiring, or some short circuit. But then, all the lights went out at once. Now it was pitch black. Not even the moon was shining in the sky. My heart was pounding in my chest as I stood alone in complete darkness. I took out my phone to get some light, but when I tried to turn it on it didn’t work. The battery must have died during the movie. My house was only a straight shot from here but I didn’t want to move for fear of tipping and hurting myself or something. Then suddenly, a light shined from behind me. I quickly turned around to see that one of the streetlights from behind me had turned back on. It was about three streetlights away from me, but it was dimly lit. But I was just happy to have some light again. However, when I turned around to head back down the street, I heard something from behind. It was footsteps, but not my footsteps. I turned back around but didn’t see anyone there. Nothing but that streetlight. I kept my eyes towards the light but I still couldn’t see anyone. I was about to turned back around when I finally saw something. A tall, black hooded figure had just stepped into the light. My blood turned to ice when I saw him. His hood was over his head so I couldn’t see his face. I wanted to turn away but I couldn’t move. I wanted to shout but I couldn’t speak. I was petrified. He was just standing there under the light. There was no possible way that he could see me in the darkness, but I could feel his eyes directly on me. Every fiber of my body was telling me to run, to get back home where it’s safe, but I still couldn’t move. All I could do was stare back at him. My heart was beating faster and harder in my ears with every moment that passed. But still, he did not move. Then suddenly, he took off, sprinting towards me. I was finally able to gain control of my body and took off towards my house. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me as I could hear the sound of his feet right behind me. I looked back towards him and saw that he was even closer now. And he looked even taller. I wanted to scream but my voice was still lost. All I could do was run. I didn’t know how far my house was but I didn’t care, I just kept running. I looked back once again. This time he was even closer, and taller. His body was skinny and his arms were long, but I could see nothing else from him. I pushed myself harder and sprinted the other way. My lungs and legs were on fire but I refused to stop. I pushed onward until I finally noticed something. A small candle in the windowsill of my house. My mother always placed a candle there whenever I was out at night so I could find my way home.in case the power ever went out. I couldn’t tell you how much I loved my mother at that moment. I was almost home. I took one final look behind me, and I wished I didn’t. The man was much closer to me, but he wasn’t a man anymore. Whatever it was, it was much taller, taller than any man I had ever seen. Its arms were flailing as it ran towards me. But what I noticed more were its fingers. They were long and came to a point, looking more like claws. I finally found my voice and Let out a loud scream. I was in my front yard now and practically jumped over the stairs and opened the door. Fortunately my mother has a terrible habit of not locking the door behind her when she was out. She said it was in case I ever forgot my keys. I would always tell her about how unsafe it was. But I couldn’t be more grateful in that moment as I pushed the door open and slammed it shut behind me. I locked the door and pressed my back to it. I instinctively flipped the switch on and was welcomed by the warm light of my house. Finally feeling safe, I moved to the window to see if that creature was still out there. But what I saw were the lights from the streets. Even a few houses had their lights on. I looked around my living room, wondering what the hell just happened. Was it all just a hallucination? But from what? Maybe it was all just some sort of prank. A really good one too. I then felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I took it out to see it was a text message from my mother. **Had to step out for a bit. I’ll be** **back soon . There’s some pizza** **in the oven for you. I’ll see you** **when I get home.** **Love you, Mom** I was so confused. My phone wasn’t working a minute ago. But now here I was getting a text message from my mother. I was still out of breath from that whole ordeal. But I was home now and safe. I texted my mother to let her know that I was home now, but I didn't tell her anything else. How could i? I didn't believe it all myself. I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind as I went into the kitchen and grabbed myself a couple slices of pizza. After heating it in the microwave, I went upstairs into my room and turned on the T.V. After what had just happened, I was in the mood for a nice calm movie. I put on my old favorite movie, and ate my pizza in peace. When the movie was almost over, I heard my phone go off again. It was another text message from my mom. **Hey, honey, could you give me a hand** **downstairs?** I turned off the T.V. and headed downstairs. I called my mom’s name but she never answered. I looked around the house but she wasn’t there. That’s weird, I thought to myself. She just texted me a minute ago. Suddenly the lights went out, causing me to scream. It was pitch black now. I tried to find my way around the house. As my eyes began to adjust I noticed a small light. It was my mother’s candle. But it wasn’t in the windowsill, it was in the kitchen. I slowly made my way towards the candle, the memories of tonight’s event flooding my memory. My heart was pounding fast with every step. I jumped when I felt my phone in my hand vibrate. It was another text message from my mom. **Sorry, honey, I’m going to be home a little** **late. Don’t be up too late, dear.** **Love you, Mom.** I stare at my phone in disbelief. I was about to ask her why she told me to come downstairs when she wasn’t even home. But then I noticed something. The text message that she sent me wasn’t there. But that was impossible. I didn’t delete the message. I then received another text message. It was from Britney. **I had a lot of fun tonight. You did a lot better** **than the others. But I am sorry to say that** **this is goodbye**. I was dumbfounded. Did she just break up with me? I sent her a text message asking what she meant. When I hit send, that’s when I noticed it. Just above her message to me was the text from mom, asking me to come down. My body froze when I heard the chime of a phone from behind me. But I dared not look. All I could do was stare at the lit candle in front of me when I felt four long claws slowly grip my shoulder. I turned my head to see wide amber eyes.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ropln/the_date/

nosleep

Firelord515

Tea and Spirits

If I were to tell you I’m a big fan of tea, I’m sure you’d have a very specific image of me. And I wouldn’t blame you, the vast majority of the time if the first thing someone tells you about themselves is tea related, they are going to be a little, too, into tea. Me though, I don’t know, I’m not a “tea guy”, I just prefer the atmosphere of a tea house to a coffee shop. And for reasons I don’t really want to discuss, I spend a lot of my time in places made for quick meals. Rick, by the way. Another city, another sunset behind another small town skyline, another bad taste in my mouth from another job. The monotony only broken up by stops like this. The place has character, especially for Who-Gives-A-Shit Michigan. Tasteful rose paint and dark oak trim makes the tea house look like a rustic cottage. The windows are tinted and the interior, warmly lit. I find myself a booth, and take a seat on an overstuffed leather cushion. The table is immaculate, and the smell of fresh baked goods is thick enough it drowns out the lingering scent of gasoline and smoke from my nostrils. I predict beautiful tea and ugly prices, and when I’m brought a menu, I’m not disappointed. The waitress seemed to linger for a moment, expectant. I assume the place has a small circle of regulars, and pay it no mind. If I was a “Tea guy” I’d bore the hell out of you with a rant about the selection. But thankfully for you folks, I’m not the type to overshare. Bad for business. For those of you in the know though, just a beautiful selection of northern England’s finest, with a few blends I’ve never heard of from Holland. I decide to throw caution to the wind and order one of the Dutch blends with the vowel ridden names, and a watercress sandwich. Coffee is black sludge to keep you going, tea is an experience. The dark, fragrant blend I’m brought brings to mind memories of early childhood mornings. Funny how smell works. I take my time, the brews and baked goods clearing my mind, letting me relax and focus on the next leg of my journey. But as caffeine tends to do, eventually nature called. The bathroom would have been at home in any grandmother’s house. Soft pastel colors, clean white porcelain, and limitless knick knacks, sprays, and magazines. I turn off the polished brass faucet, and turn to leave, I know something is wrong the second my hand touches the knob. No give at all, my suspicions are confirmed as I try to turn it, it doesn’t move a centimeter. I chuckle, I can’t think of the last time a door was much of an issue for me. The knob wasn’t any model I’ve seen before, and the more I look the more I don’t like what I see. “Fuck me” I mumble, looking for a set of hinges. I find none. I slam on the door, screaming, as obvious as the situation is becoming it makes no sense. After fifteen minutes of kicking and screaming that should have alerted every hipster and old lady in the place, there isn’t so much a knock from the other side of the door. “Soundproof, awesome. “ I say, inspecting the lavatory. Air duct, under a decorative cover is grated, the grate welded to a plate in the ceiling. Any object of size is cleverly affixed to the floor with hidden bolts or welds, the small lamps are hardwired into the wall, which is industrial cement under it’s flower printed wallpaper. This place was made to keep people. What, is obvious, why is immediately eating away at me. There are dozens of reasons someone may want me to be in this kind of a situation. But this place wasn’t just made, and even if it was, no one is going to build a covert prison cell, on the off chance I wandered in. That’s comic book shit. They’d send some tweaker with a pawn shop pistol. The prospect that this is just something I stumbled into, doesn’t provide me much comfort. I’ve been around the block a few times, but something like this, it’s well out of my wheelhouse. After a couple of hours I notice the silence, the pure, uncanny lack of noise. The place was nearly full when I came in, tea house or no, I should be hearing the sounds of commerce outside. If you are reading this, you’re likely the kind of person that doesn’t have to ditch your phone much, and probably asking why I wasn’t calling 911. Unfortunately my life has lead me down a different path, and I find myself unfortunately between phones. Thankfully I’ve always been partial to a wristwatch, so I at least can mark the passage of time. I assume I’m being recorded, and spend the first twenty four hours talking to whoever may be listening. Dropping names, making offers, anything I can do to get some kind of response. Nothing. Fear and panic begin to set in on the second day, hunger starts to tear at my stomach, and a sense of powerlessness and isolation sets in. By day three my body is cramped and aching, my sleep coming on a hard cement floor disguised as tile. My brain is fogged from lack of food and proper rest, my mouth tastes of the gritty tap water, and I realise, no one is going to be looking for me. Had this been before a job, I could be guaranteed the client would come searching, looking to take their payment out of my ass. And with the types of folks that employ me, it’d likely have been within hours. But as is, a private person such as myself, has no deus ex machina on it’s way. Day three teaches me something about mints. The stale, clumped bowl sat on a small shelf at the bottom of the over-the-john cabinet. A thin layer of dust coated them, making me assume they were some form of decorative soap, instead of ancient, likely turned pastel mints. I was desperate enough to eat them, figuring any calories would be better than none. Friends of mine in prison could have told me this was a bad idea. Toothpaste ulcers are a known thing. See, mint, especially cheap menthol based flavoring on an empty, let alone malnourished stomach is just about the worst thing you can do. I enter day four puking blood and yellow bile. I wipe my mouth and stop dead on my trip to the low pressure faucet to wash out my mouth. Those mints, the same ones that had burned through the remnants of my stomach lining, undisturbed layer of dust and all, were back. This was impossible, at no point was I asleep, or anywhere more than a foot or two away from the bowl. I close my eyes, shake my head and wash out my mouth, putting this bit of information on the back burner for now. Day 4, as I feel my tartar coated teeth start to ache, I realise I need to make a plan. I start this by going over every inch of the bathroom again, trying to find any flaw, or object I can use to make an escape. I keep my focus thinking of the long conversation I’m going to have with whoever put me in this shitty saw knock off. I peel back every bit of wallpaper I can, I rummage through every cabinet, I claw and pry every surface where it is even a remote possibility. By the time I nearly collapse, my rapidly thinning form soaked in sweat, I’ve found something. But the objects in question just confuse me further. A 1930’s style straight razor, yellowed pearl handle, a magazine from around the same time written in a Cyrillic language I can’t even begin to guess at, a rusted old fountain pen, And a worn leather bound journal. What made these things stand out were small numbers, hidden on each. The razor, had a 1 etched into the back end of the blade, hidden by the handle, the magazine was issue #2, the fountain pen had a year embossed on it’s oxidized surface, the only legible number being 3, and within a swirling, looping pattern burned into the leather of the journal, a 4 could be made out. My mind quickly concocts a scenario, some idiot obsessed with escape rooms maybe, I’m sure there is some obtuse way I’m intended to use these things to get myself out. That being said, I’m not the guy you want to piss off and give a razor to. At first I latch onto this vicious truth as a torch against the dismal fatality of my situation, but then I begin to think about the mints. Someone had to replace them, that means someone has to come in. I turn the blade in my hand, fear and anger turning my brain into a derailed train of revenge and uncertainty. I dump the mints into the toilet and flush, their long since expired colors running the instant they touch the water, blending together and turning it an unhealthy brown. A few hours later I feign sleep, my breathing low and shallow, waiting to hear that first footstep. I’m hurting, no where near full strength, but I almost pity whatever unlucky bastard walks through that door. I don’t hear the click of the doorknob, or the first footstep, but I feel a cold gust of air blow into the bathroom. It’s strangely stale and dry. But I’m up in a flash, malnourished muscles screaming in protest, threatening to pull and cramp. He’s a big guy, 230 at least, short, but with a workers build to him. He’s standing between the door and the bathroom counter, I’d prefer to just run, but there is no way I’m getting out there without going through him. His brown suit is old, and his long greying hair is greasy and matted, , I grin as I grab his shoulder and spin him toward me. I slam the man up against the cement wall, a death grip on his oily feeling suit, the razor is under his chin, but as I see his face I freeze. It's a twisted, sunken, fun house mirror mockery of the human form. A leering, joweled, pig eyed abomination. It stares at me, the hatred in those tiny orbs chills me to the bone. But I’ve been scared before, this guy can be a sideshow freak all he wants, he’s still going to bleed. I swipe the razor in an arc that should have left him clutching his ruined neck on the tile floor, but the blade passes through the man’s body as if it were made of smoke. The laugh, it sounded like a chorus of dying rabbits, like human screams drawn from memory. I’m tossed like a toy into the far wall, I see out the door for the first time in days, and what is out there, it isn’t the tea room, it looks more like a bedroom. The thing looms at the far end of the tiny room, with every passing second shadows deepen, the air seems to take on a weight, and this creature, this ghost like thing seems taller, more imposing. My heart is pumping too fast, I begin to see black spots along the edge of my vision, my nutrient devoid blood doing it’s best to keep me going. It's rictus grin stretches, the spectre retrieves the razor from the floor, looking longingly at it. I try to push past the fear, get to my feet, maybe make a run to the door, but there is a burst of pain in my chest, broken ribs, for sure. The pain and shock makes me fall flat on my face, I try desperately to get up but I can’t manage to do it. I feel grateful as the darkness overtakes my vision knowing whatever this man, or thing, has planned for me, it’s better I don’t see it coming. I wake up to a headache brought on by hunger and dehydration, the bathroom is immaculate again, but the lights are lower, and there is a weight, a palpable sense of wrong in the air. Then I hear it “I can’t… “ it’s a thin voice, female, young, she says more but no matter how hard I listen to the sourceless voice “I can’t” is all I can make out. It repeats at erratic intervals, seeming to come from random points in the room. I drink, but the tepid water sits like a rock in my stomach, and as I watch the thin trickle in the dim light, I notice it’s color is off, slightly rust tinted. I attempt to use the toilet, and find it no longer flushes. My grin laugh seems to echo in the tiny chamber. I have a hard time accepting something I’m sure you guys understood a few minutes ago. I try any way I can to convince myself this is all smoke and mirrors, but the weight of being in the middle of some kind of supernatural cluster fuck smothers me. I search the bathroom again, everything seems to be a little more worn, but everything seems the same, with the exception of the razor being missing. I hear a scratching inside of the sink cabinet, small and quick, like something wants to get out. I gag, hot, acidic bile fills my mouth, as I try and wash it out, I see a small black, almost insect like claw protruding from the faucet. It bends upwards, tapping along the brass, extending itself about six inches before retracting inward. I decide I’d rather taste puke. I know I can’t have much time left, every movement sends bolts of pain through me, and if I don’t get these ribs patched up there is a real chance of a punctured lung. Not to mention the fact that I’m going on nearly a week without food. If this is all random chaos, I’m screwed either way, but I try to press on with the only clue I have. I begin to flip through the magazine, trying to find any scrap of text I can read, I’d done this a dozen times already the day before, but I need something to keep my mind off the horrors that seem to be waiting just beyond every crevice and shadow in this place. Then I see it, something that wasn’t there yesterday, an article in plain english ‘ Poltergeist and sacrifice’ by a woman named Laura Set. “… Poltergeist activity is often misconstrued as being caused by a particularly vengeful or evil spirit. While there are some similarities to a haunting, Poltergeist activity has a differing source, and therefore a different method of appeasement. Most often a Poltergeist manifestation is caused, not by an individual spirit, but by the combined spiritual weight of an event. A true case of the total being greater than the sum of it’s parts. The negative energy, individual souls, and history of the location, through as of yet unknown means, combine to create something more akin to a minor God than a powerful spirit. And as such, traditional methods of removal such as those offered by various religious and mystic organizations are ineffective. The only true way to keep manifestation at bay, is via a complicated form of sacrifice, often recreating key parts of the event that triggered the manifestation. Sacrifices can run the gamut from trivial to lethal, but as seen, repercussions of an unchecked manifestation will seldom not be worth the cost… ” There was more to the article, but as I finished it, the lights began to flicker and dim, and the magazine began to crumble in my hands. “I can’t eat… “ I hear the voice clearer now, I still can’t make out all of what she is saying, but she sounds, closer. The room is no longer silent, the scratching and tapping from the sink is more rapid, more purposeful, I can hear faint music outside of the room, an old phonograph I think. The hellish orange strobe of the lights turns shadows into looming creatures. I can’t tell what’s starvation induced hallucination and what’s some kind of force I’ll never understand. I’m rattled, and unhinged, I scream at the girl to shut up, but of course she doesn’t listen. I think about praying, but me and the guy upstairs haven’t been on good terms in a long time. I see movement on the ceiling, I feel the humidity rise , and get the sense of something unstoppable starting to gain steam. My mind wants to think of nothing but the things in the shadows, I feel something thin and rubbery caress my cheek in a moment of darkness and force myself to think about the pen. In a eureka moment I try to jam the nib into my arm, but it passes through, mockingly. But in the flashes of orange light, I see something. The corner of the counter is cracked and rotten now, caked with rust colored half congealed blood. Jagged splinters stick out like grasping fingers and I laugh a sick chortle as I realise what I have to do. I slam my forearm into the serrated corner, screaming in pain, the sound an echo of my fraying sanity. The wood and steel tear a massive piece out of me, my starvation thinned flesh splitting like an overripe pear. And for a moment, I see it. Just a flash. A trapped little girl, an evil old man. Long before they became gears in this horror producing machine. When I snap out of it, the room is dark, the sounds of formless things all around me, for a brief second or two one of the lights produces a dim glow before going out. My left hand isn’t working, must have hit a tendon or nerve, I uncap the pen with my teeth, holding it under the torn limb. The blood seems to give the pen weight well beyond its few millilitres. “I can’t eat, I need… “ the girl says, her voice seems right next to me now. In another dim flash of a dying blub I see a twisted mass of clicking tendrils scraping my blood and flesh, greedily from the counter. I hear laughter, real, and followed with hot, reeking breath, I turn to see a leering, faceless grin, illuminated and formed out of the wall. The room feels more claustrophobic by the second, the things I can see in the sparse, dull, orange flashes of light seem to focus on me. Tendrils, like heavy smoke begin to wind around my leg, a hand, massive and not quite human grasps my shoulder, I feel swarmed by things I can neither fathom nor see. I steady my breathing, and wait, I know I’ll have to write something, but what? The dull orange glow, like a dying candle gives the barest of light. I flip through the journal, seeing nothing but blank pages. I clench the pen in my teeth hard enough to crack one of my molars. The glow dies, and my heart sinks, but as I flip a page, I feel something. Some indent. The hand pushes down on my shoulder as the tendrils begin pulling me toward the sink. I have no strength to fight, it’s taking everything in me to keep conscious. I see the cavern of pitch black I’m being dragged toward as the light pulses, the glow barely able to pierce the gloom. This place has turned into a senseless hellscape, but I see it. I can trace the outline with my hand, as if someone has pressed too hard with a pen, see the indented words and begin to trace over them with the pen. “I’m sorry” I have to roll over my damaged arm, tearing out a page and slipping it under the door. Something inside the limb snaps and I feel a deep pain shoot up to my elbow. For a moment, I’m sure I guessed wrong, my foot inches from the onyx fanged Maw the sink cabinet has became. But then then din of the hellscape switches off, I no longer feel the unholy press of whatever unnatural things were slipping from the cracks in reality. I’m standing in a void, still, calm as death. In every direction but one, is nothing but endless nothing. The bathroom mirror floats, fixed in space, I feel myself drawn to it, in awe of it. I see the girl for the second time, and I am overwhelmed with sadness. She’s a flickering, pale thing, her body is broken, the victim of the kind of violence the worst person I know wouldn’t even think about. “ I can’t eat, I need… “ I hear, the voice is soft this time, almost sweet. Of all the wounds on the girl, the one that stands out the most is her destroyed wreck of a mouth. I feel mad for her, despite my situation. I hear her crying now, and the situation starts to come together. The starvation, the entrapment, the torture, they fit together like the combination to a safe. I see the forms of dozens of people to either side of her as she closes the distance. She’s right in front of me now. When I finally hear her clearly, it sounds, different. Like I’m hearing a recording of an event. “I can’t eat, I need teeth. “ I hear as her dead eyes hold me in a trance. She raises one hand, the cold, dead flesh gently resting on my cheek. It passes through the cheek harmlessly, but as it makes contact with my teeth I feel the worst pain I have experienced. A pain so severe, as to overshadow the mind fuck itself. A pain I wake up most nights in a cold sweat about to this day. She scoops them out like gutting a pumpkin, I can’t beg, or pull away, I can’t even scream, even as each inch of movement has me internally begging for death. There isn’t any blood, in fact, if I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t even know I ever had teeth. But as the apparition stages at them, greedily, that’s cold comfort. The girl walks away, and after a few paces, reality comes crashing back down around me. I’m on my side, my arm has stopped bleeding, but the flesh looks like melted way, fused and bubbled. As the door opens, I have enough strength to stand, but I’m not sure how long it’ll last. There’s a half dozen people outside of the door, in front of me is a well kept man in his 50’s, in what looks to be his Sunday best. “Thank you. “ he says, handing me a comically small towel, for the amount of filth and blood I’m covered in. I can do nothing more than glare at the group as I leave, holding onto the wall for support. I got out of that town and went dark for a while, mostly getting used to the lifestyle changes a week or so of malnutrition and torture caused. But that brings me to why I decided to, pun intended, spill the tea here. I’ve got a question. Do I keep myself hidden? Take this as a win, and never look back? Or, do I maybe try and get a little, non divine retribution? Don’t know how possible that would be, but I guess that’s where you all come in. Let me know what you think.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16rlknd/tea_and_spirits/

nosleep

HughEhhoule

The late night encounter

So this takes back to the spring of 2017 or 2018, I never really slept as much back then, I always had full on energy all the time. For example I will stay up untill midnight and fall asleep till I wake up out of no where at 3 in the morning. This took place with the same scenario where I went to bed around 11PM and fell sleep watching some youtube videos. I woke and it was around 2 AM, I wanted to use the bathroom and went to reach my glasses. Then I was walking into the bathroom and I froze completely in my tracks. It felt like someone was infront of me, without knowing there was something there, And I saw it, this figure was pure pure black with horns and white eyes, I didnt make out a mouth at all. The auora around this figure was black spluring all over like it was black paint and black colored fire spreading all over it. It just kept staring at me, I was kind of in this daze walking slowly towards it, but then it just flew a few inches upward and fanished like dust. Then I snapped out of it and felt really tired and light headed after whatever it was left my room. I was so tired, after what happened I just blacked out on my bed, therfore I woke the next morning with the worst ever headache and swirling stomach, but this went away after an hour or two. Thanks for reading my true encounter.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/tajqrs/the_late_night_encounter/

TrueScaryStories

Cola-silz6

Exploring an Abandoned House

One day, me and my friend wanted to go exploring around the surrounding parts of my neighborhood. We lived in a suburban town in Western Pennsylvania and nothing really bad happens around here. I was about 16 at the time of this event and remember it vividly. So, on this day, we heard about an abandoned house right across the highway that has been deserted for years. Being young and adventurous at the time, my friend and I were excited to check out this place. We rode our bikes to where the house was located. The house was semi-covered by overgrown trees and vines and the house was an eerie gray color. We parked our bikes behind the house to where the backyard was so we wouldn’t be seen by any neighbors (this house was surrounded by 4 other houses that were being lived in). The back door was cracked open already so we didn’t have to break anything open to get inside. Right as we walk through the back door, we were welcomed to the kitchen which was destroyed by water damage and mold. Luckily, we brought masks and gloves to protect us from the smell and everything we touch in this home. Miscellaneous items were scattered everywhere across the floor and down the hall which leads to the front door. This house is a two story house with an unfinished basement and looks like it was built in the mid-1900’s. One thing I noticed when walking through the first floor was that lots of the furniture and decor were still present in the house, which was odd. It seems like whoever lived here has completely left everything the way it used to be other than probably a few things because the interior of the house was still decently bare. We found an old record player, a few old video game consoles with those massive joysticks you use, and lots of old books. These were the items we found just scattered across the first floor hallway. We haven’t even went upstairs yet. There was a narrow wood staircase that leads up to the second floor. When walking up it, the silence was broken by the overwhelming sound of the creaking of the stairs. At the top, there are two rooms on either side of the stairs, each almost identical and symmetrical to each other. My friend and I decide to enter the left room first to see what’s inside. The first thing I see when entering was a massive gloss black piano in the middle of the floor. I was not sure why there was a piano upstairs and not on the first floor but it was cool, but ominous to see this. The thick carpet the piano sat on was a dark red color. Everything in this room was scattered across the floor as well. Most of the items were kids toys and magazines so I assumed that a whole family used to live here. Also, the one window that faces the backyard where we left our bikes was open when we walked in. This was odd but not surprising. The entire time here I just had a gut feeling that we weren’t alone, even though we have at least glanced into every room and this house has been for sale since 2006 (it was 2017 at the time). This is where things escalated almost immediately. My friend was searching through the bookshelves across the room while I was looking at the piano. I wanted to lighten things up, since we both felt slightly uneasy being here due to the state of the house it was in, so I wanted to play a tune on the piano. I play a few notes to some random song that I don’t remember, but I was interrupted by a loud crash coming from downstairs. It sounded like something from the basement, which the staircase to it was right below the staircase to the second floor, if you can picture what I mean by that. We both stood silently looking at each other in disbelief until moments after, we hear loud stomping running down the hallway on the first floor coming towards the second floor staircase. Whatever this was, sounded like it had big boots on and the whole house shook after each foot smashed into the floor as it ran through the hallway. There were no voices or screaming coming from whatever this was. It was just running after us. We hear it continue to run at full speed through the house and up the creaky stairs. My friend and I were freaking out and had to make a decision fast. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t stopping at all on its way up to us. We remembered that the window next to us was open so our only solution to getting out safely was to jump out the window. From the moment I started playing the piano to when we jumped out the window after hearing someone chasing us happened within mere seconds. Luckily, our bikes were right below where we jumped out and all I could think about was getting out and across the highway as fast as possible. I got slightly hurt after jumping out the second story window but my adrenaline was through the roof and wasn’t thinking about it in that moment. My friend was right behind me the whole time thankfully and we both got on our bikes and left. I was shook to tears the whole ride back home. To this day, I still have no idea what was in this house that chased us. We never heard the back or front door open and everything in this house creaks, so we would’ve heard it. This was in the house the entire time we were there and I don’t know how we didn’t see anything. I have a great feeling that this wasn’t human, but who knows. I will never forget this day ever. Edit: Forgot to mention that I went back years later and found a barn way back in the woods. Seeing a barn in the middle of the woods would freak anybody out a little. Luckily, I didn’t experience any activity this time. I only went in the barn because the house ended getting boarded up and I’m concerned why that happened and who did it. The barn had a massive turkey vulture nest under the stairwell and it was really freaky. They circle the house and barn from above constantly and I got real close to some of them. Below are a couple images of the house and barn. Haven’t actually taken photos really of the house but I found one where it’s in the background. https://i.imgur.com/6hVOook.jpg https://i.imgur.com/kpm12IQ.jpg

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/taf631/exploring_an_abandoned_house/

TrueScaryStories

Intelligent_Habit_32

telephone

This probably isn't that scary but its pretty freaky. This happened a few years ago. I had this one fake telephone that when you pick the phone up it says a random line and then stops and it is only activated when you pick up the phone. One night I woke up to the phone going of a speaking I was a little freaked out but I thought maybe it was the wind because I had the window open. I took the batteries out of the phone and went back to bed. A few hours later I heard the phone going off again and this time I felt a cold shiver going down my spin cause there was no way that phone could off been speaking because it couldn't without the batteries. I got up and picked up the phone and put it in the bin I have never seen the phone since but I still get scared thinking about it.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/tajbii/telephone/

TrueScaryStories

Current-Tank6948

My true story

The True Story of the Night Marcher’s This story is 100% true, whether you believe me or not is up to you. When I replay these events in my head I often wonder if it’s true or not. I don’t know where to begin with this story, it all just seems too surreal for me and my 3 friends. Since this incident happened 4 years ago no one has really spoken about it since in fact what happened on the island of Hawaii actually is the once incident that almost broke our friendship. My name is Tom, to give you a better visual I’m about 5’11 and 160 pounds I’m 25 years old and I love the outdoors. In fact I loved the outdoors so much that I started a club in high school called the Outdoor Grizzly’s. It was a very small group of us who would set up different hiking trips to go on, we have hiked all the way to the beautiful Sleeping Giant state park trails of Connecticut all the way to the Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park in California which has fantastic 80 foot waterfall with a lavish scenery. In this group of my fellow friends are my best friend since Middle School named Jake, my good friend I met freshman year of high school Jennifer, and lastly but not least Jake’s girlfriend since high school Christine. We were inseparable and went on all of our hiking trips together in high school. We held fund raisers with permission from the school, I believe the school seen how much we loved nature so much that we would make a career out of it so they gladly allowed us to take it a step further with permission from our parents of course. We were all in shape for the most part which is part of the reason why we also loved doing what we did. It freed our minds, gave us clarity, took away our anxiety. Often you hear or have experienced yourself being a teenager riddled with anxiety and depression walking an uphill of uncertainty. But that wasn’t us! We even had a few of our teachers going hiking locally and they have told us how inspired they were and how it helped them with their anxiety and stress as well. After we graduated from high school things sort of died down with the club. We all kept in touch but as what happens to most people after high school, life happens. The only one I really kept in touch with was obviously my best friend Jake. He was still with Christine but her and I barely spoke because hiking wasn’t just in our blood anymore. Jennifer did her own thing and was seeing this college jock named Robert so we with the expedition of Jake all really just drifted. A few years had passed and.. One evening in May I decided it was nice enough to throw a bonfire. Just a few friends Christine didn’t really want to just hang around people she didn’t know so she bought up the idea to invite Jennifer. Through the power of social media Jennifer was actually very happy. She talked about how life got in the way and her and Robert broke up so the bonfire is just what she needed so she can play catch up with us all just like old times. She told me her number was still the same and to call her to confirm. That went easier than I thought, suddenly I was filled with happiness and excitement. Just like old times.. the laughter, the jokes, this was something I wish I had done sooner. We had the bonfire, it went off without a hitch. It was approximately around 1:30am. It was just us after everyone else left, Myself, Jake, Jennifer, and Christine. The cool spring breeze embraced my neck and the fire kissed my nose leaving me with goosebumps. Jake had mentioned how peaceful and Nostalgic this was as he downed the tail end of his beer. The energy around our group was just so nice. And Jennifer mentioned how I once slipped on a wet rock trying to run away from an usual bug which was named the “bug incident” We all laughed and Jake said if only we can relive those days and go back? Christine looked at Jennifer and said what if we can relive those days but we don’t have to go back to relive them? Christine jolted up from her relaxed state and they both gave each other this look like they telepathically knew what they were talking about and they both squealed Jake and I smirked because we knew what was coming next. I don’t want to bore you with the details more than what I already have. we picked a place exotic, different, we all voted on Hawaii. We always wanted to go there but could never raise that much money to go given that it was so expensive for a bunch of high schoolers at the time. So we formed a plan, Jake’s aunt was a flight attendant, I had a rainy day fun with a generous amount of money and Jennifer saved money for a trip she was going to take on her own and Christine had a decent YouTube following for make up so she was sure she can crowdfund. After 3 weeks we combined our finances and we were able to afford this trip. And we were going to stay around the Honolulu area because there was a very well known hiking place there with a beautiful waterfall. We arrived at our destination and boy were we excited, we decided we would be tourist the first 3 days and the last 3 days we would spend hiking around the area and we would use the 7th day for getting ready to leave. We wanted to take it a step further we wanted to camp out in the area. We have done it before so we know what to do and we were very well versed in camping and hiking so we had experience we felt like we could take this on. We made our way deeper and deeper into the forest. We saw people along the way. Tourist we spoke to, a few friendly locals, then we began to notice how much more isolated it became. Christine had said we seem far away and we didn’t have any signal on our phones. She bought a compass and map so she said we should just find a place around the area we were in. We all agreed. We found a beautiful place, it was like it was waiting for us. It was on a cliff side looking over almost the entire island! We didn’t realize how far up we hiked. And it was relatively safe. There was a fence made of bamboo so you really couldn’t fall unless you purposely threw yourself over the fence but even then there was a big enough rock protruding out so you couldn’t fall and die basically. It was really the most magnificent view I’ve ever seen. We set up the one tent we had and set up some lanterns around and made a final fire to keep away the insects. Jennifer decided to go with Christine to explore around while Jake and I were setting up. Christine yelled “Hey!” we heard her clearing some bush. She said “stairs?” I thought she was just imagining it and she said no guys come on look. They looked pretty worn. But they led to that piece of rock on the bottom. To put it in a better perspective for you the reader picture Pride Rock from the Lion king we were standing on the flat piece and then imagine another flat piece on the bottom of that with stairs that wrapped around to get to the bottom. Instead of throwing yourself over the bamboo fence. (Kidding) Jennifer was against going down the worn steps because she was afraid someone might get hurt. But we had to know where these stairs led to, what if it was treasure? An artifact? Jake and I decided to go and the girls can stay. The stairs in the beginning were made of stone and were worn but once we got to the middle of the steps it wasn’t as bad. We finally got down and saw it was the piece of rock which we were standing on like on the upper level minus the forest. It was like a cave. We made our way into the cave and we could hear our footsteps crushing broken coconut shells and sand grit. Jake took his flashlight and lit up the inside. We were amazed, there seemed to be drawings on the walls and what looked like a burial site? It looked disturbed but the drawings are what had us intrigued. I lit my flashlight and pointed it to the wall we were able to make out bodies and very tiny heads. The walls looked untouched, we carefully swept the debris from the wall. We needed more light to understand the carvings we called the girls and reluctantly they came. We asked them to light their flashlight and point it to the wall. We all did at the same time and they were just as amazed. We took photos and we said at the end of our trip we will let the information desk know of this place maybe we discovered something no one has ever. Christine said “Wait a minute it seems like these carvings tell a sequence of events from right to left. As we looked at these carvings we just saw what looked like a figure pushing someone off a ledge. We immediately got the chills and decided to head back up. Jake broke the silence and said remember this was thousands of years ago. It was apart of history. Jennifer replied yea but it’s just still creepy. We all agreed if it were to rain we would seek refuge in the cave. We decided to go look around not to far from the camp site but just explore. We were all inspired since we stumbled across that carving on the wall maybe we can find something else. We were about 15 minutes into our walk when we realized the sun was beginning to set. Christine bought up the fact we should probably head back we don’t want to get caught out here in the dark. It would make things harder for us. We all decided to head back. As we were heading back we heard rustling and sticks breaking. Christine grabbed Jake and Jennifer locked her arm with mine. Jake looked at me in bewilderment and said a animal? I said No, whatever it is has a heavy foot. Jake had a military grade knife and had his hand on it. Jennifer had her mace. The branches were sounding louder and louder we froze. We braced ourselves on the defensive just in case. Suddenly the big leaves parted and a man who looked like a native Hawaiian with a straw hat and one of those touristy looking Hawaiian shirts emerged from the bushes. He said in a stern voice Why are you in these parts? We explained we are hikers from the mainland and we have a campsite not to far from here on a rock. We also mentioned the strange markings we saw on the cave walls. His eyes suddenly widened and his eyes felt like they Pierced our souls. He said I’m going to give you advice from one human being to another. We just stood wide eyed with nothing to say listening intently waiting for what he would tell us. He said you should not sleep there, you should pack your things and leave. Many bad things happened in this area for a millennia since the golden age has been broken. A curse has been cast on this sacred land and it would be foolish for you to stay here. Jennifer said with a knot in her throat “Why?” The man said “The Night-marchers” he then said Pō approaches. Get somewhere safe. And whatever you do don’t look them in the eye And he went off. We all looked at one another Jake said “Did we really come all this way to leave?” We decided it’s only going to be one night and dusk is approaching as soon as the morning comes we’ll pack and leave. We just won’t touch anything. So we made our way back to the campsite. When we finally got back Jennifer remembered that she bought a pot and 2 cans of clam chowder with pita bread. We lit the fire put the pot over the fire and heat our food up and enjoyed a decent dinner and it was one of the best nights we had since our high school days hiking. Christine looked at her watch and noticed it was 12:45am. I’ll never forget that time because it was the night from hell. We decided to get ourselves ready to sleep two people can fit in one tent and since it was so beautiful outside and Jennifer and I admired the stars we decided to lay out and fall asleep under the stars. I remember thinking to myself, I only see skies like this on wallpaper for my computer it was just so magical. I dozed off. I remember waking up to use the bathroom, there was really no bathroom so I decided to go into the woods. I remember it was silent no animals making noises, no insects, nothing it was eerily quiet out. It was like time stopped. I quietly walked behind the tent into some bushes to release. Suddenly I heard a horn? I’m not sure what it was but it sounded like a horn. I just passed it off as me hallucinating and headed back to sleep. Suddenly as I was drifting back off I heard a what sounded like a drum. My finger tapped the ground the each beat of the drum. It began to get louder and louder. Jake woke up and peeked outside the tent and looked at me and said “How do you have service up here to watch a movie turn it down man.” I said Jake that’s not me, now if you knew Jake when he would be very serious with me he would call me by my full name Thomas. He said “Thomas stop joking and go to bed you know we have to get up early to leave.” He rubbed his eye looking at his Apple Watch. Suddenly a horn noise went off again and it was even louder. Jennifer sat up and said okay the prank isn’t funny not cool. Suddenly it sounded louder and the drum was getting closer and closer *DUM* *DUM* DUM* …. Christine was fast asleep in the tent. Suddenly when we thought we were cornered it went silent. All you could hear was out heartbeats. We were frozen looking at one another and I gave Jake the look like we made a plan and we nodded to one another like we knew what to do. Jake slowly went back in the tent and you can hear him whisper “Christine” “Christine”…. Follows by a soft yea? Is it time to get up? I looked at Jennifer and she was what seemed like in a daze I motioned to her to grab her bag but she wasn’t moving? She looked like she was moving her mouth and nothing was coming out I broke out of my fright and went up to her and said what’s wrong?! We have to go! She lifted her shaking arm and her half pointed behind me I grabbed her arm and said what?! In a angry whisper, she said behind…. My breath shook and I slowly turned behind me I can hear Jake getting things together in the tent and as I turned around this was the part that scared me to the core. I my fight or flight kicked in and I barely remember anything else. I saw a tall man at least 6 feet tall with a machete but that’s not what scared me, it was his head. It was very small, he had what looked like a coconut shell for armor with eyes cut out for holes and a small hole for the mouth his body looked normal but his head was as big as a coconut! Jennifer screamed Christine and Jake came out and froze in fear! I immediately pushed Jennifer away from looking at this monster… this thing she snapped out and got up and grabbed me and ran. Jake and Christine followed we didn’t know where we were going which direction we just ran. We left everything we heard footsteps branches breaking like if there were like 10 of them following just cutting the branches coming down like nothing. I don’t know how we got through the forest but Christine noticed a strong river of water and we figured we could lose them if we crossed we all jumped in and we started making our way through but it just kept getting deeper and before we knew the river overpowered us and carried us I looked back and I saw 5 of those beings with various weapons in their hands they stopped following us. They just stared at us. I kept looking and I will never forget seeing these people? I don’t know. Beings with average height but small heads. I passed out. I woke up with the sun in my face and Christine hitting my face. She had a gash on her head Jake and the rest of us all had scratches and bruising all over our bodies. Before we could even talk we heard a helicopter over us. They came and airlifted all of us to the island nursing triage to get checked out. I asked the guy how did you find us? He said that individuals Apple Watch sent us coordinates at 4:55am we have been looking for you for 4 hours. Because it wasn’t easy getting to where we were. Christine just cried and Jennifer hugged her. Jake and I looked at one another. The guy added that we shouldn’t have been there and we were way off the path. The local authorities came to speak to us and ask us what happened and I told them everything from the drawings to the strange men with small heads. He went on to explain that’s just folklore. But people get so frightened of the Night-marchers that they end their life because their minds can’t take what they see. They have only had 2 instances of documented suicides one was a 19 year old girl who jumped off the rock cliff we were camping at and the other person they called off the search because authorities refuse to search when night approaches. The area was closed off to the public when they found 4 headless bodies in the 1980’s. And the perpetrator was never found. He continued we must’ve been way off the trail to be by that rock area because it’s completely closed off. They seemed puzzled how we even got there to begin with. As I had chills run down my spine I wondered…. Did we actually go into the river to Escape or did we try to end our lives? And what was under that coconut shell? Was there even a head at all? But how could they breathe? Or see? I asked the officer taking our statement, do the night-marchers have heads? He said, since you’re alive to tell the tale they didn’t remove their coconut shell. But had you died and jumped off the cliff you like the young girl did would have known that answer for yourself. We decided to take a very long break from hiking or camping. Instead we just meet up at a bar. No one really talks about it. But I don’t want to wonder what a head the size of a coconut looks like.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/ta2z8m/my_true_story/

TrueScaryStories

Marchello89

The scariest phone call I have ever received

To give a little context I was 15 at the time and was down at a family friends house, at the time I had a long distance relationship with a girl from Georgia which will come into play later. So at the time it was dark out and I was just hanging out in the living room with there younger boys playing mortal combat when I get a call from Atlanta, I normally don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t recognize because they always seem to be scams and I had just gotten this number a year before that and would get calls like them all the time but thinking it was her I answered it. “Hello?” I said with nothing coming from the other end but what sounded like loud breathing, I took the phone off my ear thinking something was off with my phone, there was a lot of background noise from my parents conversations and at the time one of the moms were talking and right then I hear “glad to hear that bitch is still with you I’m on my way” and hangs up. I literally said “what the fuck” out loud. I shrugged it off and thought “eh not my problem” I texted my gf and said was that one of your friends? She had no idea what I was talking about, and right then, I get a text from the number it reads “I’m glad to hear that nasty ass whore in the background” and then I follow up with “on my way” I said “bro I think you got the wrong number” honestly just thinking it was my gf playing a trick on me he said “n***** have you lost your mind, say that when we pull up, fuck you im done talking” I said “dude it says your in Atlanta I’m 24 hours away from there” which is the truth. I do love that far away he just said “plan your escape route now.” At this point in time I’m thinking this guy must have a girlfriend that is screwing around with whoever this number used to belong too and I just wanted him to leave me alone because I’m not the guy. So I was trying to convince him I’m not the guy I said “ you got the wrong guy I’m telling you, how’d you even get my number?” He said (or this is how I took it his grammar was not very good) “ trailers take mins to burn down after being fully in flames old houses take 8” then followed by a “bitch shut the fuck up” responding to my message I said “ I don’t live in a trailer” he said “ I’m done talking I’m on the way bitch” now this was the stupid part on my end. but I just wanted him to live me alone and the chances of this guy coming all the way out to where I lived were slim, plus we live in a very rural area and would know instantly if there was a car by our house we didn’t recognize. I responded with “I’m 15 dude” he just put a “🤣” i then said “you literally have the wrong guy” this was the part that made my stomach sink and still does to this day I honestly felt like I was gonna throw up the first time I read it. He said “she’s dead” and then sent a picture. The picture was of what looked like a woman’s feet covered in tattoos and white nail polish in a very unnatural position. This was enough for me to lose it and tell this dude to leave me alone so I said “NAH DUDE YOU GOT THE WRONG GUY” he said “IP address says different so shut up pussy” followed by “see you shortly” my heart sank into my chest thinking this guy would actually be crazy enough to pull my IP after possibly murdering a woman. I had enough I said “ I’m blocking your number I don’t know how you got it but you got the wrong number” and being a dumb 15 year old tried to play it off cool so this guy wouldn’t actually come to my house the rest of my text read “I don’t got no bitches or anything whoever you are after it ain’t me” I immediately blocked the number and texted my friends about it. I thought about calling the police but I didn’t think they could really do anything with what little information I had and plus I didn’t want to tell my parents because I made the mistake of telling the guy my age. To this day I still don’t know if it was real or not and why it was my number he contacted it doesn’t even look close to the same area code he was in. I had completely forgotten about this story. it was like I put up a mental block in my brain just trying to forget about it, until I was listening to a true text message horror story on YouTube with my friend (shoutout to Mr nightmare) and wanted to share my story I would put the screenshots but this subreddit won’t let me post photos

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t8gfqg/the_scariest_phone_call_i_have_ever_received/

TrueScaryStories

Spady59

The scariest moment of my life

So this happened to me and my little brother (we'll name him Dylan for confidentiality purposes) when we lived together a few years back. I was at 25 year old male and my little brother was 19,we were relaxing playing some halo 3 on the xbox,smoking a bowl just being brothers hanging our usual daily day's off from work. It was a Saturday night in the mid summer of 2009. We lived in a quiet neighborhood, neighbors were just far enough apart you had privacy and they never got into your business. But we all knew each other as our parents lived in the house for years and it was our childhood home. When my parents retired they moved off and left the house to us so we never had to worry about a roof over our head. Now our house is at the end of the cul-de-sac with a garage door to the right and our front door is up 4 steps to the left of the window between our garage door but from our kitchen you can see straight out when the curtains are open. This particular night however would grow to haunt me and my brother to this day,after a few hardcore hours of gaming it's like 3 in the morning my brother would need to get up a stretch his legs and relax his hands,he went down stairs to grab some water and a snack,when suddenly Dylan comes running up the stairs and locks the door freaking the total hell out,I look at him confused as fuck barking "Bro wtf is wrong?", with a pail ghost white face he looks at me and says "There is a guy on the forch with his hands cuffed to the window smiling from ear to ear." Then we hear five knocks at the door,we froze in our tracks backing slowly away from the door,I get under my bed and grab the machete and bat I keep under my bed in case I ever needed to defend myself (I watch to many zombie movies),I give the bat to Dylan as he's taller than me and has longer arms be more beneficial to him. We tip toe back to the bedroom door and unlock it,we crack the door open just enough to see out of, then suddenly the man knocks over and over and over before you know it he had knocked at least thrifty times and then it just stopped,I told Dylan to grab my cell phone and dial 911,he did and dispatch sent officers our way immediately. While on the phone the man went around the back of our house because we heard screaming coming from the back yard,the man was there, just looking at the bedroom window with that creepy ass smile,we stayed just out of the line of sight peaking from the corners, suddenly the man takes off in full on sprint and threw himself into our back door,we holler "Oh shit he's trying to break in our back door!" to the dispatch officer. She tell units to step it up as he's trying to make entry. We hear the sirens closing in faster and faster as the man continues to bash himself into our door,on the third bash we hear the door crash open,we stay as quiet as possible listening to things in the kitchen being smashed to hell and the man yelling "Come out,come out, wherever you are!" I whisper to dispatch that he's downstairs in the kitchen and she tells officers he's made entry and one unit said he was close. We ready our bat and machete as we hear foot steps creaking up the stairs,then blue lights can be seen illuminating the house,as we hear "police come out with your hands up,make your presence known!" The man books it down the stairs and gets tackled by officer and handcuffed after a bit of a struggle. We came out when the officer's cleared the house and made sure it was safe. The man was high on meth just looking to rob us to get another quick fix,we're so thankful for officer arrived when he did,we thanked until the moment he left. He still came by from time to time to check on us and even played video games with us a few times. I still get nightmares of that creepy ass smile,and to whomever you are creepy smiley man. I hope me never meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t7t35k/the_scariest_moment_of_my_life/

TrueScaryStories

HumbledNeji47282

Story from space camp

no it isn't aliens a time ago I was at the nasa space camp in Alabama, and one night I woke up in the bunks at like 3 am for no reason. everyone else is asleep. I turn around and 2 bunks away there is a counselor standing there. except hes not a counselor. hes got a green shirt, which counselors dont, and hes not moving at all, like not even swaying or anything, just as still as a wall. and most importantly, he has no face. is tired for like 30 minutes not turning away out of fear, then slowly try to to back to bed. eventually he disappears. never moved. must've been something in that camp food

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t71yfd/story_from_space_camp/

TrueScaryStories

Jettpack_of_the_Dead

True Paranormal experience

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t70fej/true_paranormal_experience/

TrueScaryStories

creepy_short_thing

We didn't leave a voicemail

Around the age of 15, my cousin, "A" (16), a couple friends, and I had recently gotten into visiting haunted places. There was a very well known cemetery around where I lived, probably about 30 miles away. It is dusk when had left the house, so that we could arrive at the location at night but not so late that our parents would be worried about our well being. It's important to note that this cemetery was majority, if not all, soldiers from the civil war. We travel down a small dirt road blasting music, talking about all of the things we are going to do when we leave our small town. We finally make it to the graveyard with no crazy stuff happening (we weren't expecting anything to happen either). We were supposed to let our parents know that we made it safely; however, there is absolutely no phone service. When we parked, my cousin, "A", and our 2 friends who are sisters, "E" and "L", and a few years older than us, are discussing who is going to get out first. "L" and I decide that we are staying in the car, because we wanted to, jokingly, use them as Guinea pigs. While we sit in the car, my cousin and "E" walk casually into the graveyard. "L" and I are joking around, saying that we will stick together and survive, but that's when things started to get real. *BOOM*....*BOOM*.... the sound of bass coming from no where. "L" asks if I hear it too, but of course, I am the type of person to rule every scenario out before I resort to something being "supernatural". I tell "L" that it is probably just a car on the road. "L" then reminds me that we are in the middle of the woods in a very low populated town with no one else around. We hear it again, almost in perfectly timed intervals. She asks me, "This is a civil war cemetery, right?" That is when we realized that maybe it was some type of drum. I became startled. I called for "A" and "E" to please come back to the car. They come back, and we explain what we heard. They believed us, but before we left, they wanted to take pictures. Again, this is in the complete darkness, with nothing but our car headlights on for vision. We take pictures in front of the car, and then go through the phone to make sure we had one that was up to par. In the pictures were shining balls of lights, so much so that it looks like it is snowing. Now, we are in a huge rush to get out of there. "A" and "E" jump in the car, and we drive away as quickly as possible, discussing possibilities for the camera on the phone to show up "balls of light". We are reviewing the pictures, and we then recieve a voicemail. "It is definitely one of our parents", I think to myself. We did not have service to call them when we arrived, and now they are very worried. I honestly wish it was one of our parents yelling at us telling us that we were grounded or that "they were so worried", but what had followed was so much worse. We could barely hear anything, but we hooked it to the aux and turned the volume up. It was us. Talking. Our entire conversation from before we were going to take the pictures to when we drove away. We still aren't sure what exactly caused any of these things, but we never went to another graveyard after that.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t5mdbo/we_didnt_leave_a_voicemail/

TrueScaryStories

ChemEDrew

PNW Evil Cult Run-In

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t5d05n/pnw_evil_cult_runin/

TrueScaryStories

Ok-Requirement4143

The Hollow Man

This happened to me about 10 years ago when I was 14. It was a warm summer night in 2012, I (14f at the time) was walking around the city with my friends R (16m) and his older cousin J (24m). We had all been neighbors for about 4 years now and our families knew eachother so it was quite normal for us to all be hanging out together despite the age gaps. During our walk, we decided to take a shortcut through the cemetery. It was after hours and im pretty sure it was illegal for us to be in there at that time but we weren't doing anything other than cutting through which we would often do during the day as well. As we were walking down the path, we saw headlights turning into the cemetery and the boys, of course, darted way ahead of me into the treeline. since the boys ran ahead of me off the path and away from the lights... it was pitch black. there was residual light twinkling through the branches as I made my way down into the trees but it dropped down to a slight hill and the light was lost. I was walking along trying to be as quiet as possible, almost blind due to my eyes not adjusting yet,, and thats when the feeling of dread set in. I had no idea where the boys were, I couldn't see, and I didn't want to be caught my the police by myself.... but there was something else. Almost a chill in the air on this warm night in July. I tried to brush off this uneasy feeling, thinking it was just my nerves or being scared cause the boys took off without me but alarms were going off in my head like something was very very wrong and apart from legal reasons, I should not be there. I make out a shape to the left of me as I'm walking I take a couple steps towards it "guys, is that you?" Nothing. No response. I take a few more steps forward and I swear to God, just like the movies a freaking twig snaps under my foot. Now, the reason I had thought it was the boys is because this shape was crouched down next to a pile of brush and was big enough to look like two people haunches over. I thought they had been hiding there... but when the twig snapped, I stopped in my tracks as this thing stood up and towered over me. I was about 5ft tall at the time and this thing was easily two of me stacked right on top of eachother. Whatever this thing was, it was only 15 feet or so away from me and I was frozen with horror. It was facing away from me at first, then it's neck/ head almost swivled around like an owl and I was met with an oval shaped grey face with no nose or mouth, only 2 itch black hollow eye sockets. The rest of this things body was pitch black against the dark trees, the light from the path as no longer streaming through the branches. It was just me this thing that seemed like the personification of darkness itself. This thing and I stared at eachother for what felt like an eternity. The woods around me through the corners of my eyes was getting darker and my heart was pounding so hard I could feel it through my entire body. Every tiny hair on my body was prickling. I was cold. The only thing I can remember thinking was "this is it. I'm never going to see my family again." The body of this thing had followed its head and swivled so now I could see it's long, curved arms held right up to what would be this things chest. It's legs were similarly curved, almost like it wasn't standing at full height, but still slightly crouching down. It's body was almost translucent and it looked like it was wearing some kind of hooded cloak that was see through as well. The only thing that was 100% solid was its face and its void like eyes that made me feel like I was staring right into the depths of hell. Neither of us moved. We were locked in the most terrifying staring contest for what felt like an eternity until a strange feeling came over me, I felt like I could move again and I had the energy to run a 5k marathon without breaking a sweat. Then, I heard very a calm but stern voice say "Go. Now. Run." Its kind of hard to explain where the voice was coming from exactly. It was sort of in my head but all around me at the same time. I'm getting chills as I write this... I know the voice did not come from whatever this thing was in front of me, because when I heard the voice speak, it looked as if this horrid creature recoiled at the sound of it. Like it took a step or two backwards and kind of ducked it's head down. I saw this as my chance and I turned away from this thing and I start bolting down further into the treeline no longer caring about being quiet and crashing around through the bush like an animal being chased by some predator. I could almost feel this thing right on my tail but, after running about 200 feet (ish?) I run directly into the boys. Literally crashing into them. I'm obviously scared and pissed so i ask why the F they left me like that and they apologized. Apparently I had been missing for almost half an hour and they had already searched the direction I ran from. They heard weird whispering voices all around the woods while I was gone. Like the voices were coming from everywhere around them. They said right before I crashed into them, the whispering stopped. I told them about what I saw and all they said was that we should get out of here. We left the cemetery very quickly and as soon as we walked out of the gates, it was like we all let out this sigh of relief. We never talked about that night again and even during the day, none of us ever took that shortcut through the cemetery. I still live in the same city and to this day I avoid it like the plague. I won't even drive by it. This isn't my only story but it's definitely one of the more terrifying ones that still haunts me to this day.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t403vj/the_hollow_man/

TrueScaryStories

ProllyNotASaint

Did you know that Maurice Grosse the investigator for the Enfield Poltergeist believed his daughter could possibly be one of the ghosts within the house! He found several reasons why it his daughters spirit could have been following him! This is one of them…

What is your thoughts on the Enfield Poltergeist? Do you believe it? [View Poll](https://www.reddit.com/poll/t49628)

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t49628/did_you_know_that_maurice_grosse_the_investigator/

TrueScaryStories

Stuckinthispurgatory

Lured to the abandoned house

Since I was a kid, I was drawn to this abandoned farm house on the corner of this road leading to my house. It was about a block or two away from home, and we would pass it every time we would go to the store, or the YMCA to swim. There was something so cool, majestic, and hell even, “badass” about the way it stood and towered over us as we passed. Not too long ago, my friend moved in to my parents house because he needed a place to stay for the time being. We both have our bored moments and try to think of anything to do to cure it. Between then and now, I completely forgot about the house, but something made me bring it up. So on one cold night, we walk about a mile to the house, about a 15 minute walk. Before hand, we have done research, and no one has owned the house in over 20 years. My friend was asking me if we could just drive my car there, but for some reason I had a bad feeling about that, even though if something were to happen, we would’ve gotten out of there a lot faster. We eventually got to the house, and we found all the doors to be locked. Doing some exploring and looking around, we found the trapdoors to the basement, and instead of metal, they were soft wood, weathered from years of rain. So soft, that the wood just bent back and opened without the hinges budging. Once we got inside, it was really nothing but old stoves, countertops, torn wallpaper and holes in the hardwood floor. Not even a few minutes into exploring, when the sound of cowboy boots echoed beside the house, on the porch. “You boys better get outta my home.” We rushed out of the house like raccoons scurrying away, looking behind us on the porch. No one. No one has lived there, and no one has owned the place. There was even a for sale sign on google maps in-front of it years ago. Was this a spirit or someone messing with us? Whatever it was must have clipped out of the earth as we walked out because it was just gone.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t40o3s/lured_to_the_abandoned_house/

TrueScaryStories

ksguitardude2020

There was something in the brush in my walk home tonight.

This happened to me a few hours ago on my walk home from my co workers house. It was 9:00 pm when I left her house and began my walk back to my own. I walked up the street and decided i’d take the trail that lead to a park close to my house since it would be a lot faster than walking through the neighborhoods. How the trail was set up there were houses on the left side of it across a street and to the right about 4 feet from where I was standing was brush that lead down to a very large over grown area. I had my airpods in and was on the phone with my mom when all of the sudden I hear what sounds like a growl from something big. I stopped in my tracks and took out one of my airpods only to hear heavy footsteps from something about a foot into the brush. I guess when it comes to stuff like this i’m not a fighter. I instantly took off from the trail and ran into the neighborhood I looked back for only a second to see the brush moving right where I was standing moments ago. my head started to hurt and my broken arm was banging into my chest with every step but I ignored the pain. I took a right and then another and I was across the street from the park. From where I was I could see over the trail since it dipped down into a tunnel that lead to the park. I started walking to catch my breath only to hear a loud roar on the trail from something big and angry. I immediately started running again and told my mom in a broken sentence that something roared on the trail. At this point all I had to do was walk down the street and take a right to make it back to my house so I knew unless this thing had super speed I was safe. I made it home and the adrenaline wore off but after having hours to think I wonder what that thing was and would have happened to me if I stuck around on that trail.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t43uyb/there_was_something_in_the_brush_in_my_walk_home/

TrueScaryStories

--soulz--

Something actually touched me!

Hi this happened a while back (like early 2021 maybe) but I'm still stunned by it so I thought I would share it on here. Ever since I was young I have sleep paralysis off an on and have always feared it and going into my teen years it got worse, I use to bite my tongue to wake up but that no longer works. But on this day, I didn't try anything I wasn't even scared surprisingly, anyways I "awaken" hearing two voices (male and female) asking each other of I'm awake, and I was honestly a little annoyed because I hate my sleep being disturbed but knowing I was having sleep paralysis I was a little happy knowing I probably wouldn't be able to wake up until it was over. Anyways after asking each other they decide to ask me🤦‍♀️ I said nothing because 1. I didn't want to and 2.I couldn't. The male voice than says "should we see if she's awake?" The female voice than says "tickle her" now me hating being tickled tries to say "NO, NO, NO. I'M AWAKE, I'M AWAKE" Short after I feel a long nail tickle me and I had a small rush of adrenaline which is surprising bc normal it would've been a lot more but I wasn't even scared of the voices really. I woke up shortly after wondering what the hell just happened and I even turned around and saw no one in my room. Also these were voices I didn't not recognize at all, they sounded a bit out of place and by that I mean I've never heard anyone talk the way did except in movies or shows. They sounded like a rich couple with a slight bit of fancy in their voice but not too fancy.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t43ayf/something_actually_touched_me/

TrueScaryStories

lost_foxx

Window

One night when I was 8 or 9 my mom told me we were going to my aunts. I was happy because usually when we went there I would’ve gotten candy or some trinket like that.Once we got there we were just sitting in are car waiting for my aunt to respond to my mother’s text. It was a shady part of town so my mom wanted to make sure that the door was unlocked so we could get in. Then a man possibly on drugs or drunk or maybe just crazy came up to the car window and knocked on it my mom new something was up. So she rolled down the window a little bit. The man stared and chuckled my mom said what was the problem he pointed at me which I was in the back of the car and said that child stole my link card. My mom was understandably confused and lock the door immediately.The man chuckled again and started shaking the car door’s Handel trying to open it. My mom told my sister who was in the passenger seat to call 911 she knew that this man was not in the right state of mind. He started screaming yelling that I stole his card. Suddenly my mom saw that he was going for the back door. She saw that it was unlocked suddenly the man open the door and tried to grab me. My mom pressed on the throttle and the car jolted forward. he suddenly realized that my sister was on the phone with the police. he looked at my mom and started running down the street I was scared for the rest of the night and couldn’t sleep. But we did get into my aunts house without any more problems and we never saw that man again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t2ui33/window/

TrueScaryStories

Foxygamer1276

The Clown Man

I get followed by random people on Instagram all the time and creepy messages don’t really bother me anymore - there are a lot of weirdos out there. I do tend to read the messages though, out of curiosity and because sometimes they’re really funny. Last year, one account stood out to me, because it DMed me saying “you should ride in our clown car”. I looked at the profile, and many of the images featured VERY creepy clown illustrations and photos. I actually drew a few of them in my notepad because I am I intrigued by strange things like that. The username seemed like gibberish to me, but I googled it and it turned out to be a German author’s name written in one word. I showed my boyfriend the account, and we both thought it was pretty weird but funny. So I replied to him asking if I was an egirl and they struck up a conversation with me, which got increasingly more explicit (on his side) as it went on. Again, I’m used to this kind of thing, so my boyfriend and I thought we’d just troll a bit. He was much creepier than some others though. He spoke with an intelligence and authority that showed me he was older and much smarter than the usual creeps who message me. He wanted to know more and more about my ‘private life’ with my boyfriend, so I thought I’d bargain with him. He had mentioned he was a journalist, so I asked if I could read some of his material in exchange for my (fake) answers, because I kind of wanted to know who this guy was. An example of a message he sent: “Good girl (my name). There’s really no reason to wait to open your legs if you feel that primal attraction and chemistry… Do you tell him to wear a condom or do you rather enjoy the feeling of being filled?” Usually I would have blocked such a weirdo by now, but I got worried when he said something about ‘teaching (me) AP style’. I became concerned he was a teacher. If he was willing to message me, a 20 year old, maybe he was willing to message girls a lot younger than that or girls he had power over as their teacher. It was just a hunch at the time, but I decided to keep on trying to investigate. Eventually he sent me a message saying: “You’re gonna put me in professor mode and I won’t be able to get any salacious slight enjoyment out of you sexually because I’ll see you as a student”. Bingo. I was right. I felt sick at this, but I now became determined to work out who he was and wanted to expose him to whoever he worked for. I asked him if he ever looked at his students how he was looking at me, and he said: “What professor hasn’t - rarely but occasionally - had an enthusiastic and attractive young student and considered ‘what if’ from time to time.” I got the impression it wasn’t such a “rare” experience for him. I started googling his username again, and found a list of university teachers from across the US and UK who had interest in this German author. I spent hours collecting information. He obviously wasn’t willing to tell me who he was, but he seemed entertained at the idea of me guessing. I began to get frustrated, so I decided to try and get his IP address. I was worried he’d realise and block me, or do the same to me and threaten me. But I was too invested in trying to find out who he was now. I disguised it in a fake link and got his location. He didn’t catch on. This narrowed down my search a LOT. He was actually messaging me while he was on his university campus. I still wasn’t sure which teacher was him though. So I emailed the university pretending to be a student, asking if any professors had expertise on the author I found in his username, and made up an essay title I was working on. They replied the next day with a name. I’d been suggesting to him I was trying to work out who he was, so I sent him a message saying “hello, (his name). I’ve found you.” He knew time was up and I’d got him. I emailed the university from a burner account (for fear of getting sued for deformation) with screenshots of his messages, outlining my concerns for his students and how I had discovered his identity. I never heard anything back from them. I don’t know what happened to the clown man, but I really hope he was at least fired.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/t22qtk/the_clown_man/

TrueScaryStories

elleisonreddit

A Killers Diary. Entry#3

I managed to trap my prey, well saying I “trapped” my prey isn’t exactly what happened I just kinda to took it while it slept. Shot it up with some tranquilizers and it was good to go, I guess it’s time to try my hand at cooking it up. I went ahead and put it out of its misery, I don’t need it wiggling around while I butcher it, unfortunately that meant I didn’t get to hear the squealing maybe next time. I cut the thigh meat off first and sliced it up into bacon like strips. I cut off the butt cheeks, I’ll end up cooking those like ham or like a roast. I’m definitely gonna cook the head like you would a lambs head, the eyes will be especially tasty, like two juicy grapes. I’ll cook the liver just like well you know “liver”, add some onions to it and it’ll be really delicious, just like mother used to make. I’ll just grind up everything left over, maybe make some burgers out of it. Lastly I’m gonna boil the bones into a broth. Just another short entry today, maybe more next time.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15ymhr2/a_killers_diary_entry3/

scarystories

Mr_Anonymous1634

Echoes of Room 417

I was desperate. Down to my last few bucks and on the run, the old Seabrook Inn was a haven in my stormy life. It was way off the main road, nestled among a grove of ancient trees, looking like it hadn’t seen guests in decades. The elderly innkeeper gave me a wary look but handed me the key to Room 417. The first night was uneventful. But on the second, a faint, rhythmic tapping sounded at my window. Startled, I looked out but saw only the gnarled branches of the trees swaying. I chalked it up to the wind and settled back into bed. On the third night, the tapping was louder, more insistent. Accompanying it was a soft, almost inaudible whisper. Straining my ears, I could barely make out a repeated phrase, "*Let me in... Let me in...*" I was on the fourth floor. What could possibly tap on a fourth-floor window? I mentioned it to the innkeeper the next morning. His face turned a shade paler. He dismissed it as old building sounds and swiftly changed the subject. But curiosity consumed me. I dug into the local archives, hunting for clues. What I discovered was a chilling tale of sorrow and obsession. Fifty years ago, a woman named Elara stayed in Room 417. She'd fallen madly in love with a man from Seabrook, but their love was forbidden due to their families’ feud. In despair, she'd thrown herself from the window of Room 417, her last words being a plea to her lover to join her. Legend had it that Elara's spirit still haunted the room, seeking her lost love. I shivered. Surely it was just a myth. That night, the tapping grew even louder. The whisper turned into a desperate plea, "Join me, my love... Join me..." Trembling, I peered out of the window, and there she was: Elara's ghostly silhouette floated outside, her hand outstretched towards the glass, her eyes, hollow voids, fixed on me. Panicking, I packed my things and bolted for the door. But it wouldn't budge. The temperature in the room plummeted. Every shadow seemed to twist and writhe. Elara's whispers now echoed all around, her sorrow palpable in every syllable. "Stay with me... Stay..." Hours felt like days. Trapped and terrorized, I desperately searched for an escape. The old legends mentioned her lover, but his identity remained a mystery. The answer to my escape, I believed, was to find out who he was and somehow convince Elara to release her grip on the living. In the room's old fireplace, I found a hidden compartment containing love letters between Elara and her forbidden lover. His name was Samuel, and he never knew of her tragic end. He had written of plans to reconcile their families and unite in love. Their story remained unfinished. With newfound determination, I called out to Elara. "He loved you! He wanted a life with you! Read his words!" A gust of wind scattered the letters around the room. The temperature slowly began to rise. Elara's form appeared, more defined this time, reading each letter with tears streaming down her face. "I waited... I hoped... But he never came," she sobbed. "He never knew, Elara," I whispered, my own tears falling. "He loved you." A soft light enveloped the room, and Elara's form began to fade. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice echoing one last time before vanishing entirely. The door unlocked on its own, and I stumbled out into the hallway, gasping for breath. I left the Seabrook Inn that very night, never looking back. Years have passed, and life has moved on. But every so often, when the wind howls and shadows dance, I hear a faint whisper, a soft thank you from a love once lost, echoing from the confines of Room 417.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15y73h5/echoes_of_room_417/

scarystories

CurrencyLonely4598

The Haunting at Blackwood Manor

In the heart of a dense, fog-shrouded forest stood the imposing Blackwood Manor. Its decaying façade loomed ominously, casting a pall of darkness over the surrounding landscape. Locals whispered of the chilling history that clung to the mansion like a sinister shadow. One moonless night, a group of curious young adults decided to challenge their fears and explore the rumored haunted house. Armed with flashlights and trembling courage, they crossed the threshold, unaware of the terror that awaited them. As they ventured deeper into the mansion's dilapidated interior, the air grew colder, and eerie whispers seemed to echo in the corridors. The walls seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, and strange symbols adorned the floors, telling tales of rituals long forgotten. The group's unease heightened, but their curiosity pushed them forward. Soon, the flickering of their flashlights revealed fleeting glimpses of apparitions - shadowy figures that darted in and out of view. Unsettling laughter echoed through the halls, sending shivers down their spines. Every creak of the floorboards seemed to announce the presence of unseen entities. In the heart of the mansion, they stumbled upon a hidden chamber. The walls were covered in grotesque paintings, each depicting scenes of suffering and despair. An ancient tome lay open on a dusty pedestal, its pages filled with cryptic incantations. Without warning, the room grew colder, and an otherworldly wail filled the air. Panicked, the group tried to flee, but the mansion seemed to shift, trapping them within its labyrinthine passages. Whispers became wails, and the walls seemed to close in around them. The apparitions grew more tangible, their eyes glowing with malevolence. One by one, the group members disappeared, swallowed by the darkness. Frantic footsteps echoed as they tried to find their way out, but the mansion's maze-like design seemed to change with every turn. Dread filled the air, suffocating their breath and sanity. As the night wore on, the mansion seemed to feed on their fear. They were taunted by glimpses of their worst nightmares, haunted by memories they thought they'd buried. Desperation turned to madness, and the line between reality and illusion blurred. When morning finally broke, a single survivor stumbled out of Blackwood Manor, their sanity hanging by a thread. They recounted a tale of terror that defied explanation - a nightmarish descent into a realm where the boundaries between the living and the dead had been irrevocably shattered. Blackwood Manor stood as a grim reminder of the darkness that could lie hidden in even the most innocent of places. The woods grew silent, and locals continued to avoid the area, lest they awaken the malevolent forces that lurked within. And so, the haunting at Blackwood Manor became a cautionary tale, a story whispered around campfires to remind all who heard it that some mysteries were best left untouched.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15y78du/the_haunting_at_blackwood_manor/

scarystories

Hey_BK

Cant sleep

I recently moved from a big city to a little neighbourhood. The people were nice and so were the houses. It wasnt one of those crappy neighbourhoods, it was more like an upper class neighbourhood. The house I bought was amazing. But oddly the people avoided it. The person who sold it to me said it was on the market for 10 years. No one wanted it. I didnt understand why. It was a 2 story house, beautiful white and black marble everywhere. A house you'd expect to be millions of dollars. But i got it for $200, 000. In my opinion it was a great deal! But what the man said sent waves of shivers down my spine. "Weird things happend here. The last owners were crazy. They said something about... Entitys? I dunno, but they left. They said they 'took shape of things they never seen before'. Haha. Crazy." Then he shook my hand and walked away. My first night there was weird. I heard scratching on my door and I couldn't move. The scratching got louder and louder, as if what was outside that door was getting impatient. Sweat dripped off of mu still body. I wasn't scared yet my body was saying i was. The door handle started rattling. I was finally able to sit up. When i did the door slightly opened. Long, dark fingers wrapped around the door. I had to be imagining it. Right? The fingers were bigger than my arm, reaching all the way across the door. Instinctively i grabbed my lamp and threw it. It hit the door and smashed. The thing screeched and retracted. I couldn't sleep. Not knowing what it was or where it came from. I havent slept for 3 days now. Someone help me. Am i going crazy like the old owners?

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xwqzk/cant_sleep/

scarystories

indiana_jones_5555

The Night i experienced spirit

Its was rainy day it rains for two days straight but on that night it didn't rain and my father is out of town i am alone with my mother in our new home that was side of an old abandoned fort. it's just a 2 bedroom home with front yard that directly facing that fort. and located at the end of the neighbouring street and two homes that connected to our home are of bachelors who not leave their frequently and that fort was builded in 1500 AD and abandon since 1800 AD and for 17 years a dead body of King wifes remained here because of construction of taj mahal later that body shift inside taj mahal also taj mahal was planned to build in my city but latter that plan was abandoned by king coming back at that night its a regular saturday night i have watched movie till late night and goes to sleep around 2 am it was all silence i felt cause it continuously rained for two days then it stopped. so the silence was all over street and that fort two security guards always went to sleep after 12 am it was all alone and silent that i watched outside my window that directly faced to street that and can clearly seen fort main building through my window and thats look haunted at night. also my friend from that neighbourhood always ask me weird question that i don't understand like do you like in that home and what's your experience living their i don't understand why they ask latter i asked my friend who elaborated the whole situation she said your house was build on small graveward of fort where the animals,soldiers,and even that queen who died in that fort kept for some time here in that place and before you the two family lived their one family left just in 3 months and the second family the couple who latter hanged his wife in our home after that your family is the one who is living their and also their is a urban legend that in your home their are evil spirits. and it's all true sometimes i feel that aura in that home you all agree that you can feel that bad vibe when you enter a haunted place now coming back on that night when i went to sleep i saw that haunting silence all over the street i lay on my bed a was restless didn't sleep for 1 hr then its 3 am suddenly all that thoughts comes and filled my mind with horror but i convince my brain its just bad thoughts and goes to sleep after drinking some water but then i hear a sound like some women is shouting on her child i got petrified waked up and saw through window and it no one again i lay down on my bed then i hear clearly the same noise directly like she was standing in our front yard i waked up again directly goes to my mother room found that they also waked up and heard same noise like someone shouting we all are afraid what to do my mother started taking gods name i held all my courage and went to main hall to see that some one is there or we won't get hallucination it was some thing real and saw nothing then went to room through hall way and suddenly heard like something was fallen so loudly in front yard we all gather in hall and just sit their it's 4:30 am now and now many noises are coming like 4-5 people is discussing something and that loud shouting noises become more clear but no one near our home i called my father but his travelling some his phone doesn't have any network so i called my uncle luckily his phone got connected and i asked him to come by he heard my patrified voice he was also worried finally he comes and we all goes to my uncles place stay there till my father comes to town again after that night i went their in morning there no sign of anything but i seen a footprint that went in my house and our bathroom door was opened after that that incident we moved to other place till then we all lived in my uncles home its the only experienced something haunting fortunately any three of us didn't hurt but my thoughts on spirit and supernatural things got changed forever

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15y1e16/the_night_i_experienced_spirit/

scarystories

loneoverthinker

One day when I was about two I was in the backrooms and to this day I don't know if it was a dream or not

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15y4tzl/one_day_when_i_was_about_two_i_was_in_the/

scarystories

Mysterious-Iron-5086

My ghost experience

For the past few months my bedroom door had been opening by itself which I thought was a bit odd but I brushed it off because I had my window open at the times it would open so I would get up and shut it but it would open pretty much as soon as I shut it and sometimes it stayed shut which was pretty annoying. I also found out that for the door to properly shut I would have to pull the door up and lock it into place however the door one day did something that it never had before. I was playing on my ps5 and wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings but I saw clear as day a pale arm reach to the outside of my door and slam it shut. It didn’t feel like a threatening entity and I wasn’t scared. I was talking to my aunt the other day who said that she went to a physic who said that a relative called will (me) was going to bed upset and my grandad called Bill was watching over me and was trying to make me a bit happier. Can somebody please tell me what it means or anything about the situation that I might be missing because I don’t really know much about the paranormal?

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xms6a/my_ghost_experience/

scarystories

Wjr269

The Cat. (FAKE SCENARIO) ⚠I AM OKAY WITH THIS STORY BEING PUT ON TIKTOK BUT PLEASE CREDIT ME ID YOU DO SO< THANKS :)⚠

There was a man who lived near the woods on a hill. He had no friends, his family lived far away, and no wife. He was on his way back to the store when he heard a "Meow." He turned around and saw a black cat. It had the biggest yellow eyes, and was skinny as twigs. So he picked it up, bought it all of the things he needed to keep the cat. When he got home he was unpacking groceries when he turned to see the cat. He gave it some food on a plate. What he saw, he will never forget. He saw the cat open its mouth s wide as it would go, and eat most all of the food in one bite. "Okay..that's weird. Maybe it's just hungry." he said. He went to watch TV and was on his way to bed when he heard something. It was a meow, but it sounded like a deep, raspy howl. Almost like something was trying to mimic a cat sound. This freaked the man out so he went and put the cat outside with a blanket. All night he heard those ~~meows~~ howls. The next morning, the man awoke and ate his breakfast. The guilt overcame him so he took a look outside. What he saw, would haunt him *forever.* There were half eaten birds, squirrels, dogs, raccoons, even cats scattered in a bloody mess in the yard. There was an eaten deer with no skull. He looked and saw the cat. It was about 60 ft tall, but still skin and bones. It had spider-like arms and legs. It stood on its hind-legs and walked around, letting out a howl as loud as a train. The man stayed in his house for a while until he thought. *"I can't stay here"* So he grabbed his shotgun and slowly opened the door. He stepped into the yard. He was steps away from the truck when his neck started to sweat. Why was his neck so sweaty? That's unusual. But..what he heard next, would haunt him for just a second. Behind him, he heard a Deep, Low, Raspy howl. ​ ​ ​ In this story I descried a Native American Wendigo. A Wendigo is a demonic spirit that has curse with whoever it eats or possesses will be reborn into a Wendigo. The effects would include, being very skinny no matter how much you eat, and a never ending hunger. Soon that hunger would be a hunger for human blood. They are extremely fast and they communicate through howls. They will eat ANYTHING, from Birds to humans. They say the only thing that can kill a Wendigo is Silver (A silver blade, bullet, ect...) The only thing that will ward off a Wendigo is a certain symbol. The Native American Wendigo usually lives in unpopulated areas, such as a forest or a mountain. (this man lived in Colorado so he lived near both, which is why the Wendigo showed up at the store. (The store was very unpopulated) If you liked it I can make more stories pls tell me and i will! :D) ​

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xuzzj/the_cat_fake_scenario_i_am_okay_with_this_story/

scarystories

FlashCat_25

time I almost got laced in high school

Ik this isn’t really like scary story but it is scary to think about almost dying, so here’s my story. Freshman year of Highschool I became “friends” with these girls who were your typical ghetto trashy fake high school bitches, I think it was around lunch time and I don’t really remember what we were doing but Ik we were rushing, maybe the bell had rung, but one of the girls in the group took me to the bathroom and asked me if I wanted her “stuff” it was just weed and I was a desperate 14 year old so I obviously took it. It was in one of those plastic like containers that you get at dispensary’s, so I thought it was legit. I didn’t Open the container till I got home and when I opened it that shit was crushed up tree leaves. I was sad but not surprised at the very least, I obviously never smoked it. Recently there has been problems with lacing drugs with fentanyl and people have been putting that shit in weed, and in the town I live in , it’s pretty ghetto and has a lot of drug problems. I’m so glad I never smoked it because I probably would be dead. Be careful out there guys and don’t trust anybody, stay safe !

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xp8dx/time_i_almost_got_laced_in_high_school/

scarystories

zombiek1tty

Hi, I am creating a creepy story podcast with my husband and would love to hear some of your creepy stories fiction or non fiction. Leave a name to be credited! ❤️

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xmg8m/hi_i_am_creating_a_creepy_story_podcast_with_my/

scarystories

Adventurous_Party248

Haunted bullets?

My uncle gave me some bullets from the American civil war that had been shot. I took them home and washed them because they were a bit dirty and I left them in a tub. My dad from then on had been getting very strange things happen to him such as a door falling on him head that was lent up like this angle and hit him on the head 📐 he was stood on the this side of the text. there was no wind at all. Then my wardrobe door shut behind him as he saw it shutting out of the corner of his eye. It’s a sliding door and takes a good push to shut. Finally a glass chopping board fell over on the hob which was pretty much at the same angle as the door that fell on his head. We told my aunt about this and she asked if we had brought anything into the house recently to which we told her about the bullets. We went to the local duck pond and I said something on the lines of rest in peace and leave us alone and threw them in the pond. I threw them up and when they landed in they shot about 6 foot across the water. We sat on a bench and as soon as we did blossom fell on our head off of a tree and the atmosphere felt a bit lighter at home. They were also covered in what looked like rust or blood.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xpnxc/haunted_bullets/

scarystories

Wjr269

Whispers of salt

I never liked the ocean. There’s something about water, vast and uncontrollable, that freaked me out. When I moved to Seabrook, it was the last place I wanted to be, right on the coast. Yet, there I was, trying to make the best of it. Little did I know, this town had more up its sleeve than just some pretty waves and sandy beaches. Seabrook had this eerie tale: every 50 years, the sea claimed someone. I laughed it off as a ghost story told at campfires. But the sheer number of memorial plaques by the beach told a different story. One night, after perhaps one too many drinks, I decided to face my fears head-on. As I staggered along the beach, a ghostly ship materialized out of the fog. It didn’t float on the water but hovered just above it. The crew, pale and translucent, beckoned me. Creepy, right? Digging for answers the next day led me to my grandma’s old journal. Turns out, the ship’s crew were the good guys. They protected Seabrook from some deep-sea monster hell-bent on destruction. Every 50 years, they needed a hand, and someone from the town had to step up. That night, lured by an unseen force, I found myself at the water’s edge again. Suddenly, the scene changed. I was amidst a fierce battle, with the ghostly ship and its crew fighting a monstrous sea serpent. Their voices echoed, “Help us! Save Seabrook!” What was a guy to do? I joined in. It was chaotic and surreal, like something out of a video game. As dawn approached, the beast retreated, and everything went back to normal. Well, almost. I had become the town’s secret guardian, ready to step in when the beast returned. The years rolled on. While folks sunbathed and built sandcastles, I was ever-watchful, always waiting. I knew that when the whispers of salt echoed again, it’d be time for round two. Seabrook might’ve been my last choice for a home, but I’d be damned if I let some sea monster ruin it.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15x6in8/whispers_of_salt/

scarystories

CurrencyLonely4598

Damned

Since I can remember we have always lived in this village. It stank of a putrid smell due to the deadly swamp that encircles the village. There is only one way in and out. Crocodiles, and all manner of beasts live in the waters to poisonous white flowers lining the edges. Beautiful and inviting in the fragrance of sunshine, butterflies and places unknown. Some say it was planted, others say it's naturally occurring. Basically everything in this place will kill you if you're not careful. Momma tells me as long as we keep faith and follow the rules we will be safe. Every year a ceremony is held where the elders go forth to the bog. No one knows what happens but in this journey one is always lost or killed by the marshlands. It’s almost as if it’s alive as we are, I dreaded the fate of those who didn't return home. Underneath the terror was a curiosity of how exactly they died. We were kept ignorant. Even as children my friends and I thought something horrifying dwelled there if we forsake our own in such a place. Even going to town was full of peril, and we only left once a month for supplies. My father was taken by swamp during a ceremony and we mourned him. Since his death I have only had questions. What killed him? Why? What is this important ritual about? It protects but how? We live in a place no one already wants to go, the sun rarely even visits. When my friends and I turned 18, Ash was selected for the rite. His parents were proud but they looked profoundly saddened. My heart sank when I watched his parents' faces. They knew something would happen. The adults had to know. I’ll follow them with a weapon in hand and the determination to find out the answers I so desperately needed. Ash seemed happy, he was going to become part of something bigger and finally be realized as an adult. This was his right of passage. Didn't even consider something remotely sinister could be going on. He simply assumed I was jealous. How could I be? Did he forget all about1 what could be in the swamp?” There was a time I might have been but joy was replaced with suspension over the elders. I followed the procession in the dark using my eyes and their torch light to lead the way. It was a cold night with no stars, not even a moon, just pure darkness. Out of sheer bad luck I slightly slipped. The lanterns gave off enough light to see what I stepped on. A perfectly preserved body, this hellhole had been full of the dead the whole time. Did the swamp take them all? Why did they have no skin now ? They are full of puncture wounds! How did they die? I had stopped dwelling on morbid thoughts and caught up to a clearing. I never knew such a place existed, litter with human bones spanning the expense of the glade. My eyes widened in object horror of the numerous skulls. Snapping me out of my thoughts was the conversation. Thanking my friend for his sacrifice , the green god would be appeased. His parents would be so proud. “Ash run! Run Ash!” I screamed consequences be damned. Before he could even register my words a larger vine grabbed at his legs as he begged for his life. I burst through the bushes and rushed to my friend trying to rip him from the vine. It had grown thorns digging deep into his legs. I pulled against the force of this plant but it was growing in strength. Soon it began to throw us both around in a rain of blood. The vines ascend higher covering his torso. As if a boa it began to coil tighter and tighter around Ash encasing him in spikes. I heard only a gurgling cry only once. At this point I was dropped to the ground still holding Ash’s hand. His blood splattered all over my face. It unfurled, dropping a skinless body, only muscle and bone. It stripped the flesh right off him. The elders prayed with joy as I sobbed covered in gore. Ash was gone. They all knew, they all are complicit in these murders. They knew what happened to my dad, they led victims out in the name of this abomination. This village is cursed. We are all damned.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xbd7z/damned/

scarystories

Quotetheraven67

I finally know why the plane couldn't land.

I finally know. It was just a normal flight to Hawaii in the summer for a vacation. It was going to be a nice break from my crummy office job. I was in the middle of my flight when an anoucment came on "Everyone will need to stay in their seats" I thought to myself "thats odd, there has been no tubulance this whole flight." I brushed it off, little did I know this was going to be one of the craziest days of my entire life. I started to feel tired and I closed my eyes to take a nap. Around two hours later I woke up, when I wake up I ask the person beside me what time is it... no response, I look in his eyes and... just a blank stare. I ask again "Hello can you hear me?" Still just a blank stare. I press the flight atendent button, instantly the hairs on the back on my neck start rising as I see the flight atendent walk out... with a blank stare. When she gets to my row she turns her head at a 90° angle and looks down at me and she says "what would you like?" I respond "I would like to go to the bathroom but i didnt know if we still had to stay in our seats." All she said was "You stay in your seats until told otherwise." I finally remember to ask for the time but before I get to say anything she walks away. Then I remember that we had tv and I try and turn it on but it didnt work. Around 30 to 40 minutes pass, I wouldn't know because I dont know what time it is and I'm getting really impatient to go to the bathroom. Then I try and get up but as soon as I get up and flight atendent identical to the one I saw earlier walked over to me turned her head and said "You will stay seated until you are told otherwise" I wait around 10 ish minutes and try again to get up but again she comes walking down the isle and turns her head with red in her eyes and shouts "YOU WILL STAY SEATED UNTIL TOLD OTHERWISE" I'm just frozen in place and all I can think of is ways to escape and I keep thinking about jus opening the door and jumping out........ I'm gonna do it I think to myself. I get up and start running as quick as I can and shove pass the flight atendent and I look over my shoulder and every one has a blank stare and I get to the door and jump... when I jump there is nothing no ocean, not sky, no sun. And then as quick as it started it ended... with the ticket girl saying enjoy your flight.. who I now realize she looks identical to the flight atendent...

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wwqa1/i_finally_know_why_the_plane_couldnt_land/

scarystories

ilikelegos783

Short scaryish story for yall real btw

My mom was awake around 3:30am and she hear a noise witch to her sounded as if someone was building up to crying. She thought it was me so she checked on me and I was asleep. I said it might have been the neighbours kid when she told me the story but she said it sounded like it was in the house (we live in a attached house so sometimes we can hear the neighbours)but she said it didn't sound muffled through the wall and was to loud to be nextdoor and was in the house upstairs.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xfh7o/short_scaryish_story_for_yall_real_btw/

scarystories

ShotProfessional6281

My friend owned a florist shop. She heard the flowers whisper.

The way that a thought can nest its way into your mind is curious to think about. The way it can become so deeply ingrained in oneself that it becomes a very part of them, a part of who they are as a person. It tugs on the very neurons in their brain as if they are the strings of a puppet, or the buttons of a machine. Thoughts can consume you if you let them - Just try not to think about it. It is this very concept that consumed my best friend. A thought so impalpable that she spent her days trying to understand it, trying to reason with it, and letting it merge with her life. Maya ran *The Twisted Bloom* - A quaint, quiet florist. She took over after her sister, Brooke, went missing a few years ago. She had helped out here and there whilst Brooke had been around, so she was familiar with the logistics of the place. I myself had also helped here and there, both under Brooke's ownership and Maya's. But last month, as I was unloading a box of flowers and bringing them inside, Maya said something strange. "She still whispers to me, through the petals." In hindsight, this is where everything began. But at the time, it was a beautiful thought - Perhaps Brooke really was still watching over us, using her passion for nature as the way through. "We all miss her," I smiled gently as I spoke, "I also feel closer to her when I'm around flowers. It's like she's still here." "She is." Maya spoke this time not with the beauty of a metaphor, or the comfort of a belief. She spoke with certainty, as though she had spoken to Brooke. She seemed dismissive of my sentiment, almost offended and angry that I had implied it to be comforting. I didn't speak further, I just nodded, and continued helping. She had lost her sister - I had no reason to think her words were anything more than grief and finding her own comfort. Or maybe I just don't want to blame myself for not noticing. Before taking over *The Twisted Bloom*, Maya had studied chemistry. She wanted to be a Pharmaceutical Researcher - Experimenting and studying drugs to create new breakthroughs in the medical field. I always envied her decisiveness of job choice. I always found it so difficult to decide what I wanted to do with my life, or who I wanted to be. I always told myself that as adulthood came around, I'd realise the answer. But nobody tells you that adulthood doesn't just happen one day - It's gradual; The epiphany moment never came, and even as an adult, I have no idea where I want to go with my life. I think Maya felt that continuing the florist was essential, and she gave up on her chosen career. She never specifically said it, but I know it must have been hard on her. To not only lose her sister, but to lose everything she had planned. But running that place brought her comfort in continuing what Brooke had started, and I couldn't fault her for that. Brooke loved nature, and to let her love dissipate even after she had left this world just felt wrong for Maya. One way that Maya found to combine her interest with *The Twisted Bloom* was by using chemistry to help the environment. A few years ago, before Brooke went missing, she had been developing a solution that sped up decomposition, and provided nutrients for plant life. She soaked a piece of paper in it, and threw some seeds on top. The following morning, the paper was unrecognisable, as a rectangle of flowers bloomed in its place. It was beautiful. Brooke found it so exciting. A few weeks ago, Maya told me she was working on the solution more. "I don't want it to be painful," she spoke solemnly, "that was an issue with the previous version." Curiously, I asked, "Plants feel pain?" "All living things feel." I didn't like the way she was speaking. Something about it just felt off. She sounded sorry, and remorseful. She's never been the spiritual type, so hearing her say something like this was very out of character. Still, though, I only saw it as her emotions taking control. I had no reason to be suspicious. As the weeks went on, she said more and more ominous things. Always about Brooke, or flowers, or both. I knew something was really wrong when she closed *The Twisted Bloom* last week. Even odder is that she didn't close it to focus on anything new - She stayed in the shop, working on her solution, and staring at the plants. Sometimes I'd even catch her talking to them. "You look beautiful, sister." I tried to talk to her about it, but she was always so dismissive. She stopped even letting me inside, claiming I was making Brooke uncomfortable. Yesterday, she stopped responding to texts or calls. Today, I dropped by *The Twisted Bloom, and I couldn't even see her through the window. Worried about her health, I broke a window around the back. Some of the shards of glass sliced my hand, but I was too focused to pay it much attention. I climbed through. "Maya?" I yelled through the store - There were clear signs of life, as all the lights were on, and her equipment was still out in the back room. Yet no reply shouted back. "Maya, please answer me." I wanted a reply, though did not expect one. My heart pounded loudly, almost too loud to even hear a response if I did get one. I searched around the store - Everything looked normal. The plants were well taken care of, and music gently played from a radio on the counter. I walked over to turn it off - Despite how quiet the music was, I still wanted absolute silence whilst I searched. Yet, as the silence began, I noticed a pile of flowers behind the counter. Where Maya usually stood to serve customers was now covered in nature. Beautiful, yet misplaced. Every petal and stem looked healthy in all but their location. Why were they on the floor? As I knelt down to get a closer look, I noticed that each flower seemed to twist, weave, and tangle into the shape of a person laying down. The face resembled Maya, a single stem showing her smile, with many more intricately woven to shape each individual feature of her appearance. It looked like a sculpture, an art piece. I wanted it to be. "Maya," I shouted into the air that now seemed thick, "when did you make this?" I put a hand on the counter to steady myself as I stood back up, feeling a burning sensation in my open wound. Glancing over showed the cause - A tipped-over bottle of Maya's invention, liquid spread over the counter. Liquid that was now in my blood. She didn't manage to fix the pain problem. [===](https://reddit.com/r/BriteWrites)

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15x56oz/my_friend_owned_a_florist_shop_she_heard_the/

scarystories

NomNomNomNation

Me

Me

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xl2ri/me/

scarystories

CosMinimum-Belt8543

My name is command Shaw and I was given a list of rules, I don’t think there suppose to be broken.

In the quiet depths of our secluded military outpost, I, Commander Alexander Shaw, was known for my steely resolve and unwavering commitment to duty. A veteran of countless battles, I had seen horrors that few could fathom. But nothing could have prepared me for the strange and chilling events that were about to unfold. One moonlit night, a messenger arrived at the outpost bearing a sealed envelope. The messenger was haggard, eyes wide with fear. He handed the envelope to me, his hands trembling. "They said you must follow these rules," the messenger whispered, his voice quivering. Confused, I broke the wax seal and opened the envelope. Inside, I found a list of rules written in an elegant, yet unsettling script: **Rule 1:** Never venture into the forest after dark. **Rule 2:** Always keep a lit candle by your side at all times. **Rule 3:** Lock all windows and doors before sunset. **Rule 4:** Do not speak of the shadows that move in the corner of your vision. **Rule 5:** Beware the sound of distant laughter; it's closer than you think. **Rule 6:** When the wind howls, extinguish all flames. **Rule 7:** If you see a reflection that doesn't mimic your movements, close your eyes. As I read the rules, a shiver ran down my spine. They were utterly bizarre, almost nonsensical, yet an unsettling feeling gnawed at the back of my mind. I dismissed them as an elaborate prank or a product of a tired mind, and yet, I couldn't shake off the unease they had stirred within me. Days turned into weeks, and as I went about my duties, I couldn't help but notice the shadows that seemed to dance at the edge of my vision. I tried to rationalize it as fatigue, but the feeling persisted. I followed the rules half-heartedly, keeping a lit candle by my side and locking the doors each evening. One fateful night, curiosity got the better of me. I decided to venture into the forest after dark, convinced that the rules were nothing more than superstitious nonsense. As I stepped beneath the canopy of trees, the darkness enveloped me like a suffocating embrace. The trees seemed to whisper secrets, and the wind carried eerie whispers that made my skin crawl. Suddenly, a distant laughter echoed through the woods. It was a sound that sent icy tendrils down my spine. I hurriedly lit a candle, but the flame flickered and dimmed as if straining against an invisible force. Panic gripped me, and I stumbled back, my heart racing. As I retreated, the shadows around me seemed to come alive, writhing and twisting in unnatural ways. The laughter grew louder, echoing all around me. With a surge of fear, I realized that I had broken one of the rules, and the consequences were unfolding before my eyes. I turned to run, but something caught my eye. A reflection in a puddle that didn't mimic my movements. Trembling, I closed my eyes as the laughter grew deafening. When I opened them again, I found myself standing in a twisted, nightmarish version of the forest. The trees were gnarled and twisted, and the ground was covered in a layer of frost. Desperation consumed me as I realized I was trapped in a realm of darkness and shadows, a place beyond comprehension. The rules were no longer mere instructions; they were the keys to surviving this otherworldly nightmare. But it was too late. The laughter surrounded me, a cacophony of voices that seemed to come from every direction. As the laughter closed in, my sanity began to unravel. I clung to the remaining shreds of my rationality, desperately trying to remember the rules. I closed my eyes and whispered them to myself, hoping that they would be my salvation. But the laughter grew louder, merging with my own terrified screams. The darkness enveloped me completely, and I was consumed by a maelstrom of shadows and fear. Back at the military outpost, the sealed envelope lay untouched on my desk. Days turned into weeks, and my absence remained a mystery. Some whispered that I had ventured into the forbidden forest, while others dismissed it as mere rumors. And yet, on moonlit nights, when the wind howled and the shadows danced, the outpost was haunted by a distant laughter that sent chills down the spines of those who heard it. And somewhere, lost in the darkness, my tortured soul became a part of the haunting symphony, forever trapped in a realm where the rules of reality were twisted beyond recognition.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15x6qo9/my_name_is_command_shaw_and_i_was_given_a_list_of/

scarystories

Last-Ad-1437

Looking for story submissions

Do you have a scary story you'd like to have narrated or turned into a video? If so, submit it to our subreddit r/sandmansnightmares! We accept any and all story submissions and we'll be sure to do your story justice!

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xjous/looking_for_story_submissions/

scarystories

Strange_Stage1311

Never do randonautica

I don't know if you're gonna belive me this story and I'm also sorry if my englisch is bad but I'm living in Germany So at first I meet up at my cousins house and we were bored so we started do think what we should do and I remembered about the app Randonautica. I downloaded the App and searched for a location.It gave me a location about 1 hour away and we decide to go there. On the way we saw that that we go in the woods but this fact didn't stoped us to go to the location. After a couple a minutes the road stoped and there was a big gate that we couldn't pass and there also was a big sign "Private Propriety". We saw on the maps app that we could pass this gate by walking on a field and we did it. When we got nearly to our location we saw that we couldn't go forward because there was a river that cut the side of the woods and the side of the field and because of that we stoped there and tok out our phone and zoomed nearly to our location. We saw a big house made of metal and we woundered why there is smth like that in the middle of a fiel/woods. After a couple of minutes we lightet a cig and set down pn this field and watched the river but the we heared some whistles and somoane who screamed something but we didn't understand what it said. After we heard it we begane to run for a couple of minutes and then we walked again on the road in the woods.After we walked for couple of minutes we looked behind us and saw a man walking behind us.We didn't stop and walked a lil bit faster than him so that we couldn't see h after about 1 mile . After that we saw a bench and we set downon it and thinked about what happened . We sat there for about 30 minutes and after that 30 minutes we tought about the fact that the man needed to go past us in this tome but it didn't so when we were near of my cousins house we saw the man again and started to run in our house because we got a little bit scared. Yeah so what do you think about it? I don't belive in ghosts or smth like that but do you think we should go there again an invastigate the place better or not?

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15x9q8u/never_do_randonautica/

scarystories

SpecialSuccessful404

The ring

Install this app, Watch and download "The Ring" at no cost. https://www.downloader.world/share2/?para1=15364&para2=2&para3=The_Ring

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xhiyw/the_ring/

scarystories

Sufficient_Gap_6510

Scary reddit sories Part 2

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15xe923/scary_reddit_sories_part_2/

scarystories

Advanced-Meal-9250

The screaming lady (NOT REAL)

Before i tell the story i just want to say that this is my first post so dont expect much ​ The party just ended, it was 1am and i started driving back home, i was exhausted. While i was driving home i almost fell asleep a few times, and eventually i actually fell asleep. I hit something that woke me up, i was scared cuz there was nothing on the road. My car was broken and i had to walk home, my house was to far so i had to find a hotel. I was walking for 8 minutes until i heard something in the bushes, i ignored it. A few minutes later i heard it again and again, i was creeped out but i continued walking until i saw i figure in the forest staring at me, i started walking faster and faster. When i finally found a hotel i asked if i could stay the night there, luckly i could. I went to my room and took a shower so i could get to bed. I woke up at 2am cuz i heard a woman scream outside the hotel, i ignored it and went back to sleep. The same thing happend at 3am but i heard the scream even closer. It happend every hour cuz i woke up again at 4am but i heard the scream in the hotel, i freaked out and didnt know what to do, but i fell asleep, but it happened again at 5am but i heard the same woman crying in the room next to me, i was still scared but decided to check it out. I got to the door and looked through the keyhole and saw the same figure i saw while walking crying on the ground, she slowly turned her head and looked at me, my heart was raising but i asked :''why are you here?'' ​ Thats what i saw in his diary, i was in the hotel the night this happend, he died ​

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15x1l8m/the_screaming_lady_not_real/

scarystories

Someone13315

do you experience this too?

for most of my life i’ve had this thought that lingers in my mind and will just pop up every so often. this thought seems irregular but i feel most people have had this thought but aren’t driven by it like i am. anyways, here goes nothing. have you ever had reoccurring nightmares that you remember so vividly like it really happened? this is similar to what i’m going to explain. i’ll be straightforward, i don’t believe i’m real. i believe i’m actually sleeping right now and my whole life is somewhat of a dream but also a nightmare. i always think of this. nothing feels genuinely real. one day i think i’m gonna wake up, young again to my mother saying “it’s time for school” realizing all that’s ever happened in my “life” was just a reoccurring nightmare. there have been times in my life where i literally don’t feel real at all. i don’t know how to explain this and i don’t know if this is normal or if something is wrong with me, but my life feels fake. please someone give some sort of explanation, i’m desperate to understand why this mentality runs through my head and so randomly too.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wtbjt/do_you_experience_this_too/

scarystories

bunnylover_13

Nothing Canyon

I’ve heard from a mutual that you’d like to move out to the countryside. They told me you want some place quiet, away from the rat race, more affordable even. I’m the last person on earth to tell anyone what to do with their lives, really, but I have to give you my two cents for this. There is a lot of *Nothing* in between the cities. You might not have heard of it, it happened a semester before you joined. It was the Davies expedition. A group of about twenty-five researchers, mostly students, from our college that went out to collect some data. They all vanished, all but one. That one was me. If you didn’t already know, I’m not surprised. I don’t like talking about it, but if it can change your mind about the move I will. The Davies expedition was named after my friend, and its lead, Howard P. Davies. He was only a year older than me, but several years my academic senior. He was young for a department head, and had multiple fields of focus. I didn’t then, and still don’t entirely understand Davies’ research. We weren’t even relatively close in fields of study. So I was a little confused when he asked me to come along the expedition. He told me that he had enough researchers to do the work, but needed more bodies to carry the equipment. It was going to be a short trip, two days at most, and it would pay well. Of course I said yes. The canyon we were going to was in a heavily protected wilderness. So protected we arrived with a government escort. They picked us up in huge cars with wheels that were almost as tall as I was. The escort took us down a heavily wooded valley that ran between two monstrous mountains. It had a crystal clear river running through it too. It was like being inside a painting at the louvre. That all ended at the canyon. There was a clear line drawn between the rest of the valley, and the canyon. The tree line stopped, and the grass stopped growing. Only the river kept going, because it couldn’t be stopped. I picked up my share of the equipment and looked over the edge. The canyon itself was relatively narrow at the top, but widened at the bottom. It was really more like an underground cave, but there was more than enough sunlight coming through to light the entire area. So here comes the first oddity I noticed. I should have been able to see the whole breadth of the canyon, but looking too far down or up its length the light would disappear. I was sure that the sun should have been able to light up the whole of the bottom, but it just didn’t. It wasn’t a normal kind of dark either, it was almost blinding. Like there was *Nothing* there. It was hard on the eyes. I blinked a couple times and grouped up with the rest. I noticed that none of the people with the escort were getting off. “Isn’t anyone going to stick around?” I asked “No sir,” said the man. “What about animals? I thought you’d leave someone behind in case of animal attacks or something.” “There aren’t any animals around here.” No animals? This far from humanity and he was telling me there were no animals? I could hardly believe it. I wanted to ask him more, but the government men were on a timetable and they were sticking to it. My mind was buzzing, not quite alarm bells, but thinking hard. I watched the escort leave, thinking I should probably have left with them. I watched them until they were completely gone. My mind got snapped back to the here and now when the expedition let out yowls and cheers. Apparently Davies had given a speech and I had missed it because I was too busy wishing I’d left with the escort. The expedition started shuffling to the edge of the canyon and I followed. The walls of the canyon actually had some pretty nice natural stairs along its walls. They almost looked carved. The canyon was deeper than it looked too. It would take us most of the day to get down to the bottom. I took one step down and in the blink of a second I was at the bottom with Davies' hand on my shoulder. It was disorienting, one moment stepping down, the next second on flat ground. Even the shadows shifted, it must have been later in the day. “You weren’t listening earlier, were you?” said Davies. “What–” “Happened?” “Yeah.” “It’s basically highway hypnosis. Something about this place lets you really lose yourself. Have you noticed the air?” I hadn’t, no, but when prompted I realized that I couldn’t feel the air. Down here the air was skin temperature. It was like being in a sensory deprivation tank. “I can see you have now,” said Davies. “What about the quiet, awfully quiet right?” It wasn’t quiet. It was the absence of sound. Totally and utterly, I couldn’t believe it, and it shouldn’t have been possible. For one, sounds should have been echoing between the canyon walls, and second was my mild tinnitus. After attending one concert too many I was stuck with some mild ringing in my ears. If it got too quiet it was hard not to notice, but not here. I was put into a stupor. “It’s okay, you’re not losing. It’s hard to notice *Nothing*, right?” he smiled. I’m not sure how he could be so at ease. This place was unsettling. “Come on, it’s fine. I think it’s a little creepy too. Let’s just set up our gear, get our measurements, and we’ll be out of here in a couple days.” A couple days. I dreaded the thought. Davies put me at ease though. He was probably just putting on a brave face. If the expedition lead is panicking then how can you ever be at calm, right? Davies gave me the cliff notes on working around here. Basically I had to be mindful of the noise, and the people around me. Keep your mind focused on them and you won’t enter that trance-like autopilot. I did as instructed and before long I had managed to put off my mind from the unsettling aspects of the canyon. The sounds of everyone working to set up our camp was comforting. When the set up work was done, everyone gathered around the kitchen area. The kitchen had a fire going, and everyone welcomed the relative heat vs the *Nothing* of the air around the rest of the camp. You could be mindful of the smell of food too. Everyone was bunched up there, chatting with more volume than needed. We wanted to fill the area with sound, because the quiet was dreadful, haunting. Night time arrived soon after though, and with it, a deeper *Nothing* than before. While the area around the camp had been well lit by the sun, that void of light I had seen from above was still present. The camp was surrounded by *Nothing* on either side. It was somehow worse at night too, because you had real darkness to compare it too. Real darkness was dark, black, a lack of light. The void on either side was Nothing, an absence of reality on either side. One by one people dropped off to sleep, prepping for the next day. It happened slowly because we were all reluctant to leave the campfire and head for our tents. Little by little though, people did leave, and soon it was just me and one other student. A girl named Sasha. Neither of us wanted to get away from the fire. We were terrified, but also tired. We couldn’t keep the fire going forever either. We needed to save fuel for our last night tomorrow. She did the hard part for both of us, snapping to her feet and dowsing the fire then quickly retreating to sit beside me. We tried to make idle chatter, just to keep the quiet away, but to little use. “Don’t you think there’s something wrong with the sky?” she said. Internally I cursed her. Why would you say something like that, in this place, on a night like this. I looked up, just briefly, terrified of what I might see. It was just a regular night sky. “No?” I replied. “Good,” she said, a little relieved. “Good. I’m going to bed.” She didn’t get up though, she fluffed up her backpack and laid her head on it. I gave her a reluctant good night, and fluffed up my own backpack. Was there something wrong with the sky? I asked myself, cursing her again. Why would she even put that thought out there. I took one last look at the sky before I let sleep take me. No, I thought, the sky is fine. It looks just like it does back home. The next day was much smoother than the first. A quiet settled into the camp, but most of us, including myself didn’t mind. In no time at all we had grown accustomed to it, and had relaxed our active mindfulness. It helped to know that it was our last night there. I was tasked with setting up cumbersome equipment, building and tearing it down for the researchers. When I wasn’t needed, I passed the time hanging out with Davies, who had some free time himself since most of his job was just overseeing the work of others. “So…,” I started to ask Davies, “what is this place?” Like I said, I wasn’t in his department, had no clue what he was studying. I didn’t understand what we were doing here. “For starters, it’s not just this place,” said Davies.” There’s places like this all over the U.S.. We don’t have a name for them yet, I’m thinking something like ‘Null Zones’.” “So then these places are…?” “Right now they’re just holes in data. Nothing more, really. I noticed them while looking at a colleague's work. They had been collecting data on animal populations. They had notes on population locations and their spreads. Something seemed familiar so I pinned those populations on a map and noticed these empty pockets. Moreover I recognized these pockets too, from collections of meteorological data. I decided to find other data sets that I could map out and recognized similar empty pockets in all of them.” In other words. *Nothing*. Davies had recognized a whole lotta *Nothing*. I recalled what the government man had told me. No animals in this area. This place was a void. One of Davies’ empty pockets, a Null Zone. It was *Nothing*. Before I could ask more, a researcher interrupted us to tell Davies that Sasha had gone missing. The girl I had spent the last of the previous night with. When Davies and the other researcher had caused an uproar about Sasha, everyone else began to note that their respective partners had gone missing as well. All of us had been in a stupor, let our guard down just a little too much. Davies gathered the entire expedition together to count heads. In the course of the day, we had lost just over half the expedition. Everyone, minus the researcher who told Davies about Sasha, had the same story. They had been hard at work on their tasks since morning, and when Davies snapped them back to reality with his uproar, noticed that their fellow researchers had disappeared in the blink of an eye. One second there, the other second, gone. There was a panic in the remaining members of the expedition, but Davies kept a cool head. He knew, as well as I, that the first twenty-four hours that someone is missing, are the most important. Every hour they weren’t being searched for increased the likelihood they wouldn’t be found alive. I saw him dig into his backpack for a satellite phone. Myself and a few others had been entrusted with one in the case of emergencies. His face turned sour. I fished out my sat phone as well and knew why. Down here in the canyon, we had no signal. Davies had seen me fruitlessly try and make a call with the sat phone. We looked at each other and knew that someone would have to go up top to make the emergency call, to get a search party as soon as possible. To be clear, the horror of the situation hadn’t escaped us. People had gone missing in the middle of the day, in the middle of camp, without anyone noticing. The practical reality of the situation however, kept us grounded. Ultimately Davies made the executive decision as expedition lead, to go back up the canyon alone. Such a decision wouldn’t have been necessary except that the trip back up would take longer than the trip down, and it was already mid day. Whoever went up, would be climbing a steep canyon wall in the middle of the night. Davies got ready to leave, gathering the minimum to make the trip, just a lamp and some dry rations. A few others had decided to join him, citing that it would be safer to make the trip together, but in truth, I’m sure they just wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. So that was that. One part of the expedition would stay behind to make the safer climb at dawn tomorrow and the other would go up the canyon to get help as soon as possible. I said my goodbyes to Davies, and it was hard. It would be the last time I ever saw Davies again. When he left, I was too tired to cry, or do much of anything. So were the others. There were about ten of us left then, down from a team of about twenty-four. Night came, and with it more dread. We lit the campfire as soon as an inkling of dark came over the canyon. We all gathered around the campfire. I looked up the canyon wall, searching for Davies’ team. They should have been somewhat visible in the darkness of the canyon since they would be making the climb assisted by lamp light, but I saw nothing. Then again I had made the trip down in a trance, and did not know the path up. I held on to the thought that perhaps the way up curved around corners that you couldn’t see at night time. I patted my thoughts with the idea that Davies was just out of sight, somewhere up there, climbing back up the canyon walls. Time passed in laps of awareness. We all tried to maintain the mindfulness that Davies had instructed us in, but it was growing increasingly hard. There was also the issue of those of us that remained. No one wanted to acknowledge it, but we were all gathered around the fire and there were fewer and fewer of us than before. At that time I counted six left. All of them worried, and panicked in their silent isolated bubbles. We had been quietly losing people since Davies’ team had left. The fire started to die some time later. The fuel was dwindling, and soon we would be left alone with the darkness and the void on either side. We would be stuck down here with the *Nothing* that surrounded us.That’s when it hit me. Just as the fire died, it hit me. There was something wrong with the sky. We were far into a great protected wilderness. Far and away from civilization, there wasn’t any light pollution. SO WHERE WERE THE STARS. We should have been able to see the milky way out here, billions upon billions of stars should have been twinkling in the sky but there were hardly any. Just a few miserable twinkles. “Where are the stars!?” I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I looked to the others, frenzy clear on my face just as it was on theirs. They had made the same realization, the terror was clear on their faces. It was the last I saw of the others. The fire died out, and I only had the miserable few stars to keep company. There were so few I could count them, and they were blinking out of existence. The night sky was turning into a great blanket of *Nothing* right before my eyes. I must have willed myself to stand up and run. Despite the loss of all my senses I must have run. The air was indistinguishable from my skin, there was no noise, there was no sight. I had only my mind, and the faintest inkling of self left. Somehow I stood up and ran, I know it, and it saved me. The rescue party found me later the next day, babbling near a waterfall. At a guess, I must have run toward the booming sound of the river up top crashing into the canyon below. They found me screaming, spouting random gibberish, any noise to keep away the nothing. Later, much later, when suspicions of foul play had been cleared, I was allowed to read Davies’ journal, which had been swiftly recovered but kept for evidence. I tried to read through it, but as I said I wasn’t in his field and understood little. What little I could understand was most of what I had experienced myself. There was only one more horror waiting for me at the end of his notes. *The Null Zones were moving.* In his notes. I quote. “Conclusion: More in depth study needed, original hypothesis invalidated. Originally I thought the Null Zones spawned away from large population centers, but the readings here suggest that they *migrated*. Rather than large population centers being built away from the Null Zones as I hypothesized, it was the Null Zones that had been “chased away” by the life of large cities.” They move. Places like the canyon move. So I beg you to take me seriously friend, do not move out to the countryside. You may be fine for a while, but one day you might wake to the peace and serenity is just the absence of sound. You may even notice that the air seems strange, and wonder when the last time you saw any wildlife was. By then it would probably already be too late. Stay in the city friend, where it’s safe from the *Nothing*.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wwvi0/nothing_canyon/

scarystories

ExecutiveVamp

100% real story

This is 100% real story that happened to me in my childhood. This story is not actually scary, just a weird moment in my life, for which i can't find any physical/logical explanation Around 2008-2009 (i was born in 2000) me and other boys from the street were playing with phone of one of boys. We were filming goofy videos and just hanging around. Then boy with the camera turned Invert effect on (it's when everything is black and white, but bright colors are portrayed darker and darker colors are portrayed brighter). We continued filming some goofy movies until one who was holding the camera called us to look at what he is filming. Everything on the screen was black and white as it should be, except something behind the big tree we were standing next to. There was nothing actually behind this tree in reality, but on camera there was a pretty big sphere of orange light floating at circa 50cm height. This couldn't be phone screen glitch, because when we were moving around the tree still filming the sphere, it was staying behind tree where it was, like it was actual physical object. I remember this moment very clear and was thinking of it since childhood, also other boys seen it too and i wasn't afraid at all, which means it wasn't hallucination. The older i was getting, the more i was thinking of this event and understanding how odd it is. I was thinking what could possibly cayse this effect and i haven't found any physical explanation on how this could happen.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wmcfd/100_real_story/

scarystories

hadridd

There is something wrong with me

Ever since I was born on October 13, 2006, there has been something different about me. VERY different. I always showed aggressive behavior like biting, scratching, etc. Especially at night. When it is 10 pm every night, things sort of just, went blank. I can’t control what I do, I don’t even remember anything. I’m just sort of there. But what happened last year has gone to far though. I got ready for bed like anyone else at around 9:30. Then I went to my room to go to bed, or try to at least, then locked the door. Then 30 minutes later, 10:00 hit and that’s when it begins. I heard voices, they told me to do things, bad things. When I didn’t do it, i fall out of control, my body moves like a puppet and the demons are the masters. They made me walk unlock the door, they made me leave the room, they made me go into the hall, they made me go into the kitchen. I opened the drawer of knives, they chose the biggest, the sharpest, one. I remember entering the living room, and walking up to the dog, Marcus, a golden doodle, then that’s when things started getting blurry, as I approached him, I heard my heart beating, faster, faster, and faster, my ears were ringing, the voices got louder. Then I held the knife up high, and as hard as I could, I stabbed him and he let out a yelp, and I kept doing it. There was blood everywhere, on my clothes, on the floor, and on the walls. My parents must have heard all the ruckus because they came into the living room, of course they new about how different I was from everyone else, but it never got to this point. When I turned around, I saw their looks of horror, tears fell from their eyes. Me on the other hand, had a blank face, no emotion, absolutely nothing. No guilt, no sadness, no anger. Then things got blurry again, the voices spoke more, heart beating faster. I stood up, not breaking any eye contact, and slowly walked towards them. I tried my hardest not to obey, not to move, to drop the knife, but they did it for me. They made me walk. Then my parents started to back away from me, they feared me. Then I held the knife up again, getting ready to stab them, but then everything went dark. Blank. I passed out. I woke up the next morning, not in my room, not in my house, not anywhere familiar. My head hurt really bad too. The room was white, the floor was tiled, the bed sheets were white as well. Then I realized something, I was in a hospital, an asylum. Then I came to the conclusion that my younger brother must have hit my head hard that caused me to pass out. Then my parents must have drove me here while I was asleep, most likely tied up. Now, a year later, I’m still at this place, they let me have my phone for an hour everyday so I wanted to tell someone about it. I don’t get many visits from my family, they are afraid still. I regret what I did badly, they think I’m insane, but it wasn’t me that did it. It was the demons in my mind. It’s there fault, I was trying to stop them, I shouldn’t be here. Now I got to go now, my phone is gonna get taken away soon. Goodbye.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wmlop/there_is_something_wrong_with_me/

scarystories

defnot-El

Above My Head

When I first heard it, it scared me. The scratching. A soft scraping sound echoing in the silence of my darkened bedroom, right above my head. It would barely be audible during the morning, when I was on my computer or reading a book, but at night, it was the only sound I could hear. As I laid under my covers, the sheets pulled as far as possible in order to take in as much warmth as I could, I would still be shivering. All because of that damn scratching. The soft raking, to me, sounded like rats scurrying, devouring a scrap of food. It made bedtime tense, unnerving. I feared if I even so much as glanced up to see what it was, a monster would attack me, and tear me apart in grisly fashion. Ultimately, this fear was irrational. One night, I finally gained the courage to take a glance. Slowly, I lifted myself from my pillow, cautiously turning around to take a peek. Immediately, any fear I felt evaporated when I saw what the source of the scratching was. It was the warning label attached to the end of the string for the blinds in my bedroom. Wind from my ceiling fan was lightly blowing on it, making it brush against the wall, as the string stretched down past the blinds. I felt so dumb. I was already in high school, and a fucking piece of plastic raking along a wall scared me? I really was a wuss. After that, the scratching became a sort of comfort to me. Now that I knew what it was, the unknown part, something that is considered scary by most of humanity, was no longer unknown. It was familiar, a sound I was used to, comforted me. I began to find it soothing, and would begin to find my eyes growing heavy as I laid in my bed, my mind blank, listening to scratching and the whirring of my ceiling fan, letting their combined noise lull me into sleep. It was nice. One night, as usual, I laid in bed, the covers pulled up to my chin, my ceiling fan blaring and the scratching doing its thing. As I felt myself about to go under, the scratching stopped. That wasn’t unusual. I don’t know what the reason was, but I’m sure the fan wouldn’t be hitting it with its wind at every single moment. Maybe my pillow blocked it? Maybe the wind sometimes didn’t hit it in the right place? Something like that. Soon though, the scratching started up again, as it always did. Right when I could feel the process of going to sleep coming to completion, I realized something. There was something different about the scratching. Usually, it was slow, closer to light-raking. It was also quiet, only being audible to me due to how silent it was in my bedroom at night. Now though? It was louder, more erratic. Not only that, but it seemed to be increasing in volume, becoming more and more grating. No longer did it sound like a scurrying rat. It now sounded like someone was scraping a knife along the wall. Alarmed, I threw off my covers, flipping onto my stomach to see…. Two long, bony, gray arms, one gripping the warning label in its hand to keep it in place, the other raking its sharp, almost knife-like nails along the drywall of the wall near my head, leaving deep scratches.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wslw2/above_my_head/

scarystories

Ok_Classroom2114

The Neighborhood (fake)

I went on a walk at night with my friends, thinking nothing of it. What I saw in the coming day has scarred me for life. My name is James Broughton and I am a 16 year old boy who lives in Colorado. I’ve lived in the same neighborhood all my life- a neighborhood full of older people and barely anybody my age. A rather small neighborhood, but full of wealthy people and owners of businesses. I never had many friends. I go to a small school with some teachers that don’t even have their degree. My parents have very different sides. My mom is the owner of a bank, the only bank in my small town. Everyone uses it, of course, and that’s where we get our money from. My dad, however, had a very different upbringing. He was born here, but in the other side of our small town. A much more poor part, with a large homeless population and barely any businesses. When we moved here, my dad had always heard noises from outside, like singing and humming, but it was hard to believe in our old and quiet neighborhood, at least according to my mom. She always tells my dad to think with his brain and be more conscious, rather than trying to scare me. One night I woke up from sleeping to an off feeling. The air felt different- I don’t know how to explain it. It just felt off. I walked outside my room to see my dad staring through our window next to our front door. “Do you hear that, James?” He asked me, “please don’t tell me I’m crazy.” I approached the window and put my ear to the cold glass. I now knew my dad wasn’t paranoid or crazy- he’s been right the whole time. He told me to never EVER go out at night. I was hesitant to go back to sleep that night. The humming and singing echoed in my head all night long. I then woke up- but I didn’t feel like I was ever in a sleeping state. I got up and walked out to an empty living room. It was utter silence. It felt insanely eerie. I called my mom to make sure everything was okay, which she made sure it was. She knew I suffered with anxiety, so it felt good to be assured everything would be okay. She then let my friends over, which I knew would clear my mind. I explained to my friends what had been happening around my neighborhood. They were eager to begin looking around. We all collectively decided to go on a walk at night around my neighborhood. 11:56 PM About 5 minutes in, just finishing going down our hill, we heard a loud bang, almost like a gunshot. We then heard cheering. I had no idea what could’ve been going down in my extremely quiet neighborhood. 12:01 AM My 3 friends and I began walking to the end of our neighborhood as the singing and cheering became louder. Our hands started shaking and I started suggesting that we should go back, but one of my friends insisted that we were almost to a dead end, and after we get down there we could go back and explain to my family what we heard. 12:04 AM We had reached the end of my neighborhood, and the noises had peaked. We were about to turn back before we noticed that every house in the neighborhood was pitch black. We didn’t think much of it, considering everybody is probably asleep, but we kept investigating. 12:07 AM Blood. We all gasped as we found a blood trail along the curb going into the forest. I knew where the forest led to, I’ve lived here long enough. It was a field, a very wide field that was going to be a casino but they cancelled construction at the last second. Our intrusive thoughts won and we walked through the trail of blood, and the cheering got so loud that our ears started ringing. I told my friends to have 911 on speed dial just in case. 12:12 AM There it was. A group of people lined up in a circle, dancing. My first thoughts were that we just accidentally walked in on a cult. Which I was partially right. As we got closer to take a picture, my friend’s phone automatically switched to flash because of how dark it was outside. A few of the members saw us. We immediately panicked, torn between running away or hiding behind trees. 12:16 AM They approached us, in masks with the eyes marked out with red paint. Covered in black with suits and gloves. My heart skipped several beats, but I knew I couldn’t just surrender and await whatever punishment this cult or whatever it is gives me. I told my friends to dial 911, even though there was no way there was any service. I am about to risk my life. 12:18 AM I sprinted across the field, yelling and cursing knowing this is where my life ends. Multiple cult members chased me. A mix of tears and sweat came down my face. I then got tackled by one of the masked men. He started yelling at me in a foreign language. I fought and screamed for help, but the men put duct tape over my mouth. 12:20 AM The main man who appeared to be the leader of the cult backed off of me and loaded his shotgun. He pointed it at me with the other 4 men at his side with assault rifles. I closed my eyes, knowing this was the end. BANG! A sniper rifle bullet went clean through the leader’s head. Multiple men in gear that looked like US special forces moved in, shooting the remaining men that tracked me down. I heard helicopters fly by with men dropping down in full gear and guns. 12:22 AM I glanced over, shocked to see my father also in full gear walk towards me with a sniper rifle in his hands. He lifted me up, “son, what did I say about being outside at night?” He asked me, looking more worried than angry. I was so confused. 1 DAY LATER My friends are gone. They were captured by the terrorist organization that is known all around the world. They have groups all across North America, hunting people and attempting to overthrow governments. My dad is the leader of a US special forces group that hunts down these groups. It turns out my mom never was super wealthy, in fact, she’s actually unemployed. This town isn’t even a real town. It’s a setup to kill these people.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wus4p/the_neighborhood_fake/

scarystories

Livid-Feeling585

The Haunting Silence

The abandoned sanatorium stood on the outskirts of town, shrouded in mist and mystery. Amelia, a curious journalist, was drawn to its chilling history. Stories of unspeakable experiments and tortured souls lingered in the air, urging her to uncover the truth. Amelia’s footsteps echoed through the empty halls as she ventured deeper into the darkness. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, and an icy breeze brushed against her skin, carrying faint whispers that sent shivers down her spine. A flickering light led her to a room filled with old medical equipment. As Amelia glanced around, the machinery seemed to come to life, emitting eerie sounds of labored breathing and faint cries. Her heart raced as she realized she was not alone. Voices whispered unintelligible words, growing louder and more frantic. Amelia’s thoughts blurred, and she felt herself losing grip on reality. Desperate to escape the cacophony, she stumbled out of the room, only to find the corridor had transformed into an endless labyrinth. Time became a haze as Amelia wandered aimlessly, the walls closing in on her. Each turn she took seemed to bring her back to the same intersection. Panic settled in, gnawing at her mind as the whispers intensified, becoming accusatory and malicious. Amelia’s reflection in a cracked mirror showed a face contorted with fear. The mirror shattered, and her reflection grinned, its eyes gleaming with malevolence. She screamed, the sound swallowed by the suffocating silence that followed. Faint memories surfaced – memories that weren’t hers. Faces of the sanatorium’s tormented patients flashed before her eyes. Their pain and suffering seeped into her consciousness, threatening to consume her sanity. A door materialized before her, its surface pulsating with an otherworldly energy. Drawn to it against her will, Amelia entered a room filled with grotesque experiments preserved in formaldehyde. The air reeked of decay and despair. A voice echoed in her mind, a voice that seemed to come from both within and beyond. It spoke of the sanatorium’s dark past, of the malevolent experiments that tore souls apart and trapped them within its walls. Amelia’s mind unravelled further, her thoughts intertwining with the tortured memories of those who had come before. She could feel their pain, their desperation, as if it were her own. She was becoming one with the haunting of the sanatorium. As the boundary between reality and nightmare blurred, Amelia’s body began to wither, mirroring the tormented souls who had suffered within the sanatorium. Her screams merged with the chorus of agonized voices, becoming an eternal symphony of suffering. The sanatorium stood silent once more, its hunger for souls briefly satiated. The mist enveloped the building, and its dark secrets remained hidden, waiting for the next curious soul to succumb to its malevolent embrace.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wqako/the_haunting_silence/

scarystories

lazy-roamer

The Demon Dance of Deshaies

In the heart of Haiti, nestled between verdant mountains and azure waters, lies the secluded village of Deshaies. While the world outside has modernized, Deshaies clings to its roots, with traditions passed down through countless generations. The most revered—and feared—of these traditions is the annual Demon Dance. Every year, as the moon reaches its zenith in the dark sky of the vernal equinox, the villagers gather in the central square. Bonfires roar to life, casting long, dancing shadows on the cobblestones, and the rhythmic beat of drums fills the air. This is the night of the Demon Dance, a ritual to appease the spirits and ensure a prosperous year ahead. But the dance is not just a festive tradition. It's a pact, a delicate balance between the world of the living and the realm of spirits. As the legend goes, centuries ago, a powerful Loa, a Voodoo spirit, saved Deshaies from a devastating plague. In return for its benevolence, the Loa demanded an annual dance in its honor. But there was a catch. Each year, the Loa would join the dance, taking on a human form, and choose a partner. As dawn approached, the chosen one would vanish, never to be seen again, their spirit dancing eternally with the Loa in the otherworld. The night of the dance is both a celebration and a night of suspense. Young and old dance fervently, their bodies moving in harmony with the hypnotic drumbeats. But as the night deepens, a palpable tension fills the air. Who will the Loa choose this year? Marie, a young woman with fiery spirit and a skeptic's heart, had returned to Deshaies after years in Port-au-Prince. She had heard tales of the Demon Dance but dismissed them as mere superstitions. That night, as she joined the dance, her laughter echoed above the music, her movements bold and defiant. As midnight approached, a tall, masked stranger entered the square. His presence was magnetic, drawing dancers towards him like moths to a flame. Yet, no one knew who he was. Marie, intrigued and slightly tipsy from the local brew, decided to dance with the stranger. Their movements synchronized, they became the center of attention, their dance both passionate and ethereal. But as dawn's first light touched the horizon, Marie's laughter faded. The stranger's grip tightened, and she felt a coldness seeping into her bones. The villagers watched in horror and realization as the masked man led Marie towards the edge of the square. As they reached the shadows, both figures dissolved into the mist, leaving behind only the echo of the drums and the villagers' hushed whispers. The next day, a new mask, eerily resembling Marie's radiant face, appeared on the sacred altar in the village's Voodoo temple. The pact had been honored, the balance maintained. But for the villagers of Deshaies, the Demon Dance would forever be a haunting reminder of the thin line between reverence and fear, tradition and sacrifice.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wtfkr/the_demon_dance_of_deshaies/

scarystories

TwoTricksOneTreat

Karma

I Took the back of the pistol and smashed his teeth in leaving a black hole of blood draining from his gums. I felt a vibration from my hand squeezing the trigger to his head, then blood raining from the sky as if god was bleeding himself. My heart grew with warmth and fear at the same time “God don’t like ugly” I whispered into the pile of brains I left seeping into the concrete. A sound of desperation left the corner of the street as well as small foot steps so I followed. A petrified young man no younger than 10 kneeled in front of me weeping about the man on the ground whose blood rained from the sky just a few moments ago. “Can you help me find my mommy?” I stuck out my hand and walked him to the back corner of the block. I cocked back my gun for the 2nd time tonight A pressed the cold barrel to his temple I looked into his blood shot Dewey eyes and felt nothing. My body is shaking from excitement as he begs for his life trying to gain my sympathy. I see his soul draining from his face as I click the trigger back. I love that sound, the click of it illuminates my dreams. Time freezes as I watch the top of the gun explode on his temple, the little boy drops instantly on to the concrete where no grass grew but Beatles still circled the floor. No blood not a single drop of blood was anywhere and I knew guaranteed his brain would rain from the heavens just like that man. As he laid on the ashy concrete I notice something silver next to him. It was the bullet from my gun, dented in almost flipped inside ou… Instantly a shock of excruciating pain hit my neck I can hear my fucking heart in my ear drums, I can hear my eyes and smell my flesh “What the fuck…?” My neck snapped forward as I heard growling coming from the side of me I grabbed my neck which was filling my hand with nothing but thick syrup “I like ugly…”. A demonic voice mocked my pain as if he heard me from my previous altercation My body froze up in shock as I kneeled infront of a ominous dark shadowy figure that was some how larger than me even if I wasn’t kneeling. A Fucking Beast Gazed at me from above with excitement as I beg for his sympathy. The young man who was no younger than 10 disappeared, no trace of him. This nigga just bit me, my realization began to kick in. I slid on the concrete that had no grass but the Beatles still circled around me My vision was pulsing and I could hear the dark giggle of what once was a scared little boy I prayed out “Dear God pleas..” A aggravated growl grew And My blood rained from the sky as if god was bleeding himself.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wjgrr/karma/

scarystories

Suuyungg

The monstertrap incident

Back in 1987, my oldest son michael decided to play a prank on his little brother, i ran a restaurant with my partner travis called fredbears family diner, anyway michael decided it would be funny to but his little brothers head into fredbears mouth, it crushed his skull instantly, michael ran out laughing, havent seen him since. we had to close the restaurant, then in 1992 i had a prototype animatronic named circus baby for my daughter elizibeth, well the animatronic malfunctioned and killed her. very much, in 1995 i went down a dark path. I wanted to see what remnant could do when fused with a animatronic soul, but i needed remnant, so i found 6 children and killed them, after that it seamed that the souls didnt work so i just started making the suit i am in now, when i made it, it was a bright yellow rabbit suit, the year 2000 was the year it all went to hell, the animatronics escaped containment into the world, golden freddy cornered me in the room with the springlock suit, i should have just faced the fire and went to hell like i should have. Those springlocks i feel every waking moment of my life, it pierced my organs, my throat, my eyes, i still feel the pain

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15wtwls/the_monstertrap_incident/

scarystories

destroyersus2

Haunted hotel room

Before I start this story, I heard this story from one of my high school teacher 5 years ago and It gave me chills so I thought I could share this story. Telling this in 1st person view I was on a business trip in Washington state for a couple days coming from Utah. Once the trip was over I was driving back home, but I didn’t bother getting any rest before driving. I’ve been driving for almost 4 hours and in the middle of no where but I all I really cared about was finding a hotel so I can get some sleep. After 30 minutes at around midnight I found a hotel so I pulled up, got a room, and took a shower so I can go to sleep. When I was brushing my teeth supposedly I hear a couple arguing from the room next to mine, I wanted to check if everything was ok but at the same it really wasn’t none of my business so I just ignored it. After falling asleep I wake up at like 4am and from the same room next to me I hear a woman crying. After having 2nd thoughts of wanting to see what’s happening I decided to go to the room and knock on the door to see if everything is ok. I had 2nd thoughts again and I decided not to knock but I did see a keyhole I looked through it and I see a woman but her back was facing the door. I decided to leave her alone went back to my room and went back to sleep. I wake up again at 6am got ready, packed my bags and left the room so I can get back on the road. Right before I started to make my way to the front desk I wanted to check one more time through the keyhole where the woman was staying at. When I looked the keyhole all I saw was a red light I had no reaction and just left it alone. Once I returned the key to the lady at the front desk I asked her, “Excuse me do you know anything about the the room next to mine I kept hearing noises throughout the night and I’m just wondering if you know anything” what she said to me freaked me out she looks at me and says, “oh yeah, that room. Supposedly that room is haunted and that’s where the woman with the red eyes lives.”

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15w2bcl/haunted_hotel_room/

scarystories

Culturead2004

Someone broke into my house so week could go

Me f 21 lives in a apartment alone. The apartment is pretty new it was made in 2015 so it's not like those old apartments that you could hear every single sound. I came home from a long day of work I was exhausted. I was so exhausted that I forgot to lock my door. Right away I just changed and flopped on my bed and fell asleep. Later that night I heard a bang I don't have any animals. I ignored it thinking that it was my next door neighbors. I'm a very light sleeper so I could just wake up to a little Bang. Next thing I noticed I wake up to the door shutting. (Mind you I live 2 blocks down a homeless shelter) right away I knew someone had to be in my house or just left my house. I was about to call the cops and tell I realized that they closed my door. I froze I was scared to pick up my phone. Next thing I noticed is a black figure where my closet is. I was frozen I couldn't move a muscle. The only thing that was light in my room was the Moon reflection. I see that figure look back at me. He had a backpack on him. Right when he found out that I was awake he ran out my apartment. Right when I came back to my senses I picked up the phone and called 911. When the police show up. They find the needles in my house. It clearly means that he was on something. And I guess when the man was running he dropped a kitchen knife. I started looking for new apartments right now I'm safe and at my parents house.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vxm4y/someone_broke_into_my_house_so_week_could_go/

scarystories

Efficient_Rest_9568

Never Going Camping Again..

When I was 15, our family decided one winter we should go camping, and in Arizona winters weren’t piercing cold so we drove up into the mountains and while I wasn’t on board with camping I was forced to go. But once we were in this dark empty forest only thing in sight were tall dry trees and slight frost along the tips of the grass, I was bored that night and wanted to explore a little while my family was setting up the tents. So I dove into the dark depths of the night, a chilling wind whispered through the trees, sending shivers down my spine, and obviously I was scared who wouldn’t be but my foolish self decided to continue as the moon hung like a cold, pale eye in the sky, casting eerie shadows that danced across the ground. I found myself drawn to the dilapidated house at the end of this long hallway made of trees, a place that gave of horrible feelings. Curiosity gnawed at me, propelling me toward the decaying front door. The wood creaked under my weight as I pushed it open, revealing a hallway cloaked in darkness. The air was thick with a musty scent, like decay and time itself. I flicked on my flashlight, its beam cutting through the blackness, revealing walls covered in peeling wallpaper. As I ventured deeper into the house, the floorboards groaned beneath my footsteps, as if protesting my intrusion. The hallway led me to a door, half-ajar, revealing a room bathed in a sickly red glow. My heart raced as I stepped inside, my breath catching in my throat at the sight before me. Candles lined the room, casting flickering shadows that danced upon the walls. In the center of the room lay a gruesome tableau – a body, torn apart in the most horrifying way imaginable. Blood stained the floor, forming gruesome patterns that seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. The stench was overwhelming, a sickly sweet mixture of iron and decay that threatened to make me gag. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the macabre sight – limbs twisted at unnatural angles, viscera strewn across the floor like some twisted work of art. The walls themselves seemed to ooze with dread, as if the very essence of the room had been tainted by the violence that had occurred here. A low, guttural sound echoed from the shadows, and I spun around, my flashlight beam revealing nothing but darkness. My heart pounded in my chest, a primal fear taking hold of me as I realized I was not alone. Something was lurking in the corners, something that reveled in the pain and suffering that had taken place here. A whisper brushed against my ear, icy fingers trailing down my spine. My breath hitched as the words seeped into my mind – a litany of horrors, a symphony of despair. Panic clawed at me, urging me to flee, but my feet felt rooted to the blood-soaked floor. In that moment, I knew that I had stumbled upon something beyond comprehension, a darkness that defied the boundaries of our world. As the room seemed to close in around me, I realized that the horrors of the house were not confined to its decaying walls – they had taken root in my very soul, forever binding me to the malevolent presence that hungered for more. I went to therapy for months after that night and still have nightmares and visions that bring me back into that horrid house. And even years later I have no idea what went down there.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vwbeb/never_going_camping_again/

scarystories

Fizozz

I Work As A Custodian For A 24/7 Theater With Some Strange Rules.

Hello, as the title says I work at a 24/7 movie theater. Recently a strange turn of events has me reconsidering my current occupation. You see I work during the graveyard shift from 11 pm to 7 am. Now other than this theater being open 24/7 everything is the same however there are rules to the overnight sift we have to abide by. I can remember the first night on the job when my boss Tiaman showed me the ropes. Reminding me that there are steps to cleaning and shutting down the bathrooms and how to clean the screening rooms in between movies. He took me to his office to show me a set of rules we MUST go follow. "Ok, Andre. We have a set of rules you must always follow and if not followed will be a cause for termination." Taman said sternly "I will have zero issues following!" I spoke with extreme enthusiasm. "Well, well, well looks like you want to work! Ok, let's go over them then." He spoke in a happier tone 1. When it becomes 0300 you must close down all the bathrooms until 0400 2. When cleaning out the theater the light has to be on and you must finish before the screen turns black 3. If a man without a face walks in you are not to speak to him for any reason. 4. All of the staff must enter the lobby at 0300 and stay there until 0400. 5. If you see someone talking to a man without a face DO NOT ATTEMPT TO STOP THEM AND LOOK AWAY 6. Do not attempt to film or record anything that goes on here. "Now that we have gone through all of the rules is there anything you need for me?" He said nonchalantly "I uh ... no I'm good" I spoke swallowing my nerves He smiled at me and escorted me out of the office then left the theater. I instantly got to work cleaning the front room while a person named Cynthia taught me the ropes. She was a very nice girl and has been there for years. "Hey it's almost 3 am and we need to close the bathroom and then head to the lobby let me show you how." She seemed a little nervous as she said this. I followed closely behind as we walked toward the bathrooms. The only strange thing is how the bathrooms have deadbolts that are kinda hidden on the outside. "Ok, first we knock three times and crack the door open then ask if anyone is in there." She takes a deep breath and knocks three times. "Anyone there? Custodians we need to clean the bathroom at this time." She listened closely and heard someone say "Uh yes! I'm almost done." A woman's voice can be heard in the background. "Well ok thank you." She looked hurried and looked down at her watch seeing the time clicking closer to 3 am. At the time it was 2:57 am and I can see Cynthia getting more and more on edge as the time gets closer. "Shit shit shit... It's 1 minute until 3 am and she hasn't flushed... We need to lock the door NOW" right when she reaches for the hidden deadbolt the woman came out and says sorry then walks to the theater down the right. Cynthia quickly locks the door and breaks out as a sign of relief. "Thank god she got out of there..." It was then we heard a scream in the bathroom. Another woman was in there still. "YO We gotta help her!" I shouted as I reached for the deadbolt but I was abruptly stopped by Cynthia who grabbed my hand and pushed me away. "Hey! What the fuck are you..." I exclaimed until I was cut off "Listen to me now and listen carefully. We CAN NOT open this door if we do you and I will die. Now we gotta get to the lobby." She said with fear in her eyes and pushing me to the lobby. In the background, I can still hear the unknown woman screaming in the background as if she was being killed. I can hear the screams even in the lobby but when it became 3:30 am the screaming stopped with the sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones. For the first time, I felt primal fear... The idea that someone was being torn to shreds made me feel like I don't want to be there anymore. I slowly started walking toward the doors when it walked in... Standing in front of me was a man about eight feet tall wearing a suit and a bowler hat. He had no face. No eyes, ears, mouth, or even nose. He looked at me then looked at the front desk and continued walking. He briefly stopped at the front desk and placed five human fingers made of gold on the counter. He waited for the cashier to hand him what looked like a movie ticket made of pure light. He walked down the hall before a customer was walking down the same hallway and didn't seem to notice him. I decided to look around the corner and followed him with my eyes. He stopped in front of a picture on the wall and walked through it. I can hear everyone taking a deep breath. Cynthia pulled me to the side to speak with me. "Ok, so I need you to keep a promise... You and I are going to clean the bathroom but you cannot say a word about this to anyone or anything... What you see here STAYS here, got it?" She looked at me with fierce determination "Ye...yea. I promise" Of course that was a fucking lie. She and I got to the bathroom and she took a deep breath and shakingly opened the door. As the door swung open the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. The smell of rusty iron FILLED the air and I can taste the blood as it pooled in the back of my throat. I was gagging before Cynthia handed me a filter mask which seemed to solve the problem. We went inside with a pair of buckets and mops. The horror I saw was nigh unspeakable. Blood and viscera covered the walls with bits and pieces of flesh hanging from the ceiling. The blood on the floor was draining into the drain on the floor. I held back my vomit as we mopped up the remains of this person, this almost took two hours. Cynthia tried to tell me jokes to break the ice and get the mind that I was cleaning someone off the floor. I don't remember much during it as I was disassociating hard maybe to distance myself from the fucked up situation. We were about done when something walked out of the stall... A tall woman with white eyes and an unnaturally large smile. She looked at me and Cynthia while smiling. I can see blood on her mouth and her teeth were very sharp looking. She bent down toward me slowly while she was doing so I can hear her bones creaking and popping in and out of place. This woman... this thing spoke to me. "Oh honey, I'm sorry for all of this mess. Hope you have a wonderful night now!" She laughed a little. As she was walking out she had to crouch low to clear the doorway. I never saw her after this. Cynthia looked at me in shock and I can see the sweat bead down her forehead. "You....you are so lucky she didn't kill you..." She blurted out in relief. "What!? What do you mean?" I blurted out in surprise. "She is one of the "regulars". A set of beings who never speak to us and are extremely dangerous. Only people who they speak to or who speak to them they kill and devour on the spot. The reason we lock the doors is to keep anyone from speaking to her as she always appears here at 3 am. For some reason, she didn't want to eat you..." I was in shock and couldn't speak... I almost died? Why was I ignored? These things rang through my head and I lost track of time and before I knew it Cynthia was snapping at my face. "Hey, newbie! You there?" She sounded upset "Uh, yea... what happened?" I asked "Not much... you decided to blackout but I got the rest cleaned up. I understand this job pays well but there is some fucked up shit that goes down here." She laughed a little as she rang the mop out and a flood of crimson liquid poured into the bucket. Cynthia and I started to walk down to the first theater on the left and waited for the customers to leave. They were watching the new marvel movie and I can hear the ending credits roll. Surprisingly no one stayed for the inevitable end credit scene but I wasn't going to question it. We walked in and we tried to clean up as fast as possible. It was almost five minutes when the screen went black and we can hear the film slowly shutting off. The sound of the lights shutting off one by one echoed through the theater. "RUN! GET OUT." Cynthia screamed in fear and sprinted past me. I didn't question and just ran. All of a sudden she tripped and started to cry and scream "NO NO NO NO I DON'T WANNA DIE" It was then I saw a tall, pale humanoid being crawl out of the screen. This figure bolted toward Cynthia, knocking me down in the process. I can see this thing crawling over her body. It quickly covered her mouth with some of its flesh. I saw it slowly start to meld with Cynthia. It pressed its body against Cynthia slowly "absorbing" her. The pain and fear in her eyes showed how much she was terrified. I couldn't move... it was as if my flight or fight response was completely broken and my body was unsure what to do... All of Cynthia was inside of this thing... It then twitched its head toward me and slowly moved toward me... It stopped in front of me staring at my eyes... It felt like a century passed while we locked eyes... It then looked toward the film screen and started to crawl back into it as the lights began to flicker on. It was only but a few minutes later when I can hear customers mindlessly shamble into the theater... It was only 30 minutes before I can clock out. I decided to go to the bathroom and sit on the toilet to take a breath. I didn't know how to process these things and in no time I heard my phone buzzing at the time. It was finally 7 am... Time to leave. I ran to the clock to sign out. I had never been so relieved to go home and before I can leave the front door Tiaman walked in and stopped me. "Ah, how was your first night? Where is Cynthia?" He asked "I uh... She's gone...She was attacked by the thing on the movie screen" Looking back this is all I could say? This was a nightmare but oddly enough he looked at me seriously and said. "Hmm... That's not good. So you were able to make it out huh?" He asked as he scratched his head "Not really... I fell and the thing just stared at me after ... fuck... absorbing Cynthia.." I said while trying to hold back my feelings. "You... survived? Interesting. Well hey, kiddo what if I told you I am going to promote you and triple your wage if you stay working here? I'll do it starting tomorrow" He spoke with confidence and grandiose. "Let me sleep on it... is that ok? I need to get home and sleep." I said shakingly. "Of course! Sleep it off and come back. We will be eagerly waiting." He waved me off and started to walk toward the exit. I got home and immediately vomited... I have never been so terrified in my life... The money is going to be amazing but... I don't want to die... But it doesn't seem like I would... Tell me... have you ever seen the devil?... I feel like last night I have... Anyways, stay safe out there people for you never know what is lurking in the shadows.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vn67n/i_work_as_a_custodian_for_a_247_theater_with_some/

scarystories

CrimsonBayonet

A promise

Hi baby, wake up.. listen baby, I wanted to apologise about last night, it's just..... you know,, love makes you crazy and I'am really in love with you. but starting from today every thing is going to change, today I'll make you a promise. I promise I will never hurt you or cheat on you, I promise I'll stay with you for ever. can you do the same my love? Please honey, I need you to promise that you will stay with me for ever. Ohh, sorry, I forgot to remove the ducktape.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vub4g/a_promise/

scarystories

mrmm555

Lights out. I’m

This day 06/1/2009 I will never forget me and my brother were having fun and playing games as usual. Except we were home alone and we stopped early to get something to eat. We were both In the kitchen getting snacks and talking then he stopped and started staring at something. I said “What are you looking at dummy,” he said nothing let’s go upstairs. Something didn’t feel right to me when we got upstairs I asked him if he saw anything. When he went to go speak but the power went out. We both looked at each other and I ran to go lock the door because I heard walking up the stairs. I told him to tell me what he saw. He said that he didn’t know it looked like a dog but then it disappeared. He calls my dad immediately. He told us to stay put I heard him say to my mom its back. My brother asked them what was back he said quietly don’t yell and do not open the door we will. We will be there as fast as we can he hung up the phone. 20 minutes later we heard my mom saying it’s safe to come out now my brother ran to the door I tackled him to the ground.” you idiot they told us they will open the door” ever that thing was said “It’s me come on open the door stop playing games” it sounded like it was getting angrier it started to get more aggressive and started screaming and started to break the door down then it had gone quiet we had heard both of our parents saying it’s ok to come out and my brother, of course, open the door like the idiot he is. That thing wasn’t our parents I ran into the bathroom in his room And jumped out the window I had broken an arm and my parents just got there. I still have nightmares of the screams of him getting ripped apart.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vx8si/lights_out_im/

scarystories

Brokenstealth2x

Amongst The Radishes

“You bleedin’ moron! That’s not a radish! That’s a human girl!” I heard the Unseelie creature squawk out as he gesticulated wildly down towards me. I had been bound up, gagged, and tossed on top of a cart overflowing with radishes the size of apples. They were all bright and shiny reds, pinks, purples and blues, looking more like Easter eggs than root vegetables. One of my neighbours, Mrs. Clarion, had been growing them since long before I was born. Nearly her entire backyard had been turned into a radish garden, with only some flower beds and shrubs skirting the perimeter and a small corner dedicated to an assortment of other household staples. I had asked her more than once over the years what on Earth she needed with so many radishes, and each time she had always replied ‘The Fair Folk’s blessings do not come cheap’. I believed her the first time she said this, stopped believing it when I got a little older, and then abruptly started believing it again when I caught one of them skulking amongst the radishes under the light of a full moon. I hadn’t realized he was a fairy at first, of course. From a distance, I just thought it was a skinny and shabby vagrant raiding a local garden for food. Since I was so close to both home and friendly neighbours, I was perhaps bolder than a girl my age should have been in that situation. I stormed into the garden, waving my phone around, threatening to call the cops if the trespasser didn’t get the hell out of our neighbourhood. Only when he looked up at me did I remember that many old folk tales have supernatural beings, from mischievous pucks to Saint Peter himself, disguised as beggars to test the virtue of the unwary. And I, it seemed, had just failed. I saw a set of gold-fleck, obsidian eyes gleaming in the moonlight, set deeply into a protruding and elongated face. His skin was a dull and orcish green, his nose long and his ears pointed, his cheekbones sharp as knives and high as bell towers, and his dirty white hair hung about him in a tangle of unkempt dreadlocks. He was leaning on what looked like a shepherd's crook with a carved-out radish dangling from it, a free-floating flame with no apparent source burning brightly inside the hollow. I was so stunned by the being’s undeniably inhuman appearance that I just gawked at him for a moment, and he took advantage of my inaction to swipe my legs out from under me with his cane. Even though he looked decrepit, he moved with a surprising amount of speed and grace, bouncing about as if he could refuse to obey gravity on a whim. I was helpless as he tied me up without a word and threw me into the cart with the rest of his haul. Mustering what seemed to be all of his might, he began pushing his heavily-laden cart over to the doors that I had always assumed led to Mrs. Clarion’s root cellar, but what I could now see was actually a set of rails that plunged deep into the Earth. I screamed as loud as I could for help, but the gag muffled me enough that no one was able to hear me. As soon as the cart was on the track, the Hobgoblin-thing groaned in relief and hopped on the back. With a tap of his cane, the cart began rolling forward. Slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed as it chugged deeper and deeper underground, until we were barrelling down the tunnel at a breakneck pace. Every time we spun around a sharp bend, I was sure the cart was going to capsize and kill us both, but whatever fairy magic was pushing it forward also held it and its contents firmly to the track. The only light came from the flame dangling from the goblin’s cane, so I couldn’t see very far ahead. It felt like we made a lot of turns though, and I know we passed by at least a couple of junctions, implying the existence of a vast network of Unseelie tracks crisscrossing far below the surface. When we finally started slowing down, we came out into a vast cavern filled with stockpiled radishes, some of the heaps reaching all the way up to the ceiling. The cave was lit by thousands of hollowed radishes dangling from the stalactites by dewdrop-laden threads of gossamer that fractured their light into fractal rainbows. I saw hordes of Unseelie busily carving out radishes and spooning out the insides into wooden tubs so that they could be stomped into what I could only assume was some kind of godawful goblin wine. My captor meticulously tried to steer his cart through all the ruckus and rumpus towards one of the great radish heaps, but was stopped by one of his fellow Fair Folk; the one who had so astutely pointed out that I was not a radish. Acknowledging my presence for the first time since he bound me up, he glared down at me in the firelit gloom of the cavern. He was squinting tightly, as though he was trying to weigh his comrade’s accusation that I was not, in fact, a radish. “Are you sure?” he asked at last, looking back over to the other Fey. “She’s awfully red in the face. And she was awfully concerned about the welfare of all these radishes here, which seems to me an odd state to be in if you yourself do not also happen to be a radish. She might be a radish, Nullthorn, she just might.” “Haymswitch; radishes do not have faces to be red in, they do not have minds to be concerned or voices to speak said concerns, and most notably they do not have mouths to gag or limbs to bind!” Nullthorn sighed, his voice heavy with exasperation. “Now hold up just a minute, there,” Haymswitch objected. I could tell by the look on his face that he was in the process of concocting some kind of hair-brained excuse for bringing me down to this mystical *undirheim* of theirs. “Mandrakes are root vegetables, just like radishes, if you follow me. Mandrakes dream of being human, and if they dream hard enough their roots start to take on a human form. You pull ’em out of the ground before they’ve turned all the way and they’re known to get awfully ornery, just like this young lass was. I don’t think it’s completely inconceivable that a radish might accomplish something similar, once in a Blue Moon or so, especially when there’s fairy magic involved. We could have an exceptionally rare and successful instance of self-willed transmogrification on our hands here.” “She hardly looks like she just crawled out of the ground,” Nullthorn said, looking me up and down with an incredulous eye. “And what about her clothes and makeup and that little gizmo on her wrist there?” “What about them?” Haymswitch shrugged. “Roots grow around discarded human bric-a-brac all the time. It’s no wonder. None at all. She’d be attracted to them, if anything.” God knows how much longer he’d have carried on with this nonsense, had my frustration with it not grown strong enough to overcome my shock and terror with the surreal situation he had dragged into. “I’m not a radish!” I tried to scream through my gag, my voice of course coming out muffled and muted. They both looked down at me, Haymswitch with alarm and Nullthorn in mild but still irritated vindication. “She just said that she’s not a radish,” Nullthorn insisted. “You don’t know that. She’s got a gag in her mouth,” Haymswitch countered. “She could be saying anything. She might have said ‘time for hot haggis’, or ‘fine lot of catfish’, or even ‘Sublime yachts are rubbish’. It’s impossible to tell.” “I’m not a radish!” I screamed as loud as I could. I was thrashing against my bindings now, and I could feel the knots around my wrists starting to come loose. “She’s clearly saying that she’s not a damn radish!” Nullthorn shouted. “We’ll of course she is. She spent all that time in the dirt dreaming of being something more, it feels so real,” Haymswitch claimed. “What do you think mandrakes are screaming about when you pull them out of the soil? About how they’re not bleedin’ mandrakes! That’s what I’d wager.” “Haymswitch, would you please stop wasting both our time and just admit you got caught?” Nullthorn sighed. “Oy, you’re taking her word over mine? That’s a bloody outrage, it is!” Haymswitch declared. “Between her and me, which one of us do you really think has the most incentive to lie about whether or not she’s a radish?” “You, because you’re the one who got caught harvesting the radishes!” “Exactly, I was harvesting radishes! I harvested her; therefore, ergo, forthwith, *ipso facto, et tu Brutus*, she’s a radish! Why would I have brought her back here if she wasn’t?” “Oy, Haymswitch! What’s that you got there?” one of the other Unseelie asked. I noticed that a crowd of them had started to form around us. Whether it was due to my presence or just Haymswitch’s bizarre ramblings, I’m not entirely sure. “A radish!” Haymswitch replied without the slightest hesitation. “Don’t you know a radish when you see one, Gingsly?” Gingsly stared down at me, skeptically arching an eyebrow. “I dare say I do; and that, Haymswitch, t’ain’t no radish. That there’s a human girl, if ever I saw one,” he replied. “That’s what I told him!” Nullthorn agreed. “I’m not a radish!” I shouted again, though I regretted drawing attention to myself since I was now nearly free of my ropes. “Radish says what?” Haymswitch mumbled. “What?” I heard someone in the crowd shout back, prompting Nullthorn to shake his head in frustration. “Haymswitch; enough. You’re not fooling anyone. You’ve got to take her back up,” he ordered. “Hold on now, hold on. Let’s talk about this for a tick,” Haymswitch pleaded. “What if we just throw her on the heap for now and see if she takes?” “She is not going on the radish heap, Haymswitch!” “Why not?” “Because she’s not a radish!” “And we can’t have unprofessionals mucking around amongst the radishes. It will cause an avalanche; or worse, a stampede!” Gingsly claimed. “Toss her in an empty cart and haul her back up to the surface.” “Oy, we can’t send her back now, lads! She’s seen too much of our clandestine, arcane operations!” Haymswitch claimed. “We can’t risk her telling others! They’ll send the Grimms down after us for sure! It’s obvious what we’re up to!” All the goblins looked at each other uncertainly, and then around at the convoluted setup they had created for themselves. “…Is it?” one of them finally asked. “I know this place like the back of my hand and I’m still not a hundred percent sure what we’re doing,” another chimed in. By now I had managed to wriggle loose from my ropes, but as I tried to get up, I caused the pile of radishes I was lying on to slide out of the cart and dump me onto the ground with them. Though the Unseelie seemed startled by my sudden escape, none of them made a move against me. I quickly scrambled to my feet before any of them could change their minds, pulling the gag out of my mouth with my now free hand. “I am not a radish!” I shouted clearly for the first time. “…Well why didn’t you say so?” Haymswitch asked innocently. “Nullthorn, it seems I’ve unknowingly picked up a stowaway. What’s say we see her on her way then, why doncha?” Sighing and shaking his head again, Nullthorn took a cautious step towards me with his hands held up in a non-threatening gesture. “Just stay calm, kid. No one’s going to hurt you,” he said as gently as he could in his gravelly, crackling voice. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this. Haymswitch was supposed to just vanish if he got caught and come back for his harvest when the coast was clear. But he’s an idiot, and tossed you into his cart instead. Just step into one of the empty carts and I’ll have one of my workers, not Haymswitch, take you back home.” “No! No, stay back! I’m not letting any of you take me anywhere!” I screamed, picking up a radish and holding it as threateningly as I could; which wasn’t very much, considering it was a radish. “Fine, have it your way. If you want to go wandering up the tracks yourself in the hopes of finding the door you came through, be our guest,” Nullthorn said. “We’ve got better things to do than fight with you.” “Well, we have other things to do. I don’t necessarily know about better,” Gingsly added. “Can it! The break’s over! All of you get back to work this instant! I want every new radish shined and sorted by sun-up!” Nullthorn barked. “No! I’m not going to wander through goblin tunnels by myself!” I shouted. “You are going to magic me back home right now or, or… I will knock down that huge pile of radishes!” “What do you mean ‘magic you back?’ What would we be using these tracks for if we could do something like that?” Nullthorn asked. “Kid, either one of us drives you back up in a cart, or you’re on your own.” I cocked my arm, ready to chuck the radish I was holding into a particularly large and precarious pile of radishes that I judged to be within throwing distance. Nullthorn’s reaction was once again one of exasperation, and he seemed to just be waiting for me to get it over with. Infuriated, and already close to vomiting on the overpowering stench of radishes, I threw the one I was holding into the pile. It landed dead center, and sent a few more radishes tumbling, but the pile otherwise remained intact. Nullthorn just shook his head and started to walk away, and I picked up another radish with the intention of throwing it at the back of his head. We were both stopped in our tracks by the sound of more radishes falling loose from the pile. I had expected to see radishes falling from the top half of the pile, but instead, I saw them rolling out from the bottom. They hadn’t been pulled down by gravity but were apparently being propelled by some kind of magical force, and they were rolling towards me. “Stampede!” Gingsly shouted, sending all the goblins into a panic as they frantically fled in the opposite direction. Not fully realizing the danger I was in, I simply stepped backwards, thinking that the radishes would lose momentum before they could get to me. To my dismay, they actually picked up speed despite the flat floor they were on; and the faster they moved, the more radishes from the pile joined them. With a yelp I threw the radish I was holding at them, only for them to weave out of its path before honing back in on my position. I broke into a sprint and began searching desperately for any form of safety I could get to. I noticed that the goblins had all gotten off the floor and hauled themselves up onto elevated platforms built into the cavern walls or suspended from the ceiling, but a radish stampede still wasn’t enough to make me want to throw my lot in with theirs. Instead, I hopped into one of the carts, hoping that would be sufficient high ground against the onslaught of heel-high terrors. I made it in just as the tsunami of radishes slammed into its back end. The cart lurched forward, but the radishes quickly circled around it and cut it off from the other side. They piled up higher and higher, and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before they started pouring into the cart. I was completely surrounded, with no way of escape other than just plowing straight through them. Haymswitch had controlled his cart with his shepherd's crook, and I saw that this one had a similar cane holstered to the rear end. Without a second thought, I grabbed it and started banging the outside of the cart with it as hard as I could. The cart immediately bolted forward, squashing the radishes in front of it and sending me slamming into the rear wall. When I looked up I saw that the radishes had resumed the chase and were rolling after me in hot pursuit. The steering stick had flown out of my hand when the cart accelerated, so the only way I could steer it now was by shifting my weight around. And I had no way to slow down. My only hope was that the cart would stop on its own when it reached its destination. The rickety track had me bobbing up and down and nearly threw me out of the cart altogether. When I looked behind me again to see if I was at least making any progress in escaping the radishes, I saw that not only were they still chasing me but that the goblins had joined the pursuit as well. They rode along the tracks on contraptions that resembled Penny-farthing bicycles, and were trying to lasso what I could only assume was the alpha radish at the head of the pack. I whipped my head around to look forward, and saw that the cart was heading towards a giant heap of rancid, rotting radishes. There were no other tracks for me to switch to, so if I didn’t jump, a collision was imminent. But even if I survived the jump, I’d be crushed by the radishes that were chasing me. With no good options left to me, I braced myself for impact while banging the walls of the cart with my feet, screaming for it to stop. It didn’t listen, and I slammed into the mushy, fetid pile at full speed. The viscous concoction was enough to slow me to a stop, as well as shield me from the pelting radishes coming from behind, but the stench was overwhelming and within a matter of seconds I had fallen completely unconscious. When I woke up, I was gagged and bound again, but realized to some relief that I was back on the surface. “I’m just saying that was what you would most definitely call an atypical reaction,” I heard Haymswitch say, and saw that I had been slung over his shoulder and that he was carrying me through Mrs. Clarion’s radish garden. “Why would they chase after her like that if she wasn’t one of their own? I don’t care how many limbs or eyes or whatever other non-radish parts she may have, I still think that she could very well be some heretofore unknown specimen of radish, or at the very least some sort of crossbreed.” “Haymswitch,” Nullthorn huffed, barely hanging on to his last thread of patience. “Shut up.” Haymswitch set me down by Mrs. Clarion’s back door, and Nullthorn pounded on it in a secret knock before the two of them ran back off down the track, shutting the cellar doors behind them. A moment later, the back porch light came on, and Mrs. Clarion opened her door to find me tied up on her welcome mat, covered in stinking radish mulch. Though she did look alarmed, she didn’t help me immediately. Instead, she picked up a letter that had been pinned to my ropes and made a point of reading it aloud. *“Mrs. C, we recovered this during this Moon’s radish harvest. After extensive debate amongst ourselves, we were unable to come to a unanimous conclusion as to whether or not it constitutes a radish (though we do note that it fervently maintains that it is not). Regardless, it induced a severe adverse reaction in our strategic radish stockpiles and subsequently compromised the organic certification of our compost heap. As such, I’m afraid we cannot accept it as part of your sacrifice and return it to your care in (approximately) the same condition we received it. Regards, Nullthorn.”* With a sigh, she lowered the letter, and glared down at me in mild annoyance. “Young lady, what on earth were you doing in my radish garden at this [time](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheVespersBell/) [of](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCrypticCompendium/) [night](https://www.reddit.com/r/Odd_directions/)?”

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vrnfy/amongst_the_radishes/

scarystories

A_Vespertine

We came on Vacation At My Wife's Insistence, Leaving Our horses behind, and Now I think She's Going to Murder Me

The fierce Southern sun beats mercilessly on the stupid flimsy umbrella. The sound of the crashing waves is making me slight nauseous, or may all that rich food we are being force-fed every two hours. This is supposed to be a fancy resort, and I can't believe I let Mattie talk me into this. I have never felt so miserable in my life. I miss our horses, particularly Spice and Char so bad it hurts, and I never knew it was possible to physically hurt from missing something. Spice is so beautiful- that glossy golden-brown coat, and so spirited. We have customers who drive hundreds of miles just for the pleasure of riding her for a couple of hours. I hope Elias is brushing her properly but I don't think so. Elias is a lazy slob, coming from a line of lazy slobs, as my poor departed dad used to say. He hated Elias and his family, and would have never let them within an inch of his stables, let alone entrusting them to their hands for a whole week while he went on a stupid resort. I don't think my dad had had a day off in his life, as I told Mattie repeatedly. She had yelled at me. "Those damn horses!" "They're our bread and butter Mattie!" I had shouted back. "And besides, you love them too" She had replied in a softer voice "Yes, of course I do. But I need a break. And Elias is perfectly capable who knows our horses. He will take good care of them while we are gone." She drew close to me and looped her arms around my neck "And maybe you and I... can find a little time for each other..." she smiled, and for a moment she looked like the girl I had married. I should have known then and there. Nobody in their right mind could call Elias capable. But Mattie sure seemed to think so. And here we were. I frowned and my stomach churned. None of that sweet-talking led to anything anyway. Mattie is always running around half-naked on the beach- if my poor dad could see her he would turn in his grave. I closed my eyes. All this free time, at home we work dawn to dusk tending the horses, and now I had a moment to think. Things were starting to fall in place. I hate Mattie. I hate Elias. Mattie comes up to me, glistening wet. She's a big strong girl, working on farms and around horses all her life. Her exposed skin makes me uncomfortable. For a minute I see Char's black shining backside and wish I could rub my hands on the thick soft fur. "C'mon you old badger!" cries Mattie. "Get in the water with me- it's amazing! There are these rocks- we can jump off them- it's incredible!" There's no way I am getting in that sea, and not with her. She's a swimmer, she could easily hold me under water. Certainly I am not going to be jumping off any rocks with her. I haven't worked hard all my life on my family farm, to leave it to Mattie and fucking Elias. "I'm going back to our room for a nap Mattie- I don't feel so good" I mumble, dragging myself up from the stripey beach chair. "Rest up- remember we're going on a cliffside walk to watch the sunset in a couple hours!" she cries as I walk away. Mattie and Elias. "Elias can take care of the horses!" "Let Elias help you with Spice!" "Elias can take Char for her morning gallop!" Elias and my horses. I lie back in the chilled hotel bed. One of us is going down that cliffside.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vfu7l/we_came_on_vacation_at_my_wifes_insistence/

scarystories

1000andonenites

The Wanderer (Made Up)

The Wanderer Lily and Gabbe were wandering in the forest, they were heading to the city of Wellerman which would take 1 week. They hade just sold a lot of materials in one of the nearby towns and earned quite a buck. Half way back to there home they noticed that they didn’t bring enought food for the journey! They fought about conserving but noticed that they would not make it since it was so little left. Then Lily asked Gabbe: \-What should we do? \-We will just have to continue and eat some berries along the way, responds Gabbe. Lily nodes in a sad way and they continue. 1 Day before reaching home, they were very exhausted and hungry and they even started fighting for berries. But then they meet a wanderer or savior in there eyes. He said he hade food and they got very happy, but then he showed some seeds which made them losse all hope. The Wanderer notice there disappointment and quickly clearified that they were magical and could feed you for 3 days. Lily and Gabbe immediatly asked for the bean but it was not for free, the Wanderer said each bean is 5 gold and a small amount of blood. Lily and Gabbe were suprised how expensive they were but without a choice they accepted and gave the payment. 1 day later… Lily and Gabbe reached the town feeling well and energetic. They walked to a guild and payed for there licenses before going home. They ate dinner, showered, counted the left over money and went to sleep. A Happy ending right? In the middle of the night Lily heard sounds in the kiitchen and went to see that it was. She went to Gabbe’s room to wake him up and tell him about the noice bu the wasn’t there. She fought he was down there and went to ask what he was doing up this late at night. She went into the kitchen asking what he was doing but got horrified to see her best friend as a monster and before she could do anything it saw here leeting out a horrorfing scream. Then a girls scream echode through out the night. The next day… A party who hade just returned from a mission got back home but were suprised to see it destroyed. They ran to find survivors and find out what happened and then they see it… A horrorfying army of monsters that killed and ate people, then the monsters noticed them and ran towards them… Countrys heard about what happened and blew up the entire town or what was left of it. And thats the end of the story of the traggic accident of Wellerman city. ​ This story was made personally by me!

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vhw4u/the_wanderer_made_up/

scarystories

LukeLikeNuke

My Teeth Fell Out

I had a nightmare one night that I was eating soup, and one of my front teeth fell right out of my mouth and into the bowl of soup. I immediately woke up and felt my mouth to make sure I still had all my teeth. I did, but the same one that fell out felt a little loose. Later that same day, I was in a Zoom meeting with my boss when he pointed out my mouth was bleeding. The same tooth from my dream was now hanging by a thread as well. I immediately called my dentist, and they were fortunately able to see me the same day. "Everything looks great. Your gums are in excellent health. No cavities. Did you experience any blunt trauma? Get hit in the mouth?" "No, sir." "Did you ever have braces or aligners? If those are not done properly, it can cause what we call short roots." "No, I never have." "Huh, well, let me know if you think of anything unusual that you're leaving out. Teeth don't just fall out on their own. You didn't piss off the tooth fairy, did you? Anyway, in the meantime, let's schedule an appointment for a prosthetic to fix that smile." I wish that were the end of the story, but a week before I was to go back for that appointment, I had another dream in which I was sitting in my office chair at work wiggling both of the center-most bottom teeth. I was wiggling them nonchalantly as though I were just twiddling my thumbs. All of a sudden, one snapped right out, and I screamed in horror. I woke up unsure if I actually screamed in my sleep. Next, I felt my teeth, and they were fine. I told myself that because of the issue with the tooth I lost earlier, it was normal to have more dreams about this. How could it not be in the back of my mind, right? With those reassurances, I fell back asleep. I awoke with my hand in my mouth and a snapping sensation. Blood was flowing out of my mouth. The pain was incredible. I was freaking the fuck out. I called off work. I never had a panic attack before, but I think that might be what I felt in that moment. The following night, I put a bag over my hands and zip-tied them together. I wasn't looking forward to awkwardly explaining all this to my dentist or the cost of dentures. Being in my mid-thirties and around mid-life crisis age, that also made me feel insecure. Still, at least I could stave off further damage. This approach worked well for a few weeks until one night I had a dream that I was breaking my teeth on marbles. I woke up with two marbles in my mouth. I hope to God you never dream as I do. I also know a tired mind is susceptible to suggestion. So, if you are reading this before bed, I recommend watching a funny tv show or reading a book so this isn't the last thing you think of before you fall asleep.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15v2mzi/my_teeth_fell_out/

scarystories

WhadayaBuyinStranger

I knew my neighbors were crazy, but not that crazy...

Last night I heard wild screams from the neighbors above. It seemed that they were killing each other... It was very scary and strange. This has never happened before. I'm going to ask relatives if they've heard this.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vdywo/i_knew_my_neighbors_were_crazy_but_not_that_crazy/

scarystories

Neat_Current_3954

Teen Loses It After Hearing Her Sentence

https://youtu.be/HZMWhutxUb0

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vmvl8/teen_loses_it_after_hearing_her_sentence/

scarystories

Macmarcdo

Frozen Descent: The Tragic Tale of Malgorn, The Frostbound Wendigo

In a frozen wilderness, whispers spoke of Malgorn, The Frostbound Wendigo, born from a shaman's greed for power. Lost hunters feared his chilling presence, icy blue eyes, and an icy labyrinth where he lurked. Among the villagers lived a simple soul, Aiden, burdened by the loss of his brother to Malgorn's curse. Ignorant of the Wendigo's weakness, Aiden's despair grew, festering in the isolation of his grief. Driven by sorrow, Aiden entered the icy labyrinth alone. The whispers swirled around him, offering false comforts and leading him astray. Malgorn's illusions deepened his agony, tearing away his sanity as the cold clawed at his heart. Desperation turned to madness as Aiden's mind unraveled. He met Malgorn face to face, his humanity vanishing in a haze of terror. The Wendigo's power overcame him, consuming his soul, and his form twisted to match the Wendigo's own. The village mourned the loss of Aiden, forever trapped in the curse that consumed him. Malgorn's power grew, his icy grasp extending further, his legend echoing through the icy wilderness. And so, the tragic tale of Aiden and Malgorn serves as a chilling reminder of the darkness that lurks within the human heart and the relentless grasp of the Frostbound Wendigo.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vkw2c/frozen_descent_the_tragic_tale_of_malgorn_the/

scarystories

UnlockIsHere

The human sized backwoods' tried to touch me

This all started one day when I was going to the gas station to buy some delta 8 gas station weed and a pack of backwoods. While I was walking there I seen a strange looking figure staring at me out of the corner of my eye I seen him walking towards me I was so scared. as soon as I seen him walking towards me I started running like a Nikos next bot and didn't even look back as I make it to the gas station I see it I don't know how but he was just there its almost as if it just teleported. As soon as I seen him I knew what it was it was a human sized backwoods' I was scared to death I tried running away nut he just kept catching up to me so I just decided to stop running and try to talk to it but it had no mouth or eyes so my next move was to fight it. I punched it but it had had no reactions and then I found out its true intentions it wanted to touch my family Jules and then I realized I greened out and was hallucinating it all and was still at the gas station looking at the hot Cheetos.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15v7siq/the_human_sized_backwoods_tried_to_touch_me/

scarystories

Business-Mess-9399

Strange shadow

This story is not as scared as really creepy. Once my dad were with his friend in abandoned house in the village. Roof of it was partly broken and on one side of it you can see a big field with old farms ruins. It all happened at deep night. My dad was on the upper at looked at the field. And he randomly looked at the left and saw a big dark shadow. It might was not creepy, because it could be an animal. Bit the weirdest was that it at first walked on all fours and then it ot up on the back daps and went. It walked across all the field and disappeared in the nearest forest. My dad told me that this situation was very creepy and scary. There was no way he could decided who it was.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15vbmxz/strange_shadow/

scarystories

NeZur

I ate my dog.

I had just turned 10, and all I had ever wished for, for my birthday, was a golden retriever puppy. My parents would have to listen to me complain and ask over and over for a dog day by day, second by second, they never gave in. Yet I never stopped trying. But when my birthday came around, I was sure I would get the dog I had dreamt of my entire life. I went to bed the night before giggling and shaking in excitement for the next day, knowing I had a great chance at getting a new dog. I say new because I already have one dog, an old chihuahua named rosc, he was older than I was at the time. I wasn’t able to sleep that night knowing that I could be getting a dog, so, I quietly got up out of bed, tip toed into my kitchen to get a snack, as I reached out for the fridge door, i couldn’t help but over hear my parents talking about taking me out to eat, I got exited, but then..my mom said, “we can’t afford to get him that dog this year with us already having rosc” I got angry. That stupid old dog got in the way of my chances. I ran back to my room shaking and crying in anger. But then I had the “ best “ idea 10 year old me had ever thought of. When my mom made food I didn’t like, I fed it to the dog, so since I didn’t like my dog what if I fed it to myself? I was sure that was the most genius idea in the world. Now I regret it more than anything. I took my dads hammer out of my garage and grabbed my dog, I skipped out to the yard, went to the shed out back, and got to work. It tried running. it yelped in horror and pain but I never stopped. I cut his stomach open to see what was lingering inside of it. Suddenly filled with a raging hunger feeling, I began to feast. My parents had heard the dog whine and yelp so they had come outside to check out what it was about. They yelled my name, I opened the shed door. Smiling. Big and wide. With blood all over me. My mom screamed in horror. My dad threw up. I was sent to an institution from then on until now, I’m better now, much much better, but I’m still haunted by the memory of what I had done back then.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15uunbl/i_ate_my_dog/

scarystories

Main_Finding_8536

Cat Exorcist

The reek of urine and musk of earth assaulted the senses of Father MacIsaac and Father Antony as they entered the bedroom. A young boy lay sprawled across bed, the sheets soiled brown, his clothes torn, his hands and feet lashed to the frame. His yellow eyes flickered as they approached, a growl rumbled from him. They watched a large bulge swell at the base of his throat. Sitting up, he choked and gagged as his neck distended, each heave pushing the swelling upward. He lurched forward, impossibly distending his jaw to vomit out a dead hairless pup. The priests laid out leather-bound tomes of sacred literature and a crucifix. Father MacIsaac began reciting the exorcist liturgy. He approached the bed, holding rosaries out towards the boy. The boy’s eyes fixed on rosaries. Snapping forward, he bit the small crucifix off the dangling beads, crunching down on the metal cross and spitting out broken bits. Outside in the hallway Father MacIsaac rubbed the broken rosaries through his fingers deep in thought. Father Antony paced. “That can’t happen. Demons can’t willing touch consecrated objects”, said Father Antony. “Are you familiar with animalistic demons?” asked Father MacIsaac. “No.” “They’re their own class of spirit. They are to most demons what wild animals are to us.” Father MacIsaac turned away and quickly descended the stairs. “Where are you going? “St.Sebastian’s of Mercy, we need an expert.” “But that’s Father Watterson’s parish. He’s not an expert on the occult.” “Not him. We’re getting Father Mittens. Are you coming?” An hour later, Father Antony reopened the door to the boy’s room, stepping aside to let Father MacIsaac enter carrying Father Mittens, a tabby cat with white paws dressed in a cat-sized black robe and white collar. Placing Father Mittens on the floor, Father MacIsaac took out two books, handing one to Father Anthony. “Father Anthony read aloud with me, and don’t stop until I tell you.” Both men began reciting Latin verses and Father Mittens jumped onto the foot of the bed. The boy snapped forward to attack, pulling fiercely against his bonds, the bed frame creaked but the restrains held. Father Mitten’s ears pulled back as he hissed at the boy. The boy bared his teeth and let out the roar of a horrible beast. For a moment they stayed motionless, glaring at each other. With a savage yowl Father Mittens leapt forward digging his claws into the boy’s ripped pyjamas. The boy thrashed about, but couldn’t pull away. The boy roared as Father Mittens snarled and howled in his face. A swilling dark mist poured upwards from the boy’s mouth and nose. Father Mittens’ watched it until it dissipated and the boy slumped back onto the bed. When Father MacIsaac told Father Antony to stop reading aloud, Father Mitten lay on the boy’s chest loudly purring. Father MacIsaac walked over and scratched Father Mitten’s chin joined quickly by Father Antony.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15v5r5l/cat_exorcist/

scarystories

Stranger_at_Night

The Skin Man

In 1998, I really wanted to become a specialist in demonic history. My university had a religious studies department and one professor was an expert on cults and witchcraft in particular. Yet, she never seemed to be in her office or run any classes.  I won't give you her name because she wouldn't want it shared, but she saved my life, and maybe more.  So while I'm obviously forever grateful to her now, before I finally met her, I was not a fan. In fact, her unavailability frustrated me to no end. I was only an undergrad in third year, but I wanted to do what she did. Namely, I wanted to study everything dark about religions throughout the world and history.  But she wasn't around to speak with and her book I found terribly confusing - my own poor reading comprehension was the culprit behind that difficulty.  So I sought out other texts and met with other professors. All were interesting but didn't possess the specific knowledge I craved, which I started to doubt even existed. A little desperate, I sought help from the Divinity College on campus. The receptionist couldn't understand exactly what I wanted and I was vague on purpose. It's not easy to tell people you want to learn about demons, especially in a religious setting. The Divinity School is Baptist and not affiliated at all with the religious studies program I was enrolled in. They approached the content as believers in God. We were just students with an academic interest and were often, in my experience, atheists. A pastor eventually agreed to a brief meeting in his office. I won't give you his real name either because he's a nice guy. Let's call him Noah because it's biblical and he'll get the joke if he reads this. "You want what?"  He looked concerned.  "This is not a topic to be treated lightly. There are real forces of darkness…"  He took off his glasses, and leaned forward on his desk. I think I must have made a face or rolled my eyes maybe. "Look, you might not believe in them but-" "They believe in me?"  God, I was a little shit.  He sighed. "Something like that."  "So," I said, "Can you help me? Is there a text you'd recommend?"  The pastor chuckled, probably at the entitlement of youth. "Okay, listen, let's make a deal. I'll try to give you some direction, on the condition that you check in with me regularly." "I… uh, why?"  I honestly didn't understand why he couldn't just give me his knowledge on the spot.  "Because you're not the first to have a disrespectful interest in evil." Noah grinned but the expression soon turned to regret. "Malachi Martin wrote about it." "Malachi Martin?"  It sounded like a name one might find in a Marvel comic.  "He's not a Baptist." "Oh."  Why did that matter? Noah's gaze became distant, like he wasn't in the room at all. "Uh, father?" He blinked a few times and finally seemed to recall the kid in his office asking about demons. "I'm not a priest. That's Catholics." "Sorry?" "I'm not Father Noah. I'm just Noah." "Oh. Okay. So you were saying something about Malachi Martin?" "I need to think about it." "Oh, for real?" "I suggest you do the same," he said. "Come back after the weekend, and we'll talk some more, okay?"  I was disappointed. "Okay." But it was better than outright rejection or a prof that skipped her office hours. Noah came around his desk when I stood up, and gave the impression he was going for a hug. He stopped short and extended a hand awkwardly. I shook it but it got weirder because he held on too long. "Be careful. If you can wait, that would be best." He looked seriously concerned, which I thought was kind of funny. Like oooooo the forces of evil are gonna get me.  He was nice though, so I humored him. "I'll be careful." Noah walked behind me to the foyer of the Divinity College and stood in the doorway as I walked across the field to my dorm building. As I fished for my keycard in my backpack, I noticed, in the distance, he was still lingering, watching.  Maybe it'd been a mistake to go there. The pastor was starting to freak me out a little. I acknowledged later that maybe that's what I wanted: To be frightened. I hadn't grown up rich but neither had my family been poor, and my parents worked incredibly hard to keep their children sheltered and protected. Was I just looking for a way to feel vulnerable on my own terms? Like a kid that reads a scary story for an excuse to hide under a blanket?  Pretty sure I shrugged off this train of thought. I wanted what I wanted, and could quit anytime, so I figured my next move was the library. The weekend had arrived. Fridays were usually quiet around the school and neighborhood because most kids made the trek home. My parents were a bit too far for weekly visits, so I stayed on campus to catch up on work and read unless it was a holiday or birthday or something.  I'd been through the library several times, combing it for books and journal articles of interest. The internet was still being figured out in '98. I didn't quite understand what it was yet, and I suspect neither did a lot of people. As a result, the transition from paper to digital was clumsy and made things difficult to find. Often, it was easier to just look on the shelf and hope you found something relevant you could use. The top floor, the sixth, was dedicated to philosophy and religious studies. Students often took naps in the aisles because it was usually deserted and quiet. On a Friday, however, absolutely nobody but me and a skeleton crew of shelvers, giving reminders about the library closing in less than an hour, roamed the huge building.  It felt like I had the books all to myself, and that I owned the library. I took the stairs instead of the elevator because they were made of stone and the railings were carved wood and from when the university had been built a few hundred years ago. Ascending the winding square steps reminded me of a wizard going to his keep. Yes, I am a nerd. In keeping with the medieval-fantasy theme, I skipped the dusty desktop humming away in the dark corner, and searched for anything by Malachi Martin. I didn't change that name. I figure he wouldn't mind because he died the next July in '99.  While he'd written and published a ton of books on the demonic and the Catholic Church, they were mostly from the 70s and not being reprinted. I managed to find a battered copy of Hostage to the Devil, one of his bestsellers, a book William Peter Blatty called an attempt to cash in on the success of The Exorcist movie, which it probably was. From what I eventually learned about Martin, he sounded like a conman.  However, that doesn't mean his books didn't have real impacts and negative consequences, especially on believers and those, like me, athiests pursuing a thrill. I went to my napping spot by the large window overlooking the parking lot and the campus bar, which didn't bother opening on Fridays because there were so few students around. The barren tarmac held in portrait a distant figure deep in his hoodie, bearing the wind with hands in his pockets and his face hidden. I watched them briefly and wondered if they were watching me back. I sat against the wall and stretched out my legs, and started reading. The plan was to read a few pages of Martin's book and see if it was worth borrowing. In less than ten minutes the library would officially be closed. A shelver would then begin the tedious process of ensuring everyone had left. So really I probably had more like thirty minutes before being discovered and asked to leave. It's a big library.  The book was interesting and I found I didn't want to stop reading, not even to go and borrow it. The shelver would be mad if I asked to borrow it after closing, so I got up and then they were there: The figure I'd seen in the parking lot. Their face and hands were still hidden and beneath the humming inconsistency of bluish track light, I found their sudden presence disturbing. "Excuse me," I said, deepening my voice in an attempt to sound stern. They moved aside to let me pass and I went quickly, noting  the liberal amount of an unfamiliar, cloying cologne raiding my nostrils. It made my eyes water.  "Malachi Martin," they said. It was like dealing with a ringwraith out of Tolkien. No, I don't mean their voice was raspy; they spoke from within their hood, being careful, it seemed, to keep their face hidden.  "Yes," I concurred, continuing to move towards the elevator. Big mistake. I should have taken the stairs because now the ringwraith had an excuse to follow me and wait.  "You want his other books? His unpublished papers?"   I stepped away because they were too close and the scent overpowering. His last question, nevertheless, caught my attention.  "Unpublished papers?" The wraith guy chuckled softly. I don't know why I didn't run. "Yes, he wrote a lot. Would you be interested?" "Yes," I admitted. It was the kind of conversation you couldn't be certain had occurred after the fact.  He finally removed his hood and I felt my knees wobble and my face tremble. What I saw wasn't possible: A face of stitched together pieces, skin of dozens, maybe hundreds of people.  Before I could scream, he removed his mask, which really was made from human skin. He placed it carefully inside a plastic, foam lined case. The guy underneath the mask was a student of a rare type: A double major in science and art.  He extended his hand, which I reasonably ignored. "I'm Rory Sallow." Yes, that is his name; apparently, his surname is endangered. Less than twenty people in Canada possessed it at the time of our first introduction. Maybe fewer now.  Sallow is the word people - old people probably- sometimes use to describe an unhealthy complexion. Rory told me, on our ride down the elevator, how his last name had created his fascination with skin. He wanted to eventually become a dermatologist, but also an artist whose primary medium was epidermis.  "It took me almost ten years to create my mask," he said proudly. We stepped off the elevator, and a shelver confronted us immediately. "The library is closed." Neither of us responded, and walked right by to the exit. Outside the library, in the open plaza, he lit up a cigarette and offered me one, which I declined.  "I can get a lot of stuff off the internet," he said. "Like books?" He nodded and exhaled a plume of smoke into the cold night air. "People don't know it yet, but the internet is going to change everything. It already has. The only thing left is to increase the speed and ease of its use for common folk." The way he referred to people as "common" was just my kind of arrogance. We, the academics, were not common. Rory was weird, but all great people were regarded as such until everyone recognized their brilliance. It's ironic when "geniuses" want the admiration of the "common folk" they resent.  "So you said-" "Right, you want books by Malachi?" "Malachi Martin," I gently corrected.  "Right. I can get it. But… there is a price…"  He grinned and drummed his fingers on the plastic case containing his mask.  I tried to keep an open mind. "What exactly are you asking for?" "Isn't it obvious?"  He dropped his butt and stepped on it. "Explain it anyway." I could feel the urge to end the discussion growing. There was danger here but I told myself I wanted to run back to my sheltered life and that, if I kept retreating from the unknown, I would never achieve anything of note. Also, I really wanted the writing he said he could get.  "It's not as gruesome as most imagine." He rolled his eyes as if the following procedure could not be simpler. He would use a biopsy tool to remove a tiny section of skin. "About the size of a pencil eraser." "Sounds fun."  He laughed and I smiled. I was starting to like this weird guy. "It's painless. I'll numb the area with an anesthetic and patch it up after." Rory became more animated as he described what he'd do with the skin. "I flatten it out and glue it to leather of a similar colour. Then I use a sealant to keep it preserved, let it dry and then add it to my mask."  'It's not really all a skin mask then? It's mostly leather?" "Sadly, yes. Nobody seems to like the idea of giving up that much skin." He winked like a goof and I laughed. "So what do you say? Wanna contribute to an art project destined to be famous?" He held out his hand for me to shake, and this time, I took it.  As we firmly shook hands, I thought of geniuses in history that you'd never think were friends: Tesla and Twain. I'm not sure which one I was, or why I'd thought of them specifically. The moment felt important and, unbelievably, I consented. What I didn't understand was that the operation would occur on the spot. Rory had a kit in the satchel on his waist. We sat on the wide plaza stairs while he set up. I rolled up my sleeve and flinched when he brought out the first needle. "Don’t worry," he said. "This is anesthetic. My tools are clean and the needles are never reused. You won't feel anything other than some minor soreness in the fleshy part of your arm." Before I could think about this stupid rash decision, Rory held down my forearm and jabbed me, which hurt. The needle had entered my upper arm, near the left tricep muscle.  "Sorry," he said, "probably should have mentioned the needle might feel like a pinch." He smiled apologetically. "That’s for real the only discomfort. Thanks for doing this." Next, he took out a tool, a small punch, he explained.  "That’s why you said it'd be the size of a pencil eraser," I said. "Exactly. Same shape too." He waited another moment to ensure the anesthetic had taken effect and then applied the tool. Despite the cold air and the wind gusts, I began to sweat. I hoped nobody was watching us for some reason. Maybe because allowing a stranger to perform minor surgery on you is a dumb idea. "Done." He cleaned the area and put a bandaid on it. Then he gave me a small bottle of ibuprofen. "Thanks." He repacked his kit and lit up another cigarette. "I'll have the books and stuff in a week."  "Okay. Do you have a number-" He shook his head and rummaged in his satchel, producing a pad of paper and a pen. With his cigarette clenched between his teeth, he wrote down his Hotmail and had me give him mine. "I can send all the documents if I get them early but I'll also print them up for you, if you want." At the time, I couldn't imagine reading anything on a computer for long periods. Paper was king. "Paper would be preferred but it'd also be a good backup if you emailed them as well."  He nodded. "Okay, see you next Friday. Same spot on the sixth floor, cool?" We shook hands again and he started walking toward the corridor leading around the library, back to the parking lot where I'm sure he was the figure I'd seen from the window. I forgot to ask if he'd seen me too. But he must have. What other explanation could there be for him to come up to my hidey spot? I went back to my dorm room and finally realized I'd borrowed Hostage to the Devil without checking it out. It didn't set off the sensors at the library exit; maybe nobody cared if it got stolen. I read it more until I noticed the ache in my arm and took out Rory's ibuprofen. The bottle ended up being expired, so I thought twice about using the pills inside. Instead, I went down to the campus pharmacy, which was thankfully 24-7.  The student centre contained a cafeteria and a Tim Hortons but everything was closed up and dark. Only the neon pharmacy light offered scant illumination. Even inside the store the track lights were dull and clinical. I didn't see a cashier.  I found the painkillers and glanced toward the cafeteria where a figure appeared to be standing amidst the tables and put-up chairs. It was too dark to see them clearly and, at first, I assumed, my eyes were misinterpreting an object as a person. Like maybe a coat had been left on a mop in a bucket. But then I thought I saw it move slightly, a body shifting weight from one foot to the other. "What the hell?" I said to myself quietly. Hiding seemed like a wise choice because a person standing in the dark could only have bad intentions. But I didn't want to look away either and lose track of them.  "Hello?" I recoiled from the cashier, another student, suddenly at my elbow.  "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," she said, sounding pretty indifferent about it to be honest. "Can I help you find something?" "There's someone out there," I told her. "By the tables. Just standing there." The figure, of course, was no longer there.  "Really?" She appeared slightly more concerned and went to the counter and called campus security without hesitation. "I keep telling my manager the school needs to keep the lights on out there," she said, while we waited together. "It's like a freaking horror movie in here."  Within minutes, three campus security guards appeared with their flashlights in the student centre. They asked a few questions but when I admitted I wasn't certain what I'd seen they acted as if I'd certainly seen nothing. I bought some extra strength ibuprofen and left. I felt belittled by the security guards and my arm ached more than Rory indicated it would. The evening had started with so much promise. I began to regret having a punch of my skin taken, and also felt like an idiot for regretting it. Of course, I regretted it. Any normal person with average intelligence would regret such a stupid choice.    I walked past the ivy covered buildings right out of an ad for post-secondary education without my usual pride and wonderment. The truth was that my years at the school were coming to an end faster than expected. I had less than two years to go and no plans for afterward except a vague idea about a masters degree and a PhD.  I didn't know what those endeavors involved and had no strong desire to find out. I didn't know what to do with my life. I wanted to know, to have some direction or passion, but simply didn't. Looking up demons and learning about the occult was fun. It wasn't a career.  In the midst of these depressing thoughts came the wraith. The tarmac path winds around the forest as both descend and rise from a shallow bowl in the earth that floods when it rains. I looked back at the furthest edge of the earthen bowl and on the other side stood the hooded figure I'd seen in the parking lot, the one I thought must be Rory when he appeared on the sixth floor. "Rory?" No answer but the wind tugging at the edges of his black hoodie, which he lowered slowly to reveal his ridiculous art project. With deliberate slowness, he touched his index finger to the square near the small of his throat.  "Is that mine? You work fast," I said. "How'd you know which dorm I was in?" I wasn't angry yet, but the shadows pouring from the sockets and orifices of his patchwork mask were unsettling. Probably because he also didn't answer my question or say anything for that matter.  He continued to stare.  "I'm gonna go, Rory," I said. I turned away for a second. "Is this part of…" He was gone before I could ask if this stunt was part of the project. "Whoa. Batman. Good one, Rory." Nothing but the wind replied. I was tired and achy and had had enough fringe art crap for the night. I left and entered the dorm building, intending to drop into bed the second after I finally took those painkillers.  I went to close the curtains, however, and there he was, standing on the grass beneath the barren branches of a tree. The hood was back on, and, like last time, he lowered it slowly to show the skin mask. He touched the new patch again too. Then those hollow cavities where his eyes, nostrils, and open mouth took control, pulling my attention beyond the human skin mixed with leather.  I opened the window to yell through the screen. "What the hell, Rory?!" Silence. Only staring. "Look man, this is really not cool. Just email me those documents. I don't want to meet you next week. Or leave them at the desk when you get them. For real, you're taking the joke too far." I slid closed the window and closed the curtains, figuring I'd check again in a minute to see if he was still there.  When he was, with the hood up, and starting to lower it again to repeat the whole thing, I closed the curtains and went to my computer. It took a few minutes to connect to the internet and fire off an email.  *Rory. What the fuck man? You seemed like an interesting person but I am not okay with whatever drama you're playing at here. I don't even know how you know where I live and it's creepy.* I didn't know how to end it, so I sent it without further information. The email notification sound came while I resumed looking down at him. He lowered his hood. He touched the new patch. He stared. The new mail came from Rory. *I don't know what you mean. I don't know where you live. What's going on?* I checked the window again. Still there. Hood back on. Going through the process: He lowered it. Touched the patch. Stared.  I'm no idiot. He had a friend in on his prank. Either Rory stood below or an accomplice. Whatever the case, I'd had enough and called campus security.  "There’s someone outside my dorm," I told them, "and they're wearing a mask and staring at me." They instructed me to stay on the line and continue to look out the window. Rory, or his friend, must have heard the approaching car. I did. He walked slowly down the path, toward the woods, and finally out of sight. "He's gone into the forest," I told the dispatcher. One of four security guards below received that information on his walkie. They went down the path and out of sight too. Minutes went by, and the dispatcher asked for more details about the masked person, which I was reluctant to give because it somehow felt self-incriminating: Yes, ma'am, he's wearing a mask made out of human skin, including some of mine. I told her I didn't get a good look.  "He's gone," the dispatcher said. "We'll keep patrolling the area and put some extra guards outside your dorm. Get some sleep, honey." She could have been my mom.  I did try to follow her advice. Deep, restful sleep eluded me, however. I kept waking up from stupid dreams. Nothing to do with Rory or the mask. Not even nightmares. Of them, I can only recall one clearly, a conversation with a long-winded high-school teacher of mine, lecturing me about the first girl I ever loved. We didn't date, and only held hands once. She dated a friend of mine, who didn't give a crap about her, and when they broke up and she was ready to be with me, I found only resentment in my heart. I should have been first. Not some consolation prize.  "You should have hugged her," my old teacher said, "and never let go."  "I know," I said miserably. She walked away, and I never saw her again. Recent internet searches still yield nothing because I assume she moved on, got married, and changed her name.  Before the sun could rise I awoke in a panic. "I know," I announced loudly on a Saturday morning to an empty dorm building. Outside the window, beneath the tree, no one and nothing remained to freak me out.  Another email from Rory had arrived during the night. Attached were several documents of Malachi Martin's. None appeared to be unpublished works but it was still cool to have more of his writing. My arm hurt less today, and I was starting to feel optimistic once more.  *Not sure what happened last night, but hope you're okay. I found some of Malachi Martin's books right away, and here they are. I'll get the rest soon.* One thing I didn't notice until that moment was how Rory had said Malachi Martin had unpublished works that he could get, but then didn't accurately recall the author's name outside the library. How could he know Martin had unpublished works if he didn't know who the author was?  The guy was obviously full of shit, and it was time for breakfast. I went through the student centre on my way to the only cafeteria open on the weekend at the far edge of campus. A new cashier and a pharmacist stared at me as I passed and didn't wave when I waved to them.  In the caf, as I ate my eggs and hash browns, a custodian stopped at my table and pointed to her neck. I nearly choked. The gesture was too close to Rory's.  "You… you're bleeding." "What?" "On your neck, right there. There's blood." I touched the spot and my fingertip came back red. Careful to swallow, I retreated to the bathroom to check it out in the mirror. A square set of scratches had been made in the small of my neck, deep enough to draw blood.  With some wet paper towels, I cleaned up the spot and tried to make sense of the injury. Clearly, I must have done it to myself while I slept. Weird dreams had visited during the night. Perhaps one of them had involved the disturbing skin mask and the neck gesture. Yes, that's what it must be. Unless someone had broken into my room and done it without waking me somehow.  I lifted the bandaid on my shoulder too and found the biopsy spot looking fine. I'd taken a risk and there'd been some consequences the following morning. I didn't drink but sort of assumed this was something like a hangover. Conflating neck scratches and inebriation seemed like an irrational stretch toward calm.  There was nothing to be done anyway. I finished breakfast and returned to my dorm to start reading the files Rory had sent. Martin's words were interesting and dramatic. However, I couldn't read from a screen for long and opted to waste the rest of the day on video games.  Before bed, I stared out the window and the grass beneath the tree. Nobody to freak me out tonight, which was good news. I'd had enough excitement, and had a good story to tell. I had begun to relax into slumber when the phone on the nightstand rang.  It wasn't supposed to make a sound. Landlines were permitted in rooms only if they could be muted. Otherwise, there'd be constant ringing at all hours through paper-thin walls. I picked up the phone. "Do you have salt? Do you have sage?" The voice sounded weird. Feminine but robotic. "Pack the wounds with salt. Burn the sage and bathe in smoke."  "Hello? Who is this?" I asked.  "Salt and sage." A long pause followed. "He is there. The window." The call ended. I threw the blankets off and crept to the curtain, opening a slit to peek. The attempt to observe from hiding proved futile. Rory Sallow lowered his hood, revealing his grotesque mask once more, and touched his neck.  Through the window, in the dark, I didn't notice he'd touched a spot next to the first, another new patch, on his collarbone. I called security and they were as useful as before. He walked away into the night, and they stood guard. The actual police arrived to take a statement. A constable came in and asked if I knew the person in question. I gave up Rory Sallow without regret. He'd gone way too far with this stalker shit.  "You're bleeding," the constable said, tapping the top of his pen to his neck.  "Oh, yeah, I know," I said, "I scratched myself in my sleep."  He crouched a little to take a closer look. "You said you weren't asleep yet when you got that call." "Yeah, I meant last night." "Looks pretty fresh, kid."  I went to the mirror by my desk. There on my collarbone a new squared section of flesh had been rented. That's how I knew Rory hadn't touched the original spot. Suddenly, I gasped and found it impossible to take a deep breath. The constable sat me down and talked me through my first panic attack.  When my breathing had resumed normal efficiency, he asked if there was anything else I wanted to tell him. I did and I told him everything, showing the biopsy spot and describing my interest in demons.  He stopped writing at that point. He took off his cap, and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm going to pay Rory Sallow a visit once I know where he is, but this sounds like some satanic stuff you've gotten involved in." I knew better than to tell him the Satanic Panic had ended earlier that decade. "My advice is to go to church, and pray. Do you attend church, kid?" I was about to tell him I did not, but a thought struck me. Noah had said to come back Monday. I needed his advice as soon as possible, however. A Baptist would be in church on Sunday.  "I'm Baptist," I lied.  The constable nodded. "Okay. Do you go to Harmony Church?" I shook my head. "I only attend my church when I go home. I think I'll go tomorrow though. Know the address?" He wrote it down, and said he'd be in touch when he'd gotten more information. The security guards stayed all night and I didn't sleep. I went to Harmony Church as soon as the sun was up, waiting on the edge of a tiny garden and hoping Noah would show up.  He saw me before I saw him. He'd arrived before the parishioners to open up. I just presented my neck and the scratches and started to cry. He hugged me and guided me inside to an office. Without a word, he got out a first aid kit and began disinfecting the wounds, including the biopsy punch spot. I told him everything.  He was calm when he spoke but his words filled me with terror. "You have drawn the enemy of Man to yourself, and it has claimed you. The entity will consume you slowly until you give yourself to it entirely. Then will you become a passive observer of your life until you free yourself from evil." I had trouble breathing again. Panic attack number two had ensued. "Wh-wh-what c-c-can I d-do?" He grasped my hands tightly. "No Christian can be oppressed by the enemy. Say the name of Jesus, and accept him into your life, and this will stop. Do not despair."  I trembled. This was all some hypnotic bullshit and the power of suggestion. I pulled my hands away from Noah, and stood up. He reached forward and pleaded with his eyes for me to stay.   As I started to leave, he said, "You're not alone. When confronted next - and there will be a next - command it to go in the name of Jesus Christ and it will trouble you no more." I pushed through the glass exit doors angrily, and startled some early service parishioners.  "Sorry." "No problem," Rory said as he mounted the steps in his Sunday best. He went into the church. "Have a good day." Dumbstruck, I watched as he entered the foyer where Noah received him with a handshake. The pastor held up his hand and beckoned me to return. I ran down the steps, feeling betrayed when I should have been warning Noah about the demon in his church.  I thought about going back. I thought about what Noah had said. By the time I had metaphorically collected my emotions from the sidewalk outside the coffee shop, and found the courage to stand up and go to Harmony, it was late afternoon. Services had ended and the church locked.  I thought he might be at Divinity College. No luck there either. It was dark inside and empty looking. The sky had turned a darker shade of gray, and it looked like rain. The thought of staying on the college steps because they might be like holy ground occurred to me, and I felt annoyed again.  I didn't want to give in to religion. Academics and reason should be everyone's guide. It wasn't until I was much older that I understood the things we learn at school and what we think is rational are just as made up as religious belief. Each requires more faith in an orderly universe than experience and age allow. The best a person can hope for is chaos and indifference from powerful, evil things. You will arrive at these conclusions too. When you're old enough.  The sky spit down into the streetlights and I wandered to the library. It was open and I went in with my fists clenched, looking for Rory Sallow. He'd followed me everywhere that weekend. It was reasonable for him to show up there too, especially if I could provoke him.  I ran up the steps to the vacant sixth floor and stood at the window. The hooded figure waited in the parking lot as expected. He didn't wait for me to look away this time before striding swiftly across the tarmac, black and slick like blood from the rain. Let him come, and find out.  The elevator door slid open and soft footsteps shuffled through the aisles to the corner where I waited in ambush. I misjudged where he'd appear, however, and there he stood suddenly in the shadows of the opposite corner, down the opposing aisle.  The hood lowered and the eyes, the nostrils, the mouth drank all my pathetic courage. I started to shake. He took his finger and touched a leather-skin patch on his cheek, and I felt the burn on my own face immediately. The blood ran fast alongside my lips and tasted like hot metal.  His cloying cologne, covering the smell of decaying flesh, encouraged the tears filling my eyes to run. Rory had lied about the quantity of skin he'd acquired over the years. I knew that with inexplicable certainty because he was there - no, not he, it. It was here for more than I wanted to give. "Do not be afraid," it said with Rory's voice from beneath the mask. "I can give you everything you desire. Direction. Purpose. Academic greatness. You would not be the first we have made perfect. The price is low. Only a few scars." The price was too high. I didn't know how to escape or what I could do. Fists might only harm Rory. Even the creature was the horrible idea of the mask. Not the mask itself. Its presence could dwell in the mind of a victim such as I with similar ease.  Noah had told me what to do. If only I had listened more carefully.  "In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to leave me alone." My voice had not been loud or steady. And it laughed before it said, "Jesus I know, and Paul I know about, but who are you?" It laughed more and then it was upon me. It seized Rory's body and I had no hope of defending myself. I covered my head as punch after punch, kick after kick impacted my body. I woke up on the elevator when the door slid open. Broken and bloodied, and stripped naked, I walked out before the astonished shelvers and a crowd of students who'd returned for this week's classes. More students were in the plaza. I walked with no destination in mind, completely separated from the moment, an observer of my body's actions. A squat woman in a shawl stood in my path. Smoke surrounded her. "Salt and sage," she said, tossing a handful of granules over my head before waving smoke around my whole naked body. I felt my focus return somewhat, which only made the embarrassing moment worse. "Go," she commanded.  I ran back to my dorm room and sat on the floor for an indeterminate amount of hours. I know it was late when I finally got up and went to the window. No one stood beneath that tree. Nobody during that whole night. I left the university the next morning, and returned home to Bridal Veil Lake. My parents were furious with the school and contemplated legal action. My mental health became their priority. They'd find me often looking out the window in the morning. With time, I recovered and recognized similarities between the attack at the library and the Bible story in Acts of some young men attempting to use Jesus's name, without conviction, to exorcize demons. They too were beaten, stripped and humiliated.  A heavy envelope arrived in the mail before Christmas. There was no return address but I knew it contained the printed documents Rory had promised. When my parents were at work, I got a fire going in the hearth, fully intending to burn the whole thing without opening the envelope. For some reason, I didn't and shoved it in my closet.  When I finally checked my email soon after the envelope incident, there were several messages from Rory. None contained subject lines, and I left them unopened too.  I gradually compartmentalized the trauma and got on with the business of living. Forgetting about academia proved to be easier than expected. I took up a trade, finding a meditative effect in woodworking and building.  Years passed. I got married. I have a couple of kids, and life is good.  My mother found the envelope in my old bedroom closet, and gave it to me. I lied to her about its contents, saying it was an old novel I'd mailed to myself because I thought it'd protect the ideas from thieves. Her expression said she didn't believe my elaborate story. She didn't question it though either. I shoved the envelope and the awful memories accompanying it to the bottom of an old drawer. But the damage had ripped open old wounds. The light scarring on my cheek, and neck, hadn't faded as much I imagined.  I'd been avoiding mirrors for so long. My wife thought I'd gotten them from a cycling accident because that's what I'd told her.  I saw AP Cleriot's flier asking for [residents of Bridal Veil Lake to share their unexplained experiences](https://www.youtube.com/@CleriotNoir) last year and made contact. AP contends there is no God. Only demons. The other stories posted [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16fm4sw/the_first_time_i_can_remember/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button) and [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mnno5/mike_96/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button) seem to support this idea.  The woman with the salt and sage I thought of as a friendly witch professor, the one who taught nothing and kept no office hours. AP believes she too was or is in league with a demon, and that these beings fight for territory or something. I was merely an unintended benefactor in a conflict between them. She saved me in order to show another of her kind they couldn't operate on her turf. Sounds like a pretty dumb theory if you ask me, but who knows the truth?  I used the same old Hotmail account to send my story. Rory's messages are still there. I've thought about opening them finally. Would you?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16rcxhb/the_skin_man/

nosleep

APCleriot

Tape 4: Pigeons

[Part 3](https://reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/1PWOvSjvjJ) *A man is watching TV in his apartment. Suddenly, loud cooing is heard.* *The man is visibly frustrated, he quickly stands up and approaches the balcony.* *He opens the balcony door and angrily shouts at the small group of pigeons.* *The pigeons scatter instantly, but it seems like one of the pigeons is entangled in the messy collection of fishing gear that the man keeps stored on the balcony.* *The frightened bird tries it's best to get out of the fishing wire, nets and rods that are pinning it to the ground, but to no avail.* *The man looks at the trapped animal, a malicious grin forms on his face.* Man: That's what you get, bloody bastard! *The man leaves the struggling pigeon and closes the door, showing no empathy at all, he sits on his large sofa and continues watching TV.* *A montage begins, the man is doing his usual daily routine while the trapped pigeon's frantic cooing is noticable in the background. Seemingly, days pass, the pigeon's desperate cooing is getting louder and louder, but the old man remains unbothered, he completely ignores the bird's cries for help.* *After many days of struggle, the pigeon finally becomes completely silent.* *He notices this almost immediately, then gets a trash bag and opens the balcony door.* *He is met with a surprise, instead of finding the corpse of the unfortunate pigeon, he finds nothing more than his fishing gear.* *He shuffles through the fishing gear, but the pigeon is nowhere to be seen.* *He scratches the back of his head in confusion, then he exits the balcony and starts watching TV once again.* *As soon as he sits on the sofa, he hears two light knocks on the window.* *He turns around and looks at the balcony window.* *He notices a unusual dark-colored pigeon pecking at the window, the pigeon seems to be completely black, except for it's large blood-red eyes.* *The man approaches the window and quickly knocks on it to try and scare the pigeon away, but instead of flying away, the bird just slightly turns it's head and looks directly at the man.* *He awkwardly stares at the pigeon for a good minute while trying to scare it away, he shouts and knocks on the window, but the bird doesn't move or make a sound, it's bloody eyes continue staring at the man.* *His patience seems to be thinning, as he grabs a fly swatter off the table, with the long fly swatter in hand, he opens the balcony door and immediately forcefully hits the pigeon with the large fly swatter.* *Surprisingly, the dark pigeon is completely unfazed, once again, it just turns it's head slowly and looks the man straight in the eyes.* *The anger on the man's face is quickly replaced with a look of absolute fear.* *He quickly exits the balcony, closes and locks the door behind him, then quickly shuts the blinds of the balcony windows.* *Visibly disturbed by the unwanted visitor, he goes to the bathroom and washes his face.* *While washing his face, he hears another knock, instinctively, he looks at the bathroom window and sees the same dark pigeon staring at him with it's bulging eyes.* *He quickly shuts the blinds once again and exits the bathroom.* *Another montage begins.* *The man is once again doing his usual daily routine, the scenes are similar to the last montage, but this time, the man is visibly uneasy. The uncanny dark pigeon is standing at the window of every room the man enters, he is trying to ignore the pigeon's gaze, but to no avail.* *Finally, the man seems to have had enough. He shuts the blinds of every window in his home.* *While trembling in fear, he sits down and turns on the TV, his hands are shaking so much that he can barely even hold the TV remote.* *Suddenly a loud sound of glass breaking is heard.* *The man gets up and slowly approaches the bathroom.* *He cautiously opens the door of the bathroom.* *Inside the bathroom, on top of the shattered glass, stands a tall dark creature.* *The massive birdlike creature is easily as large as the man, it is covered in feathers that look more like greasy dark fur, it's legs are long and muscular. Overgrown, sharp talons are protruding from the creature's toes. The sinister creature's beak is oddly similar to a toucan's, the only difference being it's charcoal black color.* *Without warning, the creature looks the man in the eyes, he immediately notices something that makes him scream in terror, the creature's eyes look like a pair of bloody marbles, exactly like the dark pigeon's eyes did.* *The man starts to run, the creature immediately follows him, matching his pace with ease.* *He tries to exit his home, but the creature quickly stands in front of the main door.* *With his only exit now blocked, he desperately enters the living room.* *He quickly rushes to the balcony, his mix of rashness and fear overwhelm him as he trips and falls on the hard balcony floor, a loud crack is heard as his head hits the ground.* *The man looks like he's badly hurt, he doesn't seem to be able to get up and his speech has been reduced to pained moaning.* *The disturbing creature approaches the crippled man, as the man slowly loses conciousness, the creature looks him in the eyes for one final time.* *TAPE ENDS.* *Just like I did last time, I quickly swap the tape with the next one.* *Tape 5: Eripmav, begins.*

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16r7ldb/tape_4_pigeons/

nosleep

GeneralP123

I hunt supernatural creatures as a part time job (Part 1): I discovered something that freaked me out after my latest hunt.

I parked my Gray Mazda CX-30 on the grass near the treeline, and loaded a silver bullet clip into my Taurus 45, and multiple silver laced shotgun shells into my sawed off. I opened the trunk of my car, and took out an ornate silver dagger where the blade had the outline of  black dragon engraved on it, and a saber that had a similar engraving as well. I took out a flashlight, and closed the truck door. I then sheathed my saber and dagger and entered the forest line in the middle of the knight. “Should be 5 miles up from here.” I said to myself, turning on my flashlight.I walked to the campsite, the dry leaves of autumn crunching under my black leather boots and the bushes brushing alongside my black double breasted trench coat rubbing along the dry bushes. God, how I hate that the order makes us wear these things. I reached the campsite only to be met with the smell of rotting bodies, and yellow police tape and I checked to make sure there weren’t any cops around before entering the campsite.  I was lucky to know that a lesser vampire caused this. For those curious as to what happened, four days ago, a group of six campers went camping in the Allegheny National Forest and were supposed to return the next day. When they didn’t return, some of their relatives called the forest service and they found this campsite with four bodies. One of the cops who was investigating the scene was an insider for the order and relayed the information to them. The only thing I had to do was find a trail which for someone with my level of experience was relatively easy. I looked around the woods along the campsite and found a small clearing with some broken branches, blood, and footprints. They led up northeast  an old mineshaft. I held my saber in my left hand and put my flashlight in my right hand and entered the mineshaft. For most normal people, entering the pitch blackness of these tunnels would be terror inducing   with them jumping at every drop from the ceiling, every creak, every small noise. For me though? This is my job and I’ve gotten used to it to the point that’ it's little more than a minor distraction. I walked silently through the caves, the boots specially designed to cancel out noise until I heard the sound of crying from a side tunnel piercing and echoing through the tunnels. It was obviously human, that much was obvious to me. Lesser vampires sometimes take their victims and sort of in a morbid way store them for later feeding, typically within a month. If I was lucky, both of them would be alive. I found both of them tied up against the granite cave wall. It was a large, open cavern where the ceiling of the cave was roughly 25 feet in the air with unpower lights, and mining equipment, and scaffolding inside. I walked up to the two campers who were hanging up against the wall. One of them, a hispanic male who looked to be in his 20’s, was unconscious while another, a blonde girl was awake and wide eyed. “Is he still alive?” I asked “Yeah he is. Get us the hell out of here!” “Don’t worry I will.” I said. “You need to hurry up! We’re in danger! I know this sounds crazy but you need believe me that-” she said, a clear panic  in her voice “That there’s a monster that brought you here and killed your buddies? That’s exactly why I’m here, you know.” Then for a brief moment the air around us got cold as the instinct that my target was about to attack me weighed on me.  I turned around and using my saber, blocked one of the lesser vampires attacks using it. The vampire was pale and shirtless with his lower body being covered in a dark maroon cloth as he bore his fangs and razor shark-like teeth at me.“ What business you have?” He growled. “It’s simple, I want to kill you and make money.” I said, a mischievous smile forming on my face before I kicked him away and pulled out my Taurus  45 with my right hand  and shot two bullets into his stomach. He  moaned in agony as the silver burned it like a witch at the stake. “My work you dare interfere?” “What work? Become a fat ass from eating humans?” He got visibly offended by my comments before screaming in the same broken English “ I shed blood of you for the mother.” He screamed out loud before lunging at me, one of his claws grazing my right arm. I dashed to the right, slashing at his leg. He kept trying to claw at me with me effortlessly dodging each strike before  I stepped to the side and I cut off his right arm with my saber and shot him in the head, killing him instantly as his body made a loud thump.“Why do they always give me the easy targets? I guess they pay well.” I said out loud. I walked  towards the vampire’s captives and freed both of them. I woke the unconscious man and let him recuperate. When both of them were done, I told them to wait and not go anywhere. “ What do you mean we have to stay here?” The man protested. “You guys were unlucky enough to be dragged into a  large abandoned mine system, good luck getting out of here on your own.” “So lead us out of here right now!”“I will do that, but I have something I need to look for.” I said. “Say, did the vampire do anything strange with any of you?” The girl stopped to think for a moment before saying “I saw him periodically slash Juan and put his blood in multiple test tubes like he was using them for an experiment. I never saw him drink it, he just went somewhere.” “Test tubes?” I said, my curiosity immediately aroused. “Lady, did you see where the vampire went after he was done extracting blood from your friend?”S he pointed to a tunnel to my left as I walked inside the tunnel. Turning on my flashlight, I walked through what felt like around three minutes through the cave until I saw a light to the right. I turned off my flashlight and unsheathe my saber and reloaded my Taurus 45. I crept up to the edge of the cave wall, taking  a peak at the room and seeing if there was anything in there. While there weren’t any monsters thankfully, I saw a mini alchemist lab in a cave.T o say I was astonished would be a great understatement. Most lesser vampires were just as intelligent as humans with an IQ of 80-95. I had never seen any lesser or higher vampire do something like this.  I crept inside the lab, preparing to be attacked at any moment but nothing came. I then began examining the lab. “Boiler flasks, Erlenmeyer flasks, beakers, test tubes, and alchemic books.” My initial amazement quickly turned to multiple large questions. What was he researching? Why was he collecting blood? I sheathed my sword and began looking through the alchemist book that the vampire had opened. It was written in Latin but thankfully I was taught a fair good amount of Latin so I was able to partly understand it on my own.“Communion with Lilith, mother of the Godless, and Crowned Princess of Hell.” it read.  “Lilith? Why would a lesser vampire want to commune with Lilith?”  I thought to myself. I don’t know much about Lilith but from the stories I’ve heard, she was one of the most powerful demons of hell, second only to the Kings of Hell. I also heard that she would be too egotistical to speak with something like a lesser vampire. I started reading some of the notes on the side to gauge this vampire motivation.They were also written in Latin and I roughly understood them to be both  praise of Lilith as well as notes on the progress he was making. I then flipped a page and- “What the fuck?!” I yelled, almost falling to the ground. I saw a symbol, a symbol that I was very familiar with but didn’t know the name of. It was a cross but the lower half was bent towards the left while the horizontal line that insects with the top part of a cross was tilted diagonally with the end slightly curving in on themselves. There were two snakes that were wrapping themselves around the cross with them meeting at the top and looking like they were hissing at each other. The twisted cross is also within the confines of a circle.I read what the symbol was and I understood it as “ The Mark of Lilith”. Freaked out , I closed the book, and put it in a medium size  satchel around the center right side of my waist. I would give the book to my granddad back at the bar I worked at later. Till then, I walked back to the surviving campers but before escorting them outside the mines, and back to my car, I took out my dagger and severed the fang of the vampire I had just killed. I would give this to confirm my kill and get my moment. I then took the campers out of the mines and guided them to my car.Just before we reached it however, I stopped them. “What are we stopping for?” The girl asked. “I did both of you a favor by saving your lives so I would appreciate it if you did me one as well.” I said. “There's a nearby Ranger station where you will be fed and comforted. They’re  going to ask you a lot of questions so you’re going to tell everyone that asks you about that  you were attacked by a deranged machete wielding killer who stalks these woods and both of you managed to escape him.” “You expect us to shut up about the fact that a fucking vampire attacked us in the woods and spent 3 days toturing us?!” Juan said. “If you don’t, well let’s just say things are going to get ugly for you, fast.” I said Both of them didn’t say a word, shaking at the thought of what I might do.  I had no intention of causing them any harm, it’s just the order’s  protocol when we faced these kinds. I led both of them into my car and I drove them to the ranger station where the rangers took them in. After I got them the help they needed, I drove to a nearby 3 star motel and slept for the night before preparing to go back home to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. I woke up, ate the mediocre breakfast they were serving, and drove for around 5 hours back to Bethlehelm, the events of the hunt weighing on my mind. I arrived and parked outside my grandfather's bar, The Joyce Bar.I walked into the bar and stepped on the hardwood floor to some old 60’s music playing in the background.' “Hey Connor, how’d that hunt go?”  Silvia said.  She was a Brunette woman in her 40’s sitting at a bar stool at the far left end of the counter. My grandfather's bar also served as a meeting place for many of the order’s hunters this side of the country. “I killed that vampire.” I said, trying to form a smile in a half hearted attempt. “ I need to talk with my grandfather.” “Hey Micah, get your ass over here, I want another drink, and also your grandson’s back.” My granddad came from the storage closet, and restocked some of the selves. He then poured a drink for Slivia.  “Come here and take a seat son.” He said as I then sat on the counter. I pulled out the vampire tooth I had served and I placed it on the table.  “Good work as always, kid.” He said, a pride filled smile forming on his face. My granddad took the vampire fang and told me that I can expect my payment of 3,000$ next week. He noticed the look on my face. “Son, is everything all right?” “Yeah, it’s just something that has been weighing on my mind ever since I returned.” “What is it?” “Grandpa, when I killed the vampire, I searched his lair and found this.” I laid out the book I retrieved on the counter to my grandfather's eyes widening. “What the? A  Dark Alchemist book? From a Lesser Vampire?” Before my grandfather could inquire for any more information, I flipped over to the part of the book where the mark of Lilith symbol.  I looked my  grandfather, dead in the eye, before saying  “Why do I have the Mark of Lilith engraved on the left side of my neck?”

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16rcclf/i_hunt_supernatural_creatures_as_a_part_time_job/

nosleep

chadlake

I don’t think this dinosaur was an actor

Ever since I was a child, the sight of Barney the dinosaur filled me with an inexplicable dread. His gigantic, plush purple body, the way his mouth moved, those large, empty eyes—it was all too much. While other children sang along to his songs and danced with glee, I would hide behind the sofa, trembling in fear. My parents dismissed it as a weird phase. “She'll grow out of it,” they'd tell concerned relatives. But I didn’t. The fear intensified. As I grew older, I did everything in my power to avoid any references to Barney. No TV shows, no merchandise, no themed birthday parties. My friends found it quirky but never truly understood the depth of my terror. One summer, in my early twenties, I took a job at a local community center. They hosted events, workshops, and summer camps for children. I loved my job, especially the genuine smiles of the children. But everything changed one fateful day. A colleague named Jake was discussing plans for an upcoming kids' event. “We've managed to get a real treat for the children,” he mentioned with a grin. Before I could ask what it was, he continued, “A live performance by Barney! Well, not the real Barney, of course. Dave from the next town over has this incredibly realistic costume. The kids will love it.” My blood ran cold. The very thought of being in the same building as that monstrosity was unbearable. I decided to take the day off, unable to face my childhood nightmare. The day of the event, however, curiosity got the better of me. I thought perhaps confronting my fear, even if from a distance, might help. I arrived early, ensuring I wouldn’t be near the performance area. Peeking from a window overlooking the main hall, I caught sight of "Barney" getting ready. The suit looked unsettlingly real. The show began, and children cheered. But something felt off. Barney's movements were more aggressive, less cheerful. The songs were not the usual catchy tunes but renditions that sounded distorted and ominous. I felt a knot in my stomach. Suddenly, Barney stopped, his head slowly turning towards the window where I was hiding. Our eyes met, or at least, it felt that way. The hall's doors slammed shut, and Barney began to approach, the children's cheers turning into confused murmurs. I panicked, retreating from the window, my breaths coming in short gasps. Every door I tried was locked. It felt like the building was conspiring to keep me trapped with that purple horror. I could hear the distant thudding of Barney's footsteps, echoing in the otherwise silent corridors, his bubbly voice inside my ear, even feel his rancid breath on my back. Finding a closet, I hid inside. The muffled sound of that haunting version of the "I Love You" song seeped through the door, growing louder. My heart pounded so loudly that I was sure Barney could hear it. Suddenly, the closet door was yanked open. I braced myself for the worst. But it was Jake, pale and wide-eyed. "We need to get out. That's not Dave in the costume." Together, we managed to find an emergency exit. Bursting out into the daylight, we didn't stop running until we reached the safety of the nearby streets. Jake explained that Dave had called in sick that morning, so the community center had quickly hired a replacement from a different agency. No one knew who was inside the Barney costume. The event was shut down immediately. The police were called, but the Barney costume was found abandoned, with no trace of the person who had worn it. I quit my job at the community center, the trauma of that day leaving a permanent scar. The identity of the imposter Barney remains a mystery. Every creak in the night, every shadow in my peripheral vision, conjures images of that purple terror. The childlike mantra of "Barney is just a friendly dinosaur" offered no comfort. For in the end, it wasn’t the fictional Barney I feared, but the unknown entity hiding behind its mask, exploiting my deepest phobia, and reminding me that sometimes real terror wears a familiar, smiling face.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16r55d8/i_dont_think_this_dinosaur_was_an_actor/

nosleep

Frosty-Country4755

Madeline

Many people go through a mopey ‘nobody wants to date me’ phase. I was in the midst of mine a few years back, when I was a junior in college. There’s nothing particularly dramatic about it. I had no interest in romance in my teens when plenty of people around me were going through such formative experiences. I hardly socialized, either. So, unsurprisingly, when I finally acted on the feelings I started to have towards certain members of the opposite sex, I was clumsy and awkward, and I met with no success. I recognize that it wasn’t too big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, even if it felt catastrophic to me at the time. I was downcast but not self-pitying. I realized that I had a lot of personal growth ahead of me before I’d have much to offer to another person, and I felt a little lonely and insecure as a result. That insecurity didn’t stop me from opting for a semester abroad. It’s something I’d always seen as a valuable learning opportunity, and, thanks to my school’s strong ties with a Danish educational program, I soon found myself on a plane from the states to Copenhagen. The first couple weeks went smoothly enough. I explored plenty of landmarks, from ascending the Round Tower’s iconic helical corridor to touring the gigantic Frederiksborg Castle. I also made progress in a basic-level Danish language course. Learning the language in detail was hardly necessary, though, as virtually every resident there would rather practice their English than try to decipher a foreigner’s rudimentary Danish. I first saw her at a crowded bar on a Saturday night. My roommate and I were sipping Carlsbergs when I spotted a woman by the door. She had red hair and pale skin, and there was a peculiar, kinetic energy about her that caused her to stand out from the crowd. For a moment, we made eye contact before, nervously, I averted my gaze to the floor. My roommate announced that he was turning in for the night. No sooner did he leave than she approached me. When I started mumbling a basic greeting in Danish, she smiled and quickly cut me off. “I saw you looking at me. Want to buy me a drink?” Like many Danes, she spoke fluent English with a Nordic accent. “Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, gesturing for another beer on tap. She introduced herself as Madeline and, at her suggestion, we got ourselves a small table. She asked me a lot of questions, and she seemed to listen intently to my responses. We talked at first about basic subjects, such as my hometown and my reasons for studying abroad, and how she’d grown up nearby but recently returned from traveling through Switzerland and Germany. Before long, we were discussing more personal topics. I explained how my father had passed when I was little, and she shared how she’d recently broken up with a longtime boyfriend. As our conversation stretched into the early morning, I realized that I felt more comfortable around her than I did around, well, just about anybody else. I found her extremely attractive, too, which contributed to my excitement. Eventually, she suggested that we depart. “You going to drink that?” I asked, motioning to the still-full beer I’d ordered for her. “No,” she laughed. “I don’t really drink. I just wanted to see if you’d order it for me. Help yourself to it, if you want.” I took a deep gulp from it as I left payment on the table before following her to the deserted cobblestone street outside. She learned into me until her face was just inches from mine. “You ever kissed a girl before?” she whispered. “Yeah,” I lied, embarrassed over my inexperience. “Ever done more than that?” “Uh-huh.” The smirk on her face showed me that she likely didn’t believe me. “Just a little,” I added. If she sensed I was lying, it didn’t seem to bother her. “What do you say,” she said, drawing away from me, “you hang out with me tomorrow night? I’m having a gathering with some friends and family. Afterwards, we can spend some time together alone. Just the two of us.” The wink she gave me made my heart flutter. “Oh, yeah, okay,” I stammered, nervously. “Sure, I’ll be there.” That seemed to please her. She proceeded to describe the route I would need to take to get there. I typed each step into my travel flip phone. As we parted ways, she called to me, “Vi ses senere.” Danish for *see you later*. I practically skipped with joy as I made my way home. After so many self-doubts and restless nights, a charming, gorgeous woman had shown interest in *me*, of all people. My mind flooded with thoughts of what was to follow. Maybe the event would be awkward and little would come of it. Perhaps I’d say or do something foolish like I had so many times before, and I’d never hear from her again. But, just maybe, this could be the start of something meaningful, or, at a minimum, something validating and fun. When I got home, I realized that she’d left me with relatively little specific information. Madeline hadn’t given me her last name or even her phone number. I had an address, but I had no idea what sort of building I was looking for, or the kind of neighborhood I’d be heading into. Her mention of ‘family’ struck me as strange, too. Who brings someone to a family event on a first (or, if last night counted, second) date? My mind didn’t dwell on these peculiarities for long. Instead, I replayed the wink she gave me when she’d referenced us being alone together. It was more than enough to silence any uncertainties. I spent the next morning preparing. I showered, shaved my face, and picked out a nice shirt. I tried to think in advance of the questions her friends and family members might ask me and practiced my responses before a mirror. My roommate, sensing my purpose, wished me luck as I stepped outside. At first, the journey was unremarkable. The metro station had its usual glossy, spotless appearance. When the fully-automated train arrived, I took a seat near a chatty group of teens, and numerous passengers embarked and departed over the next few stops. Things started to change when I reached the Nørreport station. According to Madeline’s instructions, I needed to switch to a train on the ‘silver’ line. However, I couldn’t find a platform for such a line, nor did one appear on any of the maps throughout the station. I spotted two metro employees and asked them for assistance. They exchanged a quick glance when I mentioned the silver line. “Are you sure you want to go there?” asked the first. I nodded, trying to make sense of their grim, concerned expressions. “Then follow me,” ordered the other, a short, well-built woman with a gray ponytail. She led me up a small staircase that I otherwise would have assumed connected to a custodial closet or maintenance hatch. At the top, she led me down a shadowy corridor. In contrast to the polished, pristine look of the rest of the station, the walls and flooring in this area were rugged and dirty. We stepped into a cavernous room. A weak, flickering overhead light partially illuminated an empty train platform in its center. A large sign above it read *Sølv/Silver*. In contrast to the other platforms, there appeared to be no ticket booth or electronic indicator of when the next train would arrive. When I asked about this, I found, to my surprise, that the woman who had brought me there was already gone. I was alone. I considered leaving. This all made little sense – the absence of any silver line from the map, the platform’s dingy appearance, and the reaction of the employees. The air had a rancid, foul smell to it, too, and the temperature was much higher than in the rest of the station. But, I’d come this far, and it had all accorded, more or less, with the instructions Madeline had left me. I reminded myself, too, of why I was there in the first place. I thought about how comfortable and warm her presence had made me feel last night. I imagined the smile that would spread across her face when she saw me; the feeling of her lips pressed against mine; doing more than kissing, perhaps even quite a bit more. Eventually, two harsh red lights punctured the opaque darkness and approached like the eyes of a hunting predator. As they grew closer, I discerned that they were the headlights to an older, shabbier train than the one I’d used to get here. The smudges across its glass windows and the graffiti that covered its metal exterior reminded me much more of public transportation in the U.S. than what I’d seen elsewhere in Copenhagen. Even though the train seemed to be at the end of the line, no one who had arrived on it exited. Instead, the handful of passengers in the car I stepped onto remained eerily silent as I took a seat. An empty glass bottle rolled across its dusty floor as the train jutted back into motion, reversing direction into the black void from which it had emerged. I checked the directions Madeline had given me. Seven metro stops, and then a five block walk until I reached “Skeltoftevej 27.” I’d be there soon enough. I tried to relax as the train sputtered along. At the first two stops, no one got on or off. By the time the train approached the third stop, I noticed a peculiar stillness among the passengers in my periphery. Neither the lanky man by the door nor the mother and daughter in matching red jackets in the seats ahead of me had moved an inch since I’d gotten onboard. As far as I could tell, everyone around me remained completely motionless. I shifted my gaze to the window on my right as the train approached the third stop. Between the back-glare against the dirty glass and the outside platform’s minimal lighting, I could barely make anything out. The doors opened and, again, I discerned no movement onto or off of the train. Staring deep into the shadows outside, I noticed something else odd: the vague outlines of figures, all as still as those in my train car. At the fourth station, I observed the same thing. I couldn’t identify any details of the distant spectators, beyond that they just seemed to be standing there…doing nothing at all. It perplexed me. Why were they there? As far as I could tell, there wasn’t any other train on this track. As the train departed, I picked up on another detail – pairs of tiny, neon green dots of light. They were hard to make out at first, but once I noticed them, I couldn’t ignore them. Each hovered above the ground…right around where the obscured figures’ faces would be. The fifth and sixth stops were the same. Now that I knew to look for them, I detected no fewer than a dozen pairs of these glowing lights, all gazing at the train like eyes that never blinked. As we approached the seventh stop, I wasn’t sure what to make of what I’d been seeing. The distant figures spooked me, even though I had no reason to think I was in any danger. I reflected on just how alone and isolated I was. After all, I was a foreigner traveling to an area I knew nothing about on a line that didn’t appear on maps, all to see someone I’d only just met. I hadn’t even told anyone where I was going. But I had to exit the train at some point, even if only to turn around. So, I mustered my courage and approached the screen doors, praying that whatever lay in the void ahead of me meant me no harm, and that I’d soon be happily reunited with the gorgeous woman who’d shown so much interest in me. As the doors began to open, my hands shot impulsively to my eyes to protect them from an unexpected and intense wave of what felt like blisteringly bright light. As my eyes started to adjust, I squinted to find before me a fully-illuminated train platform. To my relief, it was bereft of any skulking figures, or anyone at all for that matter. Sounds of my footsteps echoed through the vacant train station as I made my way through it. There was nothing odd about its structure or layout, but the absence of other people left me uneasy. I remembered the giggling teens and hand-holding couples I was used to seeing at places like this. Everything around me, by contrast, felt artificial, mechanical, and joyless. The street outside had a similarly ethereal aura to it. It possessed all the qualities of the vibrant cityscape I’d spent the last few weeks exploring – cobblestone streets; occasional baroque churches; crooked houses painted in warm hues of yellow, red, and orange – but it was all quiet, so quiet, and the air carried a suffocating staleness. As I passed by a restaurant, I found myself fixating on its chairs and tables – all uninhabited, like everything else around me. Their design, and the layout in general, were identical to that of an upscale Italian place not far from my dorm back in the states. My mind flashed back to the night I’d taken Audrie, a girl from my chemistry class, out on a date. Our conversation over the meal had been…awkward. She’d acted friendly towards me earlier, but that night, she’d been guarded and withholding. When the check arrived, I’d tried to pay it in full, but she’d insisted on splitting the expense. As we stepped outside, she confessed that she’d thought we were hanging out as friends and hadn’t realized until she’d arrived at the restaurant that I’d asked her on a date. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something earlier. I just didn’t know what to do.” When she told me she didn’t see me that way, I said that was okay, and I’d apologized for the misunderstanding. I felt terrible, though I tried not to show it. I dismissed the memory quickly. As I continued towards Madeline’s address, a distant noise caught my attention. As I got closer, I recognized it as laughter. At first, I found this reassuring. It was the first sign of life I’d encountered after traversing so much seemingly abandoned cityscape. But, I steadily pick up on an unwelcome undertone to the shrill giggles ahead of me. There was a piercing meanness to them. They recalled the specter of a group of people – young people, by the sound of it – basking in a peer’s humiliation. It was a sound I knew too well. When I’d summoned my courage to ask a classmate out to prom – a fellow violist named Maria I’d shared a stand with in orchestra for over a year – she’d laughed at me like that, and her friends had quickly joined in. *Do better,* I’d told myself when I’d cried into the mirror that night. *Nobody owes me anything.* I’d do better tonight, I told myself. Everything was going to change. Madeline and I had made a connection so quickly. She really liked me, and I liked her, too. Maybe I’d just grown up on the wrong continent. The laughter got louder until, right as I reached the alley from which it seemed to have been emanating, it stopped, and there was no one there to be found. *Just keep moving,* I told myself, adding it to a list of abnormalities I fought to keep buried in the back of my mind. *I’m almost there.* Finally, I reached a street sign that read *Skeltoftevej*. The first few buildings were businesses –a deli that served distinctly Danish open sandwiches called smørrebrød, a barber’s shop, a camera store. At last, I found myself facing a brick structure with the number ‘27’ affixed to its front door. The sign next to the entrance displayed three words: *Den Værdige Bedemand.* I knew that ‘den’ translated to ‘the’, but the remaining words were unfamiliar to me. My best guess was that it was a bar or a restaurant. If so, it was a fancy one, judging by the black suit worn by the man by the ornate front desk inside – incidentally, the first person I’d seen since the train station. I expected to feel some sense of relief at seeing another living, breathing person, but his emaciated appearance and grim expression brought me little comfort. He said something to me in Danish – I think “Lan jeg hjælpe dig?” (*Can I help you?*) – but he spoke a little too rapidly for me to be sure. I just stated Madeline’s name, hoping he’d understand that I was looking for her. “Madeline,” he repeated back to me. He nodded solemnly and then beckoned for me to follow him. We arrived in a large, plain room occupied by at least two dozen people. The first thing I noticed about them was how formally they were dressed. My patterned button-down shirt looked outright casual compared to the suit jackets and plain dresses – all muted shades of black and gray – worn by everyone else. Naturally, I felt out of place. Nobody said anything to me, but I sensed, truthfully or not, that I was being judged. Why hadn’t Madeline told me this was a fancy event? I wondered, too: Where was Madeline, what kind of event had she invited me to? The absence of any food or silverware-laden tables confirmed that I was not, in fact, in a restaurant as I’d inferred. Rather, the attendees were standing and chatting quietly with each other in voices no louder than a whisper. Nobody really seemed to be doing anything in particular. I approached an elderly man standing alone. “Excuse me,” I said meekly. “I’m looking for Madeline.” A puzzled expression formed on his face. As he looked me over skeptically, my face turned red with a mix of nervousness and embarrassment. I felt so hopelessly lost and confused. He slowly raised his arm and pointed towards the far end of the room. “Tak,” I muttered before nudging my way through the small crowd in the direction he had indicated. My jaw nearly dropped when I saw the wooden casket, which was decorated by an array of lilies and roses. Madeline lay underneath its open head panel. Her eyes were closed, and she was perfectly still. She wore the same clothes I’d seen her in the previous night. A display next to the casket read, “Madeline Hænning, december 12, 1994 – september 7, 2019.” It was too much to take in. My legs grew weak and I began feeling dizzy. My mind raced to process what was happening. I was at a *funeral home*. And Madeline had invited me…to her *own* open casket? Something else stuck out to me. Last night – when I’d met Madeline – was September *14th*. One week *after* the date listed as that of her death. None of this made sense. What was I doing here? How was any of this possible? The old man who’d directed me shuffled past me and stood next to the casket. He turned to face the rest of the crowd, which quickly grew silent. I realized he was giving some kind of speech. Was he a relative, or a priest perhaps? He spoke in a coarse, raspy voice. My mind was too astounded for me to grasp a word of what he was saying. I wasn’t even sure that it was Danish. The reaction from the crowd baffled me even more. They were *laughing*. Again and again, the man made comments – comments that I could not understand – and the rest of the room chortled and giggled in response. All I could do was watch, embarrassed and dumbfounded, as I wondered who tells jokes at an occasion like this. Suddenly, all eyes turned to me. “*Michael*,” the man hissed, somehow knowing my name. “It’s time.” “Time … for what?” I replied, exasperated. I looked around the room – at the dozens of people staring intently at me. “What’s happening? What do you want from me?” “It’s not us who want you,” said the man. “It’s her.” He walked up to me, then turned to face the casket. I stood frozen as Madeline’s corpse sat up. Madeline opened her eyes, and, placing both hands on the casket’s mahogany surface, pulled herself slowly upward and hopped onto the floor. “Michael,” she said, her voice weaker and coarser than it had been last night. “You came. I knew you would.” She wobbled towards me, her legs seemingly straining to support her. I froze, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. “Are you, are you-” I stuttered. “They’re going to bury me, Michael,” she said, as she continued her approach. “Six feet under.” As she got closer, I recoiled at her rank, putrid smell. Impulsively, I backed up, only for the speaker to grip me tightly, holding me in place. “I don’t want to be alone, Michael,” said Madeline. “There’s room for us both down there.” “No,” I gasped as I struggled to get free. “No, please-“ “There’s so much that I can show you. It’ll be just the two of us, and we’ll have all the time in the world. Isn’t this what you always wanted? To never be alone again?” She stood right in front of me now. My stomach churned as the rotting smell grew even more pungent. The world spun around me as panic set in. I remember tearing the man’s hands off me, losing my balance, and slamming my head painfully into the casket before I hit the ground. ~ When I came to, my head was throbbing, and I was being dragged outside by two men. Graves littered the surrounding landscape. A crowd of people, including Madeline, had assembled by a deep pit a short distance away from me. Next to it was a coffin – a much larger one than I’d ever seen before. Large enough for two bodies. I couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening. But, I *knew*, with a sense of absolute certainty, that I was about to be buried there. I figured my best bet would be to act before they realized I was awake. Throwing all my force into it, I lunged forward, managing, barely, to pull myself free. One of the men dived for me, grabbing my leg and sending me toppling over a headstone. As I scrambled to my feet, I noticed a long metal shovel laying atop a pile of dirt. As one of the men charged at me, I picked up the shovel and frantically swung it. The blade slammed into his cheek, sending him sprawling. “Michael, what are you doing?” cried Madeline. I didn’t respond. My attention was fixed on the man I’d just hit. The force of the blow had somehow fractured his skin. Cracks spread over his face, which then shattered into small pieces that fell onto the ground, revealing the raw bones of his skull and a pair of unblinking, unnaturally bright green eyes. As he got to his feet, seemingly unbothered by the evisceration of his face, my flight instinct kicked in. I remember climbing a fence and ignoring the pain in my ankle when I hit the ground on the other side. I remember the sounds of dozens of footsteps pursuing me, and being too afraid to look back. I remember Madeline’s voice begging me to return. I ran on instinct, retracing my steps as best I could. Figures filled the once deserted streets around me. I ignored their missing faces and the green glow they emitted. I ignored the ones who called for me, who said they *wanted* me, who resembled Audrie, Maria, and so many others whose rejection haunted my mind every time I closed my eyes at night. By the time I reached the platform, I was breathing rapidly and drenched in sweat. Thankfully, a train was already there. I could hear voices resounding through the station behind me. They were getting closer, louder, by the moment. I could tell that the train’s doors were about to close. With my last bit of strength, I dashed forward and dove between them. Pain shot through me as my body thudded onto the hard surface inside. ~ When I awoke, my body ached all over. I was laying on a couch in some kind of office, and a woman I recognized as the employee who had led me to the silver line stood over me. “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked. I was too perplexed to answer. “What…where am I?” “My office at the Nørreport station. Just upstairs from where you started.” “I don’t understand.” She shrugged. “You do not have to. You should go home.” “But…but…” I stammered. “What about the silver line, and things I saw-” “Nobody will be riding the silver line anytime soon. Just closed down for repairs. Go home.” ~ I’ve never fully understood what happened to me that day. The metro employee refused to answer any more of my questions. I never saw her again, or any mention of a silver line even existing. Nor could I find any reference in an atlas to the part of town it had brought me to. Once, before returning to the states, I ran into the bartender who’d been on duty when I’d met Madeline. When I asked him what he remembered about that night, he responded that he recalled me sitting alone, talking to myself for hours. “We did have a regular customer with that name,” he’d continued, after I mentioned Madeline’s full name. “She told me once that we were her favorite bar in town. Haven’t seen her in months, though. I have no idea what happened to her.” ~ My physical wounds – bruises and a sprained ankle – healed relatively quickly, but, inside, I felt shattered. I became reclusive, focusing entirely on my studies and, after graduating, on my work. A few weeks ago, my brother set me up on a date with a friend-of-a-friend who he insisted was a good fit for me. Understandably, I’d spent the last few years utterly detached from the dating scene and avoiding any perceived advances. But, I eventually caved in to my brother’s persistence. Her name is Clara, and, well, my brother was right. She and I formed an instant connection and, so far, we seem to be a perfect match for each other. The other night, we even exchanged a kiss, the first of my life. We were sitting together in my apartment’s living room on a rainy Saturday afternoon when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find a bouquet of lilies and roses sitting on the doormat. “Did you order these?” I asked Clara. She shook her head, her expression puzzled and concerned. A small card pinned to the bouquet displayed a short, handwritten message in black ink. *Death is the great equalizer, Michael. When it comes for you, too, know one thing: I will be waiting.* *Vi ses senere,* *Madeline.* [X](https://www.reddit.com/r/PeaceSim/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qx3jk/madeline/

nosleep

PeaceSim

I bought a haunted doll from eBay and it ruined my life

I’ve always been fascinated by the paranormal, especially haunted dolls. I’ve seen many videos and stories online about people who own them and experience strange things. I wanted to have one for myself, so I decided to look for one on eBay. I found a listing that caught my eye. It was a porcelain doll with blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a pink dress. The seller claimed that the doll was from the 1800s and that it was possessed by the spirit of a girl named Lucy, who died of tuberculosis. The seller said that the doll was very active and that it could move, talk, and even cause poltergeist activity. The seller also warned that the doll was not for the faint of heart and that it could be dangerous if provoked. I was intrigued by the description and decided to buy it. The price was only $50, which seemed like a bargain for such a rare item. I paid with my credit card and waited for the doll to arrive. A few days later, I received a package at my door. It was the doll. I opened it eagerly and took out the doll. It looked exactly like in the pictures, except that it had a crack on its forehead. I assumed that it was damaged during shipping, but I didn’t mind. I thought it added to its charm. I placed the doll on a shelf in my living room and admired it. It looked so innocent and cute. I couldn’t believe that it was haunted. I decided to name it Lucy, after its original owner. That night, I went to bed and fell asleep. Around 3 am, I woke up to a loud thud from downstairs. I got up and went to check what it was. As I walked down the stairs, I heard a faint giggle coming from the living room. I entered the living room and turned on the light. What I saw made me scream in terror. The doll was on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and books. It had fallen from the shelf and knocked over everything in its way. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that the doll had changed. Its eyes were no longer blue, but red. Its mouth was no longer closed, but open in a twisted grin. And its voice was no longer silent, but loud and clear. “Hello there,” it said in a high-pitched voice. “Do you want to play with me?” I ran back to my bedroom and locked the door behind me. I grabbed my phone and called 911. I told them that someone had broken into my house and that they needed to come quickly. As I waited for help, I heard the doll banging on the door. “Let me in! Let me in! I want to play with you!” it shouted. I prayed that it would stop, but it didn’t. It kept banging and banging until the door broke down. And then it came in.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ra1ig/i_bought_a_haunted_doll_from_ebay_and_it_ruined/

nosleep

MazenSamir_

I applied for a Marketing Assistant job and they asked me to take a test. It wasn’t what I expected.

This is probably going to *shock* you, but I’ve been finding it pretty hard to land a job with my PoliSci degree. Crazy, right? I’ve been applying to pretty much anything and everything under the sun. Admin Assistant? Sure! Data Entry? Why not! Digital Content Specialist - not sure what that entails but *hell fucking yes!* Having clocked in at nearly 500 applications with no responses (outside of automated rejection emails, of course), I was naturally starting to sweat a bit. Thankfully, my throwaway application to the “Marketing Assistant” role at NexaNova Systems was able to get a bite. It was a joyous occasion, and soon after my response to their brief email questionnaire, they were already set for me to come onsite to take some sort of “Marketing test”. Deciding to not overthink a good thing, I made my way to their office, located in a part of the city I’d never been to before. I took the elevator up to the seventh floor in the towering, yet somewhat run-down, building that housed them and other companies. As the doors opened, I was met with a depressing-looking reception area and a rather uninspired logo. A nervous-looking man sat at the reception desk. “Amanda… for NexaNova Systems, right? 5 o’clock test?” “That’s right!” I said, as cheerily as I could muster. He looked around, awkwardly drumming at his desk for a while. He grimaced, as if he were deep in thought. Finally, after a painful minute of waiting, he said “Alright, let’s go!” and lifted from his seat. I followed him down the lengthy hallway, past dingy offices and tables with scattered paperwork on them. The office was basically empty - I clocked, like, *one guy* drinking coffee in the kitchen, and maybe *ten* flickering lights on my walk? Disappointed with the office decor thus far, I was tempted to ask the guy escorting me more about what NexaNova Systems did. *Yes,* they did have a website that I scoured during my five minutes of pre-interview prep, but there wasn’t much on it except for vague mentions of market research and ‘top notch product evaluation’. We arrived at the “Testing Room”. That’s what the placard on the door said, anyways. He held it open, and I entered the very long and narrow, almost rectangular-shaped room. It was completely empty inside, save for an old computer on a small desk in the center, a gray folding chair positioned in front of it. As I approached the desk, I noticed a row of windows to my left that unveiled a massive, seemingly endless warehouse below. The receptionist motioned for me to take a seat, and so I did. He booted up the computer, and before I could even ask him any questions, he was already on his way out. I’m pretty sure I heard him half-heartedly mutter “best of luck” before he closed the door behind him. I’ll be honest. I wasn’t particularly excited to work here. *But,* the prospect of being able to afford hot pockets again was enticing, so I decided to press on. I examined the archaic computer that was in front of me. Bulky, beige, 15-inch CRT screen, with a similarly chunky keyboard sitting in front of it. Fucking *prehistoric*, but a welcome throwback to late 90’s computing nonetheless. Ah… what a simple time that was. A time where I could spend my full weekend wrapped in blankets while watching TV. *Send me back there, please.* The computer finished its start-up sequence, and immediately, I was greeted with a form asking questions like my name, my email, and the position I was interviewing for. I promptly filled it out. After that, the test kicked off. The questions were simple at first: “What are the 4 P’s of Marketing?” and “What does *positioning* mean in marketing terms,” stuff that I was able to address reasonably well with my one hour of studying this morning - thank you very much ChatGPT. As I kept up the momentum, carving through the questions with relative ease, I started to feel a bit proud. *Maybe, just maybe, I was assistant material after all?* I wrapped up the section, only to be greeted by a black screen with a small icon of a spinning hourglass on it, indicating that the next screen was loading. Underneath the hourglass, the following text slowly appeared, displayed in a white, jagged, dated-looking font: **“By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. With the universe bearing solemn witness, God, in His infinite majesty, succumbed to the slumber of death.”** *What?* I was by no means up to date on my bible lore - it’d been well over a decade since my mom last forced me to go to church - but I’m pretty sure God *dying on the eighth day* wasn’t part of the King James canon. Before I could muse on this quote for longer, a voice blaring from *somewhere* jolted my attention away. “Don’t worry about that,” said a voice that came through loud, tinny, and mildly distorted. *Is that a PA system?* I turned around and confirmed my suspicion. Nestled in the corner at the junction of two walls and the ceiling, was a PA speaker that looked tarnished from years, nay, decades it seemed, of use. *Is that… a normal thing for… marketing firms?* I turned back to face the computer. The next section had loaded. On the screen was an image crafted in a 2D retro art style reminiscent of old educational games like Oregon Trail and Math Blaster. There was a boy sitting at the edge of his bed in a dimly lit room, watching a TV screen that had cast a pale glow around him. Though mostly static, the image had a subtle animation - a soft twinkling emanating from the TV. At the bottom of the screen, text displaying the following question appeared: **We want the child to remember the JOY of drinking Coca-Cola. Do you recommend:** **(a) Showing him a 10 second ad every 15 minutes?** **(b) Running a 2-minute storytelling ad once every three hours?** I struggled a bit as I thought through the question. I wasn’t sure which cadence was the more effective one. The muffled voice off the PA interrupted my thoughts. “It’s a trick question,” the voice echoed. I raised an eyebrow, instinctively turning around again to look at the PA. As I turned back, I noticed that I’d missed a timer that had been running in the corner of the screen. It had already reached zero. I sat confusedly, wondering what the PA had meant. Suddenly, the child at the edge of the bed started to fade away, vanishing as if he were an apparition. I heard a ‘ding’ sound, indicating I had somehow answered correctly. New text appeared at the bottom of the screen: **“Correct! The child was not real!”** *Huh?* Convinced that this question was some sort of dramatized interpretation of a rule about marketing to children that I had missed, I decided to take the victory. But as I sat, the image of the empty room with the TV playing lingered for longer than I would’ve liked. Finally, the computer transitioned to the next question. On screen, in a similar 2D-animated style, was a gardener donning a sun hat and a green apron, carrying around a watering can, sprinkling pixelated droplets on the flowers in his busy garden. Text appeared at the bottom of the screen: **Jack is thinking about the best digital marketing strategies to utilize for his flower business called JACK’s FLOWERS. What are your suggestions for Jack?** A prompt with an empty text box appeared, awaiting my response. In the background, Jack continued adorably flowering his plants. Not really feeling as ‘in my element’ as before, I typed a generic answer: *Market on Facebook and Instagram?* As soon as I submitted, Jack paused his gardening, glanced up at the screen with a smile, and offered a ‘thumbs up’ in approval. A new text box emerged, accompanied with the instruction, **“Give Jack more advice!”** I thought over what to type next, but as I ruminated, I noticed a shuffling in the bushes in the corner of Jack’s garden. Two bright red eyes appeared in the hedges. Distracted, I carelessly typed another generic answer in the text box: *Do an email marketing campaign?* The text box disappeared, my message received, and again, Jack flashed me a thumbs up. The red-eyed character in the corner of the screen stepped out of the bushes, its full figure now in frame. It was hard to make sense of what the creature was. The smiling, demonic-looking thing was animated in the same artstyle as everything else, and yet, it looked *completely* out of place. It crept towards Jack, holding a pair of hedge shears. New text box appeared. **“Give Jack even more advice!”** I typed: *Turn around Jack, something is coming for you.* But weirdly, as I pressed enter, the text changed right in front of my eyes to: *Focus on your fucking gardening, Jack.* I whispered “what in the ever-loving-fuck is this test?” under my breath as Jack flashed me another sign of approval, and the twisted entity arrived behind him, shears readied. I tensed up, but thankfully, the screen went black. When it returned, it was a tranquil scene in the garden. Jack was nowhere to be seen, and the demented red creature was now the one attending to the plants. *Except*, the plants looked to be twice as large now, and the pixelated droplets falling from the watering can looked *a bit too red* to be water. Genuinely disturbed at how morbid this test was, not to mention thrown off by how dark the room had gotten all of a sudden, I was again greeted by the crackle of the PA system. “Fair warning,” the amplified voice reverberated through the room, “This next question requires a very fast answer.” *Oh great.* The image on screen shifted from the garden to the next, similarly-styled 2D animation: the disturbing scene of a woman, bound in ropes, being lowered into a large bed of spikes. A timer in the corner of the screen was counting down from 20 as a new question appeared: **Keeping psychological pricing in mind, what should the price of the bed of spikes should be?** **(a) $11.00** **(b) $10.99** **(c) $9.50** *Aaaand I think I’m done here.* I got up from the chair, now convinced that this whole thing was just some sort of twisted prank, when I caught a movement in the corner of my eye. Glancing towards the windows on my left, which overlooked the vast warehouse beneath the interview room, I noticed a rope swiftly descend down, with what I could’ve *sworn* was a person attached to its tail end. In a panic, I rushed to sit back down, half-hoping that I had just hallucinated that. The counter descended down from 9, 8, 7, 6… and with the animated woman now seconds from impalement, I hastily guessed ‘B’. *Ding!* The sound from the computer indicated that my answer was correct. But… on-screen, the rope-bound woman still tumbled down into the bed of spikes. Despite the dated graphics, it was a nightmarish sight. I sat still for a moment. Then, in a strange reflex that betrayed my usual timid self, I got up from my seat and walked towards the windows to look into the warehouse room. As I peered down, I saw a bed of spikes - a near-perfect 3D replica of what I’d seen on the computer screen, out below in the vast room. Beside this, a woman stood, her arms triumphantly raised. To her left and right, there were two individuals who helped steady her upright stance. A banner unfurled in the warehouse with the words “She’s Alright!” written on it, confetti falling all around the scene below. *Seriously, what the fuck is this.* As I tried to make sense of the sight, I noticed that the woman, though apparently in a celebratory pose, was leaking blood. The people at her sides were propping her body up, and especially, holding her neck up, but the holes in her body made it very clear that she *had, in fact,* been impaled. The lights in the warehouse room immediately flickered off. I was now staring into a sea of black. I stepped away from the window and made a beeline for the room’s exit. Whatever the hell this test was, or this fucking job for that matter, I wanted *nothing* to do with it. A voice from the PA blared, seemingly in reaction. “Don’t worry, she’s safe. Didn’t you read the banner?” I pulled at the door. It was locked. *Of course it was fucking locked.* I pounded at it, continuing to pull as hard as I could. Static from the PA crinkled as more words came through. “There isn’t that much left in the test–” “Get me the fuck out of here!” I yelled. A pause, as if the voice was thinking. Then, more hissing from the PA system. “You can leave when the test is over. Promise.” “I’m not *fucking interested in this job anym–*” “The hallway isn’t safe right now,” said the speaker, cutting me off. “Please.” Weirdly, despite the muffled, overmodulated quality of the PA voice, something in the delivery of those words sounded *authentic*. Also, the hallway, which now had most of its lights off, looked… different. *Narrower*. There were fewer offices lining the halls, fewer bulletin boards, heck, the actual *lightbulbs* looked different. The more I stared, the more I noticed a disconnect between the walls I remembered walking down and the ones I was looking at now. *Where the fuck am–* “Please take a seat,” the voice echoed. I thought about it. Staring into the hallway was bringing about a more and more uncomfortable feeling in my chest with each passing second. Staving off my body’s urge to hyperventilate, I obliged with the tinny voice’s request and returned to my seat, hoping the test would offer a distraction, more than anything else. A video player popped up on the computer screen, with text below it reading: **“Let’s do a recap of your journey thus far!”** I pressed play on the video, hoping that its content would somehow alleviate my mounting anxiety. The video was 30 seconds long. It contained three equal-length snippets. First, it displayed footage of… me. A *younger* me. No more than ten years old, playing with toys in my room. The closet door in my childhood room hung open, and within its shadows, a pair of glowing red eyes stared out. Next, it was footage of *teenage* me, sitting in a high school exam hall taking a test. A comical-looking arrow was overlaid on the screen, pointing at the door in the distant corner of the room. Outside the door, the glare of faint, red eyes could be seen. Finally, I saw grainy footage of me… from earlier today… coming in for the interview. Except, the footage showed me approaching the building while walking… backwards. Through the lobby, and towards the elevator… backwards. And then, all the way to the interview room, backwards, with no one escorting me. By this point, I was on the edge of breaking. I shrunk into myself, fearing that any sudden movement, or hell, even me just *turning around* at this point, would bring about some horrible fate. So… I just focused on the test. I hoped that if I drowned everything else out, and kept my attention on the horrific nonsense on the screen, that somehow, I’d be safe from the rest of the world. I pushed down the urge to cry, barf, jump out the window, and kept myself paralyzed. *If I make myself small enough, I can get through this.* Terrible logic, I know. The spinning hourglass signifying the ‘loading screen’ stuck around for a few minutes. Then, it transitioned to the next part of the test. The screen now displayed an animated family of three sitting at a dining table, sunlight streaming in from the large window behind them. Mother and daughter sat on opposite sides of the table, while the father faced the screen. The artstyle and graphics looked more modern than the earlier parts of the test. After a brief moment, the image transformed. Mother and daughter were still eating dinner the same as before, but the father was now… aggressively smiling. His being looked as if it were somehow… oscillating, almost aflame? There was a hand on his shoulder placed by a cosmic-looking figure standing beside him. The figure radiated a brilliant blue. The window outside now showcased a world that was much darker, with swirls of black and crimson red streaming in. A prompt appeared at the bottom of the screen. The counter in the corner was already at 5 and dropping down as the question appeared: **The new God of our world has just pitched a** ***very*** **intriguing idea to this man. Do you have a better pitch?** And as soon as the text box appeared for me to type my answer, it was already gone, and a weird buzzing sound played, indicating that I’d gotten the question wrong. The image transformed again. The father was smiling, almost staring right at me. His hands were resting on the table, each holding a fork and knife with pride. The cosmic figure beside him had similarly turned to face the screen. Mother and daughter were no longer there. As I tried to make sense of the image, I noticed a leg peeking out from under the dinner table, obscured by the tablecloth. A flashing arrow appeared, pointing directly to the space under the table. Text appeared at the screen’s bottom: **The MOTHER and the DAUGHTER are now underneath the table. Would you like to see them?** *No. I’d rather not.* The arrow kept blinking, while the father and the cosmic figure’s images seemed to somehow intensify. I kept my eyes closed for the next minute. Eventually, I squinted to see the relieving sight of the screen turning to black. *Please let this be over. Please let this cursed, miserable fucking experience be–* I heard a strange, hollow sound come from the computer as the next section loaded. With respect to Bill Gates and the fine people at Microsoft, what I saw next was something that was beyond the capabilities of a computer seemingly running on Windows 99. On screen was *incredibly high quality* video footage of… outer space? As if an astronaut deep in the cosmos had a GoPro strapped to their helmet or something. I heard the sounds of deep, rhythmic breathing as this unknown individual gently rotated amidst the expanse, surrounded by stars in the sea of black. Large, white text appeared in the middle of the screen: **Sell Him On The Stars** And then a rudimentary-looking text box appeared over some of the most high-quality space footage I’d ever seen in my life. It didn’t make any sense. *What the fuck am I supposed to do here?* I typed a generic-as-hell answer that even I didn’t fully believe: *Isn’t the universe beautiful?* I pressed enter and the text box disappeared. Suddenly, in the black abyss on screen, the distant stars started fading away, one by one, like light bulbs dimming. The heavy breathing continued, as the presumed astronaut mumbled in a language that sounded otherworldly. Soon, there were only a few stars remaining. As they flickered off, I heard the voice mutter, almost cry, in plain English: “It’s so beautiful.” The screen remained black for quite some time. But something in me stirred. I knew that there was still something left. An attempted whisper over the PA confirmed just as much. “Last question,” resounded the voice off the speaker system. I readied myself. The new image finished loading. On screen, there was a… pretty cheerful, generic-looking 2D animated guy standing in a living room. He looked like the Office Assistant Clippy had come to life or something. He had his finger placed on top of a light switch, the living room window beside him showcasing the cosmos. *Alright, last question…* The animated character shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated manner, with a speech bubble appearing beside his head. It read: **“Should we join God in his slumber?”** A flashing arrow pointed to the light switch. *What?* He opened the window in his room, revealing a zoomed-out view of the Milky Way — the same Milky Way image I’d seen in like a million textbooks growing up. The word bubble next to his mouth had new words now: **“Is this product at the end of its lifecycle?”** I was stirring, confused. A text box appeared. I typed *‘No’*. “Why?” responded the character with an annoyed, exasperated sigh. Immediately, graphic real-life images flashed across the screen over a split-second: the decapitated gardener’s blood pouring into a bed of flowers, the red-eyed entity emerging from the closet in my room, the mother and daughter underneath the dinner table… As I recoiled in fear, the character was suddenly back on screen, back in his living room. He broke into a comically sad gesture as his speech bubble updated: **“But there is so much suffering here.”** It’s funny. It felt like I’d hit rock bottom when I first entered the lobby. But somehow, the floor on this thing kept getting lower and lower. The character motioned to the Milky Way galaxy outside his window. Then he looked at me intently. **“Justify the existence of this product.”** A new text box appeared, awaiting my input. In the corner of the screen, a timer started counting down from 20, 19… *Christ dude, I am not cut out for this. Matter of fact, I’m not cut out for anything.* 18, 17… Slowly, the room started rumbling. I was suddenly concerned about what would happen if I didn’t answer the question. 16, 15… *Fuck, I just wanted a fucking job. Does everything in my stupid, sad life have to be a nightmare?* 14, 13… *If I knew how to justify this fucking product I wouldn’t be here interviewing for a fucking shit marketing assistant job for no fucking money with no fucking life or career prospects Jesus fucking–* 12, 11… Through the now-erratic rumbling of the room, which felt like a full-blown earthquake at this point, I heard a voice barely croak through the PA: “I believe in you.” 10, 9… *There has to be some fucking reason for this to exist.* 8, 7… I searched my brain for a reason. Thinking through my experience of adult life so far, I struggled to find a good one. 6, 5… A memory dislodged itself from my subconscious. Maybe it was jogged by the CRT screen, or the 90s graphics of this ‘test’. 4… A memory of me as a kid… Sitting on the sofa… 3… Covered in blankets… Drinking hot cocoa… 2… Watching a Christmas movie I can’t remember the name of… 1… I forced my words into the text box before it disappeared: **its osmeitmes occasioanly oczy** The split-second before the textbox disappeared, I could’ve sworn that the typos had, *somehow*, been corrected. The galaxy now appeared on screen in high-definition, the revised text triumphantly appearing underneath it in a jagged, dated-looking white font. **The Universe: It’s sometimes, occasionally cozy.** I won’t lie to you, it looked pretty stupid. We were back to the animated living room, the character now tapping on his chin. He lifted his finger. “I like it! Well done! You, my friend, are *quite* the marketer!” Before I could even process the compliment, the screen fractured with a loud crack. Smoke seeped from the computer’s vents, accompanied by a whirring and sizzling sound. Heart racing, I jumped up from the chair and backed away. *I guess… the test is over?* The lights in the test room, the hallways outside, and the warehouse visible through the window all flickered back on simultaneously. I nervously stepped towards the door, and finding it unlocked as I pulled, I ran out of the room screaming. I held my fists up while sprinting, as dozens of scattered employees - including, I shit you not, the woman I previously saw get impaled - all clapped for me. The sight of them surrounding me and cheering was *not* helpful. I’m pretty sure it only made me scream louder as I escaped. I arrived at the elevator - doors already open - and lunged inside, hastily jabbing the ‘close door’ button. The receptionist, voice no longer warbled by the PA, was barely able to squeak out “I knew you could do it!” before the doors shut on him. *What. The. Fucking. Christ.* I made it home. The next few days were a blur of sleep, drinking, sex and denial. It took me a week to feel comfortable checking my emails again. When I did, I was, for reasons I still don’t quite understand, oddly disappointed that NexaNova Systems hadn’t sent me another email. *Kinda thought I nailed that test, no?* I looked up the job posting again, but it was now inconspicuously missing. *In fact*, their whole website was gone. I looked up their address on Google Maps, but there was no history of them ever being in that building… or them *existing in the first place*, for that matter. All I had was that initial email they’d sent me. Hrm. Well. *At least they liked my resume, I guess.* Anywho… back to the grind. These bills aren’t going to pay for themselves, unfortunately! If anyone reading has any job leads I should look into, let a girl know. I’m motivated, I’m a hard worker, and I suppose I can now say that I work pretty well under pressure.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qyjgi/i_applied_for_a_marketing_assistant_job_and_they/

nosleep

WorldAwayTweedy

Happy Anniversary

Ten years ago, something crawled into my brain. I’m not quite sure what it was. But I’ve suffered the consequences. Soon enough, you’ll suffer as well. I don’t know what that looks like, not for you, but you will feel pain. It will hurt in ways that you can’t imagine. And it will feel personal, like it’s meant for you and you alone. Custom made. You’ll try to explain it to others, but they won’t understand. They’ll claim to, but they’ll be lying. Fuck them and their bullshit. You’ll feel your pain, but don’t worry: they’ll feel theirs as well, and it will feel personal. It always feels personal. Because it’s supposed to. I was at work that night, ten years ago, saving lives and doing noble things, because that’s what I used to do. I heard the faintest buzzing sound, accompanied by a barely perceptible buzzing and I ignored it. Like I said, I was doing noble things. I was saving lives. The irony of that is fucking delectable. The buzzing got louder, the vibrations more pronounced, and still, I tried to ignore it. I stood there and closed my eyes as the creature, my creature, flew inside of my ear, and whispered a single word: “Death.” The softest and loudest word I’ll ever hear. You don’t understand this, not fully, but you will. I heard this, and I was floored, gobsmacked, whatever fucking colloquialism that suits you best. “Death.” A message, an omen, a harbinger of misery. All of my past sins revealed. All of my present fears realized. All of my future hopes and dreams, crushed. I stumbled out of work, overwhelmed. What are you supposed to do, when the Devil himself decides to send you a message? Whether or not you deserved it, you’re one guy. You did your best. You did noble things. You saved lives. What the fuck are you supposed to do? That night, ten years ago, I drove to a gas station. I filled up my gas tank. I snapped into a Slim Jim. I smiled at the clerk. And then I ripped his head off. No, really. I legit walked behind the counter, he seemed like a nice enough guy, but he was kind of scrawny, and I’m not. I had this demon creature buzzing in my brain, and all I could focus on was death. So I created death. It wasn’t personal. But for the rest of you, it will be personal. At least it will feel that way. Side note: it never occurred to me to dip Slim Jims in the blood gushing from someone’s carotid artery, but not gonna lie, the shit added something. Savory and sweet, I approve. The buzzing died down after that, until eleven months later. And then one night, it crept up on me, and then once again,, that voice. So soft, so loud. “Death.” Luckily for convenience store personnel everywhere, my gas tank was full when I heard that voice. Which sucks for the woman working at the front desk of the adjacent hotel. Sorry for your family’s loss. I felt badly, even sent them an Edible Arrangement, because at that point, I had no idea what to do with this buzzing in my head, this voice, this demon creature. It’s been ten years, but now I know. I finally know exactly what I’m supposed to do. And now that I do, you will suffer, and it will feel personal, because it’s supposed to. Happy anniversary. I’ll see you soon.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16rdqos/happy_anniversary/

nosleep

Roysterhead

I was taken to a dead city in another world (part 1)

Part 1 [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/14n99ro/i\_was\_taken\_to\_a\_dead\_city\_in\_another\_world\_part\_1/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/14n99ro/i_was_taken_to_a_dead_city_in_another_world_part_1/) ​ Part 2 Desperate, I watched Foras out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to watch me in return, though his eyes constantly flicked back to the road. I saw the headlights reflecting off strange eyes in the alleyways and buildings, but whenever I turned to look, only the shadows remained. I had my seatbelt on, and Foras didn’t. He must have felt confident in his abilities, and unconcerned with a car crash. I knew he had power, and I quickly formulated a suicidal plan. I accelerated the car. Ahead of us, I saw a light pole with a long-dead, dessicated corpse hanging from a fraying noose. I tried to line up the passenger side of the car directly with the metal pole. Holding my breath, I closed my eyes as the car closed the last few feet, still accelerating, engine roaring. I couldn’t have been going more than forty miles an hour, but it sent Foras flying through the shattered windshield. The driver’s side airbag deployed, smashing me in the face so hard I saw stars. I felt blood gushing from my nose, and the world seemed to go dark for a few seconds. The engine hissed, spitting coolant and transmission fluid in great, steaming gouts that puddled under the car. After regaining my senses, I looked up to see Foras. He lay on the hood of the car, moaning and moving his hands in random circles. Blood streamed from a deep gash on his skull and covered his inhuman face. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Stumbling, my fingers trembling, I undid the seatbelt and opened the driver’s door, falling on the cracked pavement below. I breathed hard, then with a sudden burst of will, I pushed myself up. Foras still grunted incomprehensible sounds, apparently unaware of where he was. I heard him repeating the same nonsense over and over: “Ennngh, ennng, ahh, uhhh, mah…” he said, clenching and unclenching his twisted fingers. I thought of just choking him then and there, while he was seemingly weak and defenseless- but I didn’t know how defenseless he actually was, even in this weakened state. Moreover, I had no idea how to get back to my world, and killing the only being who I felt sure knew the way might backfire spectacularly, dooming me here for the rest of my life. I decided to book it as fast as I could and leave him there, bleeding on the crumpled front of the car. I started walking fast, stumbling slightly as a sharp pain ran up my leg. When I felt I had mostly regained my balance after the crash, I started jogging away. Looking back towards the car, I saw him getting up slowly, trying to push himself off the hood of the car with his long, strange fingers. He fell back down on the hood, then reached down with shaking hands and took something out of one of his bound leather satchels, placing it in his mouth. I took a left into the first alleyway I found. This whole city was a horrorshow, a deluge of nightmares. Rotting corpses lay everywhere, and I saw a dumpster at the end of the alleyway filled to the brim with body parts. Decomposing legs, arms, chests and hands, all sliced off, had been thrown into the dumpster haphazardly, like common refuse. One hand limply reached out, as if trying to motion for help. It had blackened fingernails and the thumb was missing. The body parts overflowed the dumpster, a cloud of bugs buzzing around it. The smell, as I got near, was overwhelming. I gagged, moving to the other side of the alley, trying to put as much distance between myself and that dumpster as humanly possible. It was an odor like rotting tomatoes mixed with feces and rancid meat. But before I left that city, I would see- and smell- much more like it. I took random turns left and right through the streets and alleyways, trying to put as much distance as possible between myself and Foras. Paranoid, I kept hearing imaginary footsteps, but it was always just the echo of my own. In one alleyway, I saw what looked like a mutated racoon standing at the far end. It was the size of a German shepherd, with huge tumors and fibroid growths all over its body. I saw a fifth paw hanging down underneath its stomach, boneless and stunted. It gnawed on the corpse of an old woman that had long since dessicated, chewing open her bones and trying to suck out the marrow with its twisted, stained teeth. The racoon didn’t notice me, or the strange silhouette slowly sneaking up behind it. As soon as I saw movement, I quickly looked around and saw a stainless steel garbage can with dark, thick fluid that dripped down the exterior. When I hurriedly peered down, part of me expecting to see Foras’ inhuman, grinning face in there, I found something nearly as horrible. I saw the garbage can was filled with rotting dogs and cats, piled one on top of another like cordwood. For a moment, I was so horrified that I almost forgot what I was doing. Then my brain screamed at me to move, to hide, and I lunged to the side, hoping the man on the far end of the alleyway hadn’t seen me. I held my breath, trying not to inhale the overwhelmingly rancid stench that radiated from the can. Decomposing animals smell different from rotting human corpses, as anyone with “experience” in both can attest to. Rotting corpses always had more of a rotten tomato smell combined with a sewage smell, compared to the musky odor that mixed in with the putrefying meat of a dead animal. Both were absolutely horrible, some of the worst smells I had ever experienced. At first, I thought it was some sort of deformed monster, with irregular growths and fibroid tissue standing out all over its body. Then I saw it was just a man, some sort of mutant or victim of a genetic disorder or radioactivity, or maybe something even worse. He had a bat with nails sticking out of it, and before the mutated racoon could turn its head, he had whipped the far end of the bat into the top of its skull. The racoon crumbled to the ground with a soft exhalation of air. My first instinct was to run, but something in the man’s demeanor made me think he wasn’t the monster I at first believed. He walked in a childish way and talked to himself. I could hear the sad words he muttered in a low voice, echoing off the brick walls of the alleyway. “More raccoon,” he said. “I’m so sick of eating racoon alone every night. I wish I could find some more jerky… remember when we found that big stash of beef jerky in the bunker? I shouldn’t have eaten it all so fast. Dumb Frankie, never thinking about the future.” He whacked himself, hard, on the side of his deformed head. “Hello?” I called out, overriding my better judgment. I had few options, trapped in this strange, dead city in another world. The man, who had just started dragging the racoon corpse away by the scruff of its neck, immediately froze, his face a comical mask of confusion. He didn’t seem scared at all, but now he noticed me for the first time as I stepped out from behind the garbage can. He looked me up and down. “What’s a normie like you doing in the city?” he asked. I saw one eye had a slanting look, like a fold of skin had partially grown over his eyelid. The other widened comically in surprise as he saw my clothes. “You look like the ones who come through the stairway. Never turns out good, I’ll tell you. They don’t know what they’re doing, coming down those stairs.” He dropped the racoon’s body and quickly strode over to me, moving much faster than his size would suggest. He put out his huge, scarred hand. I stared at it for a moment, confused. Then I reached out and shook it. I felt his iron grip crush the bones in my hand, and tried not to wince. I looked at him closer, and realized he looked similar to the Elephantman, except far more solidly built and mobile. He had the same strange growths emerging from his face and body, however. They didn’t hide the bulging muscles underneath. “I’m Frankie,” he said, smiling, showing his few remaining teeth. “I used to live here with my family…” He motioned to the destroyed ruins of the city around us. “But after the bomb, my momma… she disappeared. I miss her so much. I keep looking, hoping I’ll see her again, but I don’t think she’s here anymore. I think I’m all alone now.” He looked like he was about to cry. I had no idea what to say. “I’m Jason,” I said. “I’m sorry about your mother, Frankie. Do you know your way around this place?” His sad expression evaporated, and he smiled again, the corners of his mouth forming a partial smile, which seemed as far as he could move them. It made me feel sad to watch him. He had a sense of innocence and friendliness that contrasted heavily with the hellish conditions surrounding him. He seemed like he was mentally somewhat slow, but he also had a sense of confidence in his ability to survive in this apocalyptic wasteland, which I admired. “Of course. Didn’t I say I grew up here? There’s a building near here, very strange, though. It changes often. The passageways move around, the doors switch places, and it leads down… very deep. I don’t go down to the bottom.” He shuddered. “It’s filled with horrible things.” I was about to respond when I heard a strange humming noise. It sounded ethereal, almost like a gong or a singing bowl, and yet the sound also seemed to get into my bones and made my eyes water. Even now, a few years later, my eyes water just thinking about it. It was one of the most jarring and horrendous sounds I’ve ever heard. Frankie’s eyes widened in horror. He dropped the racoon and grabbed me by the arm. He ran towards the street. As soon as we came out on the street, my breath caught in my throat. One of the largest buildings I had ever seen stood there, the color of polished silver. I saw windows spiraling around the exterior of it, like the stairs on a lighthouse. Looking up, I couldn’t even see the top of it. It seemed to simply fade into the dirty gray clouds above our heads. “No time to look now!” Frankie whispered, a tone of urgency in his voice. “Come on!” He pulled me forward to the other side of the huge street, across twelve lanes of cracked concrete and rubble. He ran into the shattered glass doors of the massive skyscraper. I heard shards of glass and rusted nails cracking underneath my steel-toed shoes, and I was glad I had come from work and hadn’t been wearing sandals. That humming seemed more insistent, higher-pitched- and closer. I turned to look quickly, and I saw Foras coming out of the alleyway, a look of fury and hatred twisting his bleached-white face. His eyes blazed, and he kept snapping his head to the left and right, almost certainly looking for me. As he got closer, the humming grew louder, and I saw him holding the same pebble he had held to the demonic boy’s face as he had died. Though tiny, it gave off a strange black light that threw twisting shadows over the rubble and ruined buildings outside. I realized, with horror, that he was using it as some sort of tracking device, to find me and very likely kill me. He still had dried blood staining his face, and I saw fresh drops running down his scalp. He ignored them and, like a bloodhound berserk with the scent of its prey, moved forwards towards me. “You need to hide!” Frankie said urgently, and he pointed at the corner of the lobby. I saw a hatchway sitting open. “The bunker. Let’s go.” Without any more urging, I sprinted towards it. Frankie went down first, and I followed. As I poked my head out, reaching up to grab the hatch, I saw Foras only feet from the shattered glass doors of the skyscraper. As quietly as possible, I lowered it, pulling out my phone to shine some light, and I turned the steel wheel, locking us inside. I used the light to catch up with Frankie, who seemed to know the tunnels so well that he could navigate them in the dark. He turned his deformed face towards me, smiling and excited, a childish glee evident from his expression. “He won’t be getting through that!” Frankie said. “That’s a bomb door. It was built for the big ones- the H bomb and the antimatter one.” “What is this place?” I asked. “They call it Sanctuary,” he said. “There’s an entire underground town in here. This is where General Matheson used to run his government from. It goes up 200 stories! How do they build it so big?” I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said. “So do people live down here?” He frowned at the question, thinking for a long moment. Then his eyes widened. “People?” he asked. “No, no people…” “OK,” I said. “No people? So what does that mean?” “Well,” he said, “other things do like to live down here. It’s a big place, you know. Even I haven’t explored most of it. But sometimes, the pigmen get in here. And the snakes. I usually run when the snakes get in here.” He shuddered. “What kind of snakes?” I asked. “Like… rattlesnakes?” His expression stayed stoic for a long moment as he considered the question, then he began to laugh, a sound like a child amused by a dirty joke. “You mean those little ones with the rattle on their tail in the deserts?” he said, still chuckling. “No, no. I mean snakes. Usually about my height, and as long as…” He pointed down to the end of the tunnel, a few hundred feet away. I groaned. “Some people also think General Matheson lives under Sanctuary,” he said. “But the tunnels further down run for hundreds of lengths, you know.” I didn’t know what a “length” was, but when he explained in his slow, plodding way, I figured out it meant about half a mile. Or so I guessed, anyway. “Why would General Matheson live down here?” I said, genuinely curious now. The story Foras had told me had intrigued me. It reminded me of certain events that had occurred on Earth, my Earth, though nothing nearly as catastrophic as this. “He disappeared during the War,” Frankie said. “He was last seen in Sanctuary, running down the stairs, when the antimatter bomb hit.” He shrugged. “The true believers still think General Matheson is down here, waiting to come back and lead everyone into glory and power.” He gave a low laugh. “The Iron Servants have looked, though, and they haven’t seen a bit of him. I think he’s dead. I think he’s been dead. But some people will never believe that.” I wondered if he was right, when the ground started to shake. I thought an earthquake had started, but Frankie’s horror seemed to suggest much more than that. “The snakes,” he whispered, his eyes haunted. ​ Part 3 [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/172imd8/i\_was\_taken\_to\_a\_dead\_city\_in\_another\_world\_part\_3/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/172imd8/i_was_taken_to_a_dead_city_in_another_world_part_3/) ​

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qwxn0/i_was_taken_to_a_dead_city_in_another_world_part_1/

nosleep

CIAHerpes

Whisper

Have you heard of a woman who carved out her own eyes because God said so? Yeah. I'm talking about the woman who was on drugs and did it out of psychosis. Well, that's what they said but that's not what I saw. I not only saw how she carved out her own eyeballs, but I was also beside her when that happened and I'm telling you, it's not because of drugs. I was minding my own business, eating ice cream by the fountain, when a woman sat not too far from me. She was wearing a denim dress and a tattered sneakers, her black hair healthy and long. We met each other's eyes and smiled to acknowledge each others presence and went back to what we were doing. This girl was drawing something on her sketchpad and I don't know what it is but she looked so peaceful drawing it. When I was done eating, I grabbed my bag on the ground and composed myself to walk away. I was never really good at leaving someone behind, even if it's a stranger, so I was actually building up my courage to say 'bye' and be on my way. But when I tried to call her attention, I noticed something strange. There was a hazy shadow behind this girl, shaped like a humanoid figure but not distinct. It's like the thing is here but when you focus on it, it's blurry and seems like a transparent figure, blending in the background. Then suddenly, the shadow crouched down and whispered something in her ear in an erratic way. The shape of the shadow glitching and disappearing. When the shadow totally disappeared out of view, the girl froze, letting her pencil fall on the ground. I tried to talk to her but I got no answer. I waved my hand over her face, still no reaction so I decided to leave her. As I was about to leave, I unconsciously covered my ears when I heard the most blood-curling scream from the girl. Keep in mind we're only meters apart so it was sickening. I snapped my head to her direction and the girl was now standing and looking up to the sky, still screaming. And in that moment, I knew I was going to remember this scene forever. The black-haired girl, scooped her eyeball with her hands while laughing maniacally. I froze on the spot, not knowing what to do while she chewed on her first eyeball. Blood was gushing and dripping down her face when she was about to scoop her second one but the cops got to her real quick. You'd be relieved that her one eye was saved but I kid you not, she bit the other cop's arm and scooped her eye so fast and swallowed it. I think the cop was traumatized because he fainted when he looked at the eyeless human in front of him, laughing and giggling. The girl collapsed and eventually died from blood loss. The people who witnessed it says that she was on drugs to rationalize what the woman did to herself but I know. I know that there are things out there that cause chaos for fun and part of their fun is playing with people's minds, making them do unimaginable things to themselves. I believe it because I've been noticing things in my apartment that I swear I consciously didn't do it but it was there anyways. Like buying cartons of meat and storing it in the fridge, feeling groggy for slitting my wrists, and I feel like it's whispering something to me right now. I just can't seem to understand it but I think I--

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qxl0s/whisper/

nosleep

pntbttrsndwch

Have You Heard Of The Back Door Game?

My daughter was having a sleepover for her 13th birthday and had invited about half her classmates. It was roughly 10:30pm, the girls had finally settled in the living-room and were watching horror films on scattered blankets, duvets and pillows. At 00:22, I woke to the most harrowing choir of screams. I ran down the stairs within a micro second. All the girls were clustered next to each other in the far corner, terrified, cowering under their blankets. "What the *hell* is going on?!" Nobody spoke. They all just looked at me, genuinely scared. I slid across the floor on my knees to my daughter and gently shook her as she stared into nothing. "Sweetheart, what's happened? What's going on?" "Mom?!...Mom! I'm so so sorry! We never should've done it! It was supposed to just be a game!" "What? What's just a game?" But before she could answer, we jumped from the sudden loud knocking coming from the back door. The room fell completely silent, apart from the knocking, and we all stopped breathing. **Knock...Knock...knock...** "Who's that?" I asked the room, confused. No one answered, and I was starting to get very frustrated. "Some one had best tell me what this game is you've been playing, or so help me--" "Every game has rules." The girl in the corner spoke almost purposely slow and quiet, but at least one of them finally answered. Her young and mono toned voice added an even creepier feeling to the room that I was not expecting, and a cold shiver spread over me as I listened and absorbed her information. "The Back Door Game has 6 rules: 1, at precisely midnight, dial 363636 from any phone. 2, wait on the line for 36 seconds and a clicking sound will start. 3, Hang up the phone and wait another 36 seconds, after which, the phone will ring. 4, answer the phone and count how many clicks you hear. Once the clicks have stopped, Hang up the phone and head to the back door." I swear this kids voice was getting creepier and scarier the more and more she spoke. My mind skipped over the idea that this could still be all one big joke in attempt to make me jump or something, but that look in their eyes was something so awful, you could not fake it. "5, knock on the back door the amount of times you heard the clicks. And 6, wait for HIM to respond." This is where I have to interject. "Woah woah woah woah, HIM? Who's him? And what do you mean by respond?" "He responds by knocking back." I swear the girl smiled. "That's when you open the door, and let him in." **Knock...Knock...Knock...** I slowly crept to the back window. From there, if anyone were in the garden or at the backdoor, I would be able to clearly see them. I whipped open the curtain and abruptly looked outside wearing my, *'I'm-not-scared-of-you!'* expression, and...nothing. There was nothing. No one at the door, no one in the garden. Nothing. My heart began to slow. I leaned in closer to the glass to inspect the outside better. I got closer and closer, my breath creating condensation on the glass. I squinted my eyes, almost as if to zoom in on the garden, then...**knock!**...My body flew backwards to the floor with a hard and painful thud. **Knock!**... *'What?! How can there be knocking?! There was NO ONE THERE!'* **Knock!**... *'Fuck!'* All the children were now screaming hysterically, but that haunting knock was still somehow much louder. **KNOCK!!!** One girl started screaming, "LET IT IN!" I did a bad backwards crab and scrambled on my hands and heels towards the kids. "LET IT IN!...LET--" "NO! SHUT UP! JUST...FUCKING SHUT UP!" I didn't mean to swear at her, we were all terrified, but she wasn't exactly helping. My mind raced back to all the movies I'd watched and screamed at for them to just run and leave the house. I looked at my daughter, at all the children standing in my living room. *'Get. Them. Out!'* I scrambled to my feet and quickly ushered everyone out the front door. While we all stood in our night gear in the middle of our cul de sac street, I called all the girls parents and demanded they come pick them up. I also called the police, not thinking ahead to how ridiculous and crazy my story will come across to them, but explained what happened nonetheless. And yeah, they thought I was crazy. It turns out, that when they checked with the other girls, non of them had any recollection of even being at the sleep over. Over the course of the next 5 days, my daughter went blind. She would later tell me that all of the other girls slowly went blind too. The doctors put the mystery blindness down to parasites, and the police shrugged off my story and put it down to lack of sleep and stress. I haven't told anyone else about this, afraid of being called crazy again I guess. But let me tell you this, I have not yet opened my back door. I hear clicking whenever I use a phone, any phone. Its starting to engrave in my mind, I hear it over and over, click click click click click...I receive a hand written note everyday with the same three words written in black, 'Let Him In!' No matter how fast I am at retrieving the note and opening my front door, there's never anybody there. And every night, no matter where I am, I hear that dreadful and haunting knock.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qjl3k/have_you_heard_of_the_back_door_game/

nosleep

Waiting4MidMoon

What the hell is going on at my job? The Basement

Here is the link to the first part of my story: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16hrlpp/what\_the\_hell\_is\_going\_on\_at\_my\_job/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16hrlpp/what_the_hell_is_going_on_at_my_job/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Hey y'all. Sorry it's been over a week. I've been pretty busy dealing with this shit and actual work. I did end up going back to work, I couldn't take not knowing what happened. And I wanted to get in touch with the other closers. Thanks for the suggestions! They've been helpful and good material to think on. It actually helped guide me a bit. This is only going to be about the next day, I wanted to break it up so I didn't write a book for y'all. I'm at a place where I have a little more spare time now, sorry to keep y'all waiting! So, the next day I went into work still very much freaked out and horribly curious. Luckily  I came in before the opener left so I could ask her about the cameras. Once I clocked in and put my stuff away I went to find her. She was in the back taking care of the boarding dogs and prepping dinners. I jumped right in to help her grabbing some bowls for dinners and to talk. "Mona!" I called out, waving. She waved back though she seemed really out of it. "Hey! Good, I need to talk to you." She mentioned as she sorted through the feeding guides and dog food brought by the parents for their pups. She updated me on the work stuff first, which dogs left or any new or important info about the dogs staying. We went back and forth a bit as we finished prepping the meals, then she touched my shoulder. "Also, listen. I did watch the cameras from last night. I want you to come into the office with me." I nodded, muttering an 'okay' and followed her back to the office. I could feel my heart beat- it almost felt like I was in trouble. We both took seats at the desk with security monitors. "So, it was really weird. I saw you left at like 11:40 last night," She shuffled back through the video and paused it. "and I was wondering if you saw anything inside? You can see a light shining from outside, like someone with a flashlight looking in." She looked at me, waiting. I swallowed, my mind racing. "Well... Maybe? It's hard to say. I heard something from outside but when I looked in... It was too dark, even with my phone light." She nodded turning back to the monitors. "That tracks. Watch." She played the video starting from 11:40pm. You can see me turning off the lights, turning the alarm on, and locking up for the night. After I left it was still for a minute until there was a weird graininess at the top corner by the basement door. It was small and slight at first but the speckling and weird darkness started growing, shifting, and getting faster. It moved first just around the top corner but slowly drifted down towards the floor. "Do you see that?" Mona asked pointing at the screen. "Y-yeah... I do." I felt my breath catch in a lump in my throat. So I wasn't losing it. Here was proof. "I've seen this before but never this bad. " She explained leaning her head onto her hand. The mass shifted, getting darker and darker and growing until it encompassed most of the bottom corner, surrounding it with darkness. Soon it was the same kind of unnatural black I saw even though this was a night vision camera. "Like, what the fuck even is this?" "I have no fucking clue. That's so scary." I watched my light shine in from outside, still not penetrating the thick inky black depths. "It quite honestly scared the shit out of me. I thought about never coming back." "Thank god you did!" She put a hand on my shoulder again, pleading with her eyes. "I appreciate it so much. Listen, this is wild. Will you be okay closing tonight?" "Yeah." I told her softly, though I really don't know why. "I'll keep an eye out and be careful." She gave me a look of concern, I'm sure I didn't sound confident. "If you need anything at all, just call me. I'm here for you, okay?" "Okay Mona. Thank you." We both stood up when I remembered to ask. "Oh, hey, actually. Can I get the numbers of the old closers? I want to see if they saw anything weird like this." I was nervous. She turned to me smiling, but it seemed... off. "Oh, yeah! Great idea! I'll reach out to them for any info. I'll let you know what they say. You can leave the detective work up to me!" She winked. I nodded with an 'allright' and we both left the office, getting back to work. I was worried and anxious, and the whole interaction with Mona seemed off, but I did trust her fully. She had been close with me since I started and was one of the only people I could rely on. I just hoped she had the same urgency as I did to find answers. I'm sure she doesn't want to lose another employee though. Replacing employees is no where near as easy as it used to be. Especially with how our business paid. I started doing my back duties much jumpier than I had ever been with all the dog noises. I also felt this creeping sensation of being watched though I summed that up to being extra heightened after last nights events. I waded through most of my shift with unease but also without incident. Everything went fairly smooth save for a few unruly dogs, but that was normal. I chose not to wear my earbuds that night so I didn't get surprised by anything. I started sweeping the lobby at the very end of my shift, but my eyes kept going back to the bite marks on the basement door. I kept thinking I was hearing things but the radio was off and when I stopped it was silent. I took a deep breath and leaned the broom on the wall. The curiosity was killing me and I had to try. I'd never seen anyone go into the basement. I had no idea what was down there. So I wanted to try, even to just stop thinking about it. I walked up to the door slowly and cautiously. My hand was shaking as I reached out, heart pounding, forgetting to breathe. I took a deep shaky breath and forced my hand the rest of the way to touch the doorknob with my eyes shut. I turned the doorknob only to find it locked. The air let out of my lungs and halfway collapsed from relief, opening my eyes. "Thank god." I laughed, letting go and shaking my arms, turning to go back to sweeping. "That was stupid." I took a few quick steps back before I heard something... again. I froze. It sounded like padded footsteps coming from behind the door. I turned to look, eyes wide, feet still facing away. Once my eyes met the chew marks there was a loud THUD and a deep booming bark. The entire door shook like something was pushing it from behind. I screamed, falling, and scrambling to run out the door. I immediately called Mona once I was outside but it went to her voicemail, it being after midnight she was definitely sleeping. "Mona, h-hey. Did you hear anything back from the closers yet?" I know I sounded panicked, my breath was shaky and I was crying. "Sorry to call so late. There's something in the basement, Mona. The fucking door shook. It's locked, but I don't know what the Fuck is going on. The dogs are taken care of. I'm leaving, I'm sorry, but I can't stay. Call me as soon as you get this, okay?" I was frantic. I hung up the phone realizing I had to go back in for my stuff. My keys were in there. I let out a full guttural yell, jumping a few times before running back inside. As I ran by the door shook more and I heard ethereal barking and growling from behind it. I ran faster, quickly grabbing my stuff, turning the lights off and running back out again to lock up. I still wanted to make sure the dogs were safe but I couldn't stay. There's something completely fucked about this place. Something with the basement. I ran down the street to a nearby gas station to order an uber from there. I smoked 2-3 cigs as I waited. I decided there was no way in hell I was closing again by myself. I can't do it. This is too wild and I don't make nearly enough money to do it. I'll update with more info again sooner than last time. I'm still figuring out what the hell is going on. Now it's become a deep morbid curiosity of mine. And I don't know how much Mona actually knows or is holding back. The next update should be in a few days. Besides being busy, I've needed to take a mental break from everything going on. I'm back on my day shift now so I'm safe. But in the process of playing detective and putting pieces together. Today, I'm going to break into the basement. Wish me luck!

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16r5k8w/what_the_hell_is_going_on_at_my_job_the_basement/

nosleep

alluringashes

I will never be awake past midnight again.

I have a habit of staying on my cell phone after eleven o'clock reading Creepypastas and listening to horror podcasts. They rarely scare me, but they do fill my mind with unrealistic scenarios of entities, monsters and murders. One Saturday night, when the whole neighborhood was already quiet, and I was the only person awake. I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom, with my back to the dark corridor, listening to a horror story through my headphones. Suddenly, I heard a noise of something falling behind me. I quickly paused the story and looked back. Nothing. Just the empty corridor, illuminated by the light from the bathroom. So I decided to go out and look in the direction where the noise seemed to have come from, my bedroom. I went into it and turned on the light. I wasn't scared, just worried that something had fallen and broken in there, but everything was normal, so I thought it was just my head or the story, and went back to doing what I was doing. When I'd finished, I went back to my room and put on my pajamas to go to bed. It was very late, I'd spent all night listening to horror podcasts while playing games, so I was quite sleepy. Until I noticed that the window was wide open. Something that surprised me for a few seconds because I didn't remember opening the window, well, since it was so hot, maybe I should have done it earlier and I didn't remember. I put on my pajamas, turned off the light and went to bed. I scrolled through my social media feed for a few minutes before putting my cell phone on charge and turning it off. Then I woke up out of nowhere with a panicky feeling taking over my body. I quickly opened my eyes, and a feeling of dread gripped my body as I looked towards the entrance to my room and saw a dark figure with only a white face, standing there and staring at me. My heart raced wildly, almost as if it was going to explode. The thing walked towards me and the door closed on its own behind it, without the thing even putting its hand on it. Then the thing stops next to me and stares at me with those black orbs. On closer inspection, the creature must have been hooded and looked more human. And its white face looked more like a mask now. I felt sweat beading on my forehead. Then something clicked in my mind. I remembered the stories I used to read and how they filled my mind. It could only be a sleep paralysis, and the thing must have been an amalgam of everything I'd been imagining all day. And then, in the midst of the excitement caused by my relief, I abruptly moved my arm and leg. And the thing was still there. That's when I realized that I wasn't in sleep paralysis.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16r0kf8/i_will_never_be_awake_past_midnight_again/

nosleep

black_moon_phantom

The Story of my 4th Great Grandfather in The American Revolutionary War.

My 4th Great Grandfather served in the American Revolutionary War from 1777 to his discharge in 1778. He was a Militia meaning he has to defend local towns from British forces. Me and My Grandfather were scavenging our stuff that we hadn't use for a while. We went to our ancestor's house in Massachusetts (My 4th Great Grandfather) to drink beer and talk about friends and family. It was a nice house, there was a fireplace and a casement window. ​ After Our Talk, My Grandfather got up and went into a room. Returned with a small book which looked like a diary and I was correct. My Grandfather said with a calm town "You know, Your dad doesn't like to talk about this because he thinks that you will stay up night everyday. If you don't know what's this book then it's your 4th great grandfathers journal during the War. ​ It was 12 AM right now, it scared me a little bit. My Grandfather read the whole entire journal and after that, I have no words we just said "Goodbye" and went to our homes and I couldn't get some sleep after that story my grandfather read. ​ The following is my 4th Great Grandfather Journal, ​ November 13, 1777, I have been enlisted in the Continental Army. I was a youth when I entered into the service of the military. My elder brother hath perished in the Battle of Saratoga. My friend, William, and myself were dispatched to a hamlet in Upper State New York, a community of roughly two hundred souls. ​ November 21, 1777, About the time of Thanksgiving, my comrade William was deployed to spend the holidays with his kin in New York City, while I dutifully stood guard over our town. At the stroke of 1 AM, as I maintained my vigil, musket in hand, patrolling the entire township, I discerned a voice that was unmistakably that of my friend William, exclaiming, 'Hey Arnold, come and behold what I have discovered.' This, however, puzzled me greatly, for William had ventured to New York City with his family. An eerie intuition suggested that something was amiss, as if his voice had been twisted or distorted in some unnatural manner. Summoning my resolve, I called out, 'William, where are you?' Yet, there was no reply. Then, from behind me, a response emerged, and it sent shivers down my spine. 'I am right here,' came the retort, and as I turned to face it, I beheld a grotesque and inhuman figure. Standing at a towering nine feet in height, its emaciated visage appeared as if it had suffered from relentless hunger, and its form lacked the attributes of humanity, including any semblance of genitals. Swiftly, I discharged my musket, aiming squarely at its abdomen, eliciting from it a shrill cry akin to that of a fox. In an astonishing display of speed, it vanished into the night, leaving me confounded and bewildered. I would not encounter it again until the passage of a full month. ​ As I proceeded to a nearby shop in proximity to the creature I had encountered, a scene of dreadful horror unfolded before my very eyes. There lay a deceased man, likely in the latter stages of his fifties, amidst a pool of sanguineous fluid. The sight was indeed a gruesome and ghastly spectacle to behold. Without delay, I swiftly mounted my trusty steed and embarked upon a journey to New York City, with the intent to apprise my friend William of the dire events that had befallen. ​ November 22, 1777, I arrived in New York City and reunited with my friend William. He inquired as to the purpose of my journey alongside him, and I proceeded to recount the entirety of the unsettling events. Following my account, his countenance took on a spectral pallor, and he hastily concluded his repast. Together, we set forth, making our way back to the environs of Upstate New York, with the solemn intent of launching an investigation. November 24, 1777, William and I returned to the small town as the clock struck four in the afternoon. The atmosphere was chill, and a serene calm enveloped the surroundings. I chanced upon a woman and inquired if she had ever laid eyes on a creature of extraordinary stature, one that reached nine feet in height. Her response was in the negative. Thereupon, I recounted the entirety of the unsettling narrative to her, and she found herself overtaken by a sense of dread. She kindly extended an invitation for us to lodge at her dwelling for the night. Later, William and I revisited the shop, where we encountered its proprietor. I queried if he had encountered the enigmatic entity, and to my disquiet, he responded with laughter. My emotions oscillated between agitation and exasperation. Notably, the bloodstains that had once marred the floor were conspicuously absent, as if no vestige of a body had ever occupied that space. In the evening hours, I took up residence in the woman's abode. While William slumbered soundly, I gazed out into the wooded expanse through the windowpane. My ruminations remained captive to the troubling events that had transpired. Sleep eluded me, the incident persistently occupying my thoughts. It was during this nocturnal vigil that I engaged in conversation with the woman, whose countenance possessed a captivating charm, her chestnut tresses framing a visage that bespoke youthfulness in her early twenties. We exchanged introductions, and our affections bloomed. ​ December 20, 1777, William and I journeyed to Valley Forge with the purpose of receiving military instruction under the tutelage of Baron von Steuben, a Prussian military officer of notable repute. Under his guidance, we embarked upon rigorous training regimens encompassing the proper use of the bayonet, the precision of marching in formation, and the swift execution of orders. The toil was relentless, and I found myself beset by fatigue, akin to the weariness that befalls those toiling in the fields, such as slaves laboring under the unrelenting sun, gathering rice or tending to tobacco. To rejuvenate our spirits, we sought repose in distinct quarters, each of us retreating to our respective lodgings. Thereafter, we would reassemble for further sessions of training. ​ December 27, 1777, Sometime around 5 AM, I awoke to the urgent voice of William, summoning me to venture outside, for he professed that my beloved had arrived at Valley Forge. Yielding to his plea, I consented, and as I cautiously unfastened the door, the world outside lay silent, the rest of our comrades in deep slumber. Surveying the surroundings, my gaze fell upon William, who stood alone in the dimness. However, conspicuously absent was my girlfriend, and a disconcerting revelation coursed through me — this was the very creature I had encountered just one month prior. Gripping my bayonet tightly, I inched the door shut, wary of what lurked beyond. A span of ten anxious minutes elapsed, devoid of any sound but for a distorted and unnerving bark. I steadfastly resisted the impulse to reopen the door, all the while gripped by an escalating sense of dread and fear. ​ January 8, 1778, William confided in me about a disquieting incident that occurred during the night, some twelve days hence. As he lay in slumber, the creature materialized outside his window, although on this occasion, it refrained from assuming the guise of a beast. In an attempt to dispel the dread that had settled upon him, William feigned slumber, striving to convince himself that the encounter had been naught but a disturbing dream. The disconcerting nature of the occurrence left both of us in a state of profound trepidation. We find ourselves confronted with a vexing dilemma — should we elevate this matter to the High Command for their counsel and intervention? ​ January 20, 1778, William and I conveyed the disconcerting news to General John, who expressed a commitment to conduct a thorough investigation in the town we had staunchly defended in Upstate New York. Laden with provisions of sustenance and potable water, we made our way to the settlement, only to find it draped in an eerie stillness. As night descended, William, General John, and myself embarked on a collective patrol of the desolate town. We had intended to rendezvous with the store owner, who had previously scorned my account, but he had inexplicably vanished without a trace. Encountering the woman with whom I had shared my time, her visage now etched with deep anxiety, she inquired about my whereabouts during my absence. I apprised her of my sojourn in Valley Forge. She confided that the store owner's inexplicable disappearance had left her with grave reservations, and she harbored doubts as to whether the same malevolent entity that had claimed the life of the elderly man two months prior was responsible. Remarkably, she bore the news of her pregnancy. Recognizing the need to offer solace and security in such uncertain times, I extended an invitation for her to accompany us to Valley Forge, where she might find respite and refuge. Without hesitation, we ushered her to the sanctuary of Valley Forge, a haven where she could seek rest and reassurance. ​ ​ January 23, 1778, Upon our return, the conspicuous absence of General John confounded us; he was nowhere to be discerned. Inquiries amongst the inhabitants yielded a disconcerting account, for they recounted observing him engaged in discourse with an unseen interlocutor amidst the woodlands, his steps leading him deeper into the shrouded forest. We embarked on a steadfast journey through the woodland, our voices raised in a clarion call for General John. Along this course, we happened upon a cave, its interior steeped in inky darkness. Kindling our lanterns, we pierced the gloom with their luminance. There, within the cavern's recesses, a chilling tableau unfurled before our very eyes. Scores of human remains lay strewn about, reduced to naught but skeletal vestiges. Amongst the macabre assemblage, a bloodied handprint, etched with the ominous proclamation, 'Arnold and William are next,' leapt out to assail our senses. A portentous conviction overcame us, and William voiced it with urgency. 'We must evacuate this dread-filled abyss,' he declared. Swiftly mounting our steeds, we departed from the site of the dire discovery, retracing our path until we were safely ensconced within the confines of Valley Forge. ​ January 25, 1778, Upon our return, we conveyed the harrowing chronicle to George Washington, the laughter upon his countenance serving as an unwelcome reception. He chided us, deeming our belief in the realm of the supernatural or apparitions to be a folly of the highest order. A wave of indignation surged within us, for our assertion rang true, yet his credulity was beyond our grasp. It was then that we learned of his intent to enact our discharge, the designated date set for March 15, 1778. As the sands of time dwindled within the hourglass of our service, we found ourselves endowed with an abundance of leisure. ​ 2 AM January 26, 1778, We chanced upon an entity that bore the semblance of a deer, yet as its gaze fell upon us, the creature affixed its eyes upon ours, an unsettling communion that endured for an indeterminate span. In an abrupt and astonishing metamorphosis, the creature swelled in stature, launching an onslaught upon our steeds. By some providential grace, our horses withstood the assault, emerging from the fray with their lives and limbs intact. Yet, the enigmatic entity persevered, doggedly tailing our every step. We find ourselves in close proximity to the border of New York, to say the least. ​ January 29, 1778, We tarried in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, seeking reprieve for a solitary night's rest. To the townsfolk, we divulged the fullness of our tale. Amongst them, a man by the name of Joseph, seasoned by service in the French and Indian War, emerged as a source of wisdom on matters of lore and legend. Joseph beckoned me into his cabin, nestled amidst the sylvan outskirts of Williamsport. Here, in the quietude of his abode, he arranged a parley betwixt myself and the Native Americans, whom he identified as Ojibwe Indians. Remarkably, Joseph possessed the gift of translating my words into their tongue, and their responses into English. It was amid these exchanges that they imparted to me the name of the malevolent entity we had encountered - a Wendigo, by their reckoning. The Indians conveyed that the slaying of a Wendigo availed two methods: a well-aimed shot to the heart, or the infliction of death through fire. William and I, burdened by the capriciousness of our marksmanship, elected the latter course of action, consigning the creature to the cleansing embrace of flames. ​ February 15, 1778 - February 16, 1778, I returned to Valley Forge and imparted to my beloved the course of action I had charted. Her countenance radiated with enthusiasm, bidding me farewell with a heartfelt 'Good luck.' On the ensuing day, William and I labored to fashion torches, a strategy to confront the elusive entity should we encounter it anew. As fate would have it, our paths once more converged with Joseph. He pledged to dispatch a cadre of Native Americans to accompany our mission, their purpose to aid in the relentless pursuit of the Wendigos. And this, dear friend, brings me to the most cherished segment of our narrative. ​ March 1, 1778 Sometime around the seventh hour of morn, I was stirred from slumber by a familiar symphony of barks, harkening back to those eerie echoes of four months prior. With stealthy resolve, I roused the Native Americans, Joseph, and William from their repose. Swiftly, we readied ourselves, seizing hold of our trusty torches, resolute in our intent. In relentless pursuit, we embarked upon the chase, hot on the trail of the elusive Wendigo. As the creature materialized before our eyes, we hurled our flaming implements in unison, igniting a chorus of anguished cries that reverberated through the air, threatening to rupture the very confines of my eardrums. Then, in a surreal tableau, I bore witness to the gradual dissolution of the Wendigo's corporeal form, vanquished by the searing blaze. Profound gratitude welled within me, a sentiment I readily extended to Joseph and the Native Americans for their invaluable tutelage in the art of the Wendigo's demise. ​ March 10, 1778 Subsequent to the departure of the Native Americans, accompanied by Joseph, William and I made our way to the township in Upstate New York. Venturing into the wooded expanse, the very locale where General John's presence had last been witnessed, I espied a recently excavated depression in the earth. Drawing nearer, our grim discovery unveiled itself – the lifeless form of General John lay supine within the pit. The spectacle that met our gaze was one of unimaginable horror, a testament to the inhuman brutality inflicted upon him by the Wendigo prior to our triumph over the loathsome creature. ​ March 15, 1778 We received our honorable discharges and were dispatched to our respective homes. I journeyed back to the heart of Massachusetts, where I sought to unburden my soul by recounting the harrowing chronicles of my service to my family. \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ​ Meanwhile, it grieves me to relate that William's sojourn in the urban labyrinth of New York City had taken a grievous toll upon his sanity. He was committed to a wretched institution for the infirm of mind, a place where tales of mistreatment at the hands of the attending physicians weighed heavily upon my conscience. The plight of my dear friend weighed heavily upon my heart, and I harbored a profound sense of sorrow on his behalf. In the year 1786, I undertook a poignant visitation, an opportunity to commune with William for the final occasion. It was a melancholic farewell, for in the year 1788, he departed this realm, his tormented spirit released from the bonds of earthly suffering. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ For those who may peruse these words, I commit them to paper on this day, the 4th of October, in the year 1822. A span of 44 years has elapsed since the nightmarish ordeal befell me. The specter of those dire events still haunts my thoughts, a disquieting presence that time has failed to diminish. I must extend my profound gratitude to Joseph and the Native Americans whose valor led to the demise of the creature. Yet, even as I draw solace from their triumph, I cannot fully quell the apprehension that one day, the malevolent entity may rise once more from the abyss. Alas, I am compelled to acknowledge that my days are numbered, for infirmity has taken hold, and my journey upon this mortal coil nears its conclusion. The prospect of bearing witness to any potential resurrection of the fiend is beyond my grasp, as I stand on the precipice of my own impending demise. Furthermore, in August of the year 1778, my son entered this world, a joyous arrival that transpired shortly after the calamitous incident we had weathered. Regrettably, the fates conspired to keep us apart for countless decades, a prolonged separation that weighed heavily upon my heart. As time unfurled its tapestry, I received tidings that my son had embarked upon his own journey, entering into the sacred bonds of matrimony and siring offspring. His valor was tested in the crucible of the War of 1812, a conflict that further etched the indelible mark of service upon our family legacy. Yet, in the year 1814, the specter of sorrow descended upon me once more, as my cherished wife departed this earthly realm. Her absence leaves an irreplaceable void, and in the present moment, as I inscribe these lines, my eyes are awash with tears, for the ache of her absence lingers evermore. ​ \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ad there you go, this has been in my memory for 30 years. My grandfather is at the ripe old age of 102. I still think about how brave my 4th Great Grandfather and his comrade killing the wendigo.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16r645a/the_story_of_my_4th_great_grandfather_in_the/

nosleep

TransportationSad104

It's been years since I killed my daughter. Here's a long overdue conversation with my ex-wife.

Rain pattered on the sidewalk, giving out that soothing earthy smell. Across the empty road, there was a diner with a blue neon sign. Tom’s Diner, it read, the letter M flickering. Through the fogged up glass, I saw the silhouette of a woman sitting with her fingers fidgeting. She was waiting for me, but I couldn’t bring myself to go—Not yet, at least. ​ ​ I looked away from the trance she had me in, pulling out another cigarette from my pocket. I must’ve smoked four of them in the short while I was sitting on that cold metal bench—five of them now. The smoke mixed with the cold air in my lungs. I let out a shuddering sigh and faced the lonely moon. ​ ​ *Well*, I thought, *I can’t keep her waiting all night.* I fixed up my curly hair one last time. I also made sure my leather jacket didn’t have a wrinkle nor a speck of dust. ​ ​ With a countdown from five in my head, I lunged up and speed-walked to the door before my mind changed or came up with another excuse. ​ ​ I clasped my hand over the door, the green entrance light casting a glow on my face. After taking in a deep breath, I pulled it open. ​ ​ The air of freshly baked bread mixed with coffee smacked me across the face. A hologram behind the counter stood there wavering and crackling as the outside air seeped in. “Welcome to Tom’s Diner. Please close the door behind you,” it said in a robotic tone. I turned around and shut it. “Have a seat, we’ll be with you shortly.” ​ ​ “Thanks,” I replied. ​ ​ I purposely acted like I hadn’t noticed the woman staring at me from my peripheral vision. I scanned the empty diner, every unoccupied seat and table, before laying my eyes on her... Mia. ​ ​ Mia gave me a sweet, undeserved smile. Her gray eyes twinkled with the hanging chandelier above her table. Caramel-colored hair cascaded down to her shoulder. I stood there paralyzed, going over all of the memories I cherished with her. ​ ​ I saw her and I running barefoot across the Mexican beaches. After a long night of drinking, I carried her up to our hotel, hotel number 505, I saw it so clearly in my head. We stayed up all night ordering food from the hotel menu and watching Netflix. We would always watch movies at home, but it was different that time because there was nothing to worry about. And nothing to do but enjoy our honeymoon. ​ ​ When her thin eyebrows shot up in confusion, I snapped out of it, rubbing my eyes as if I had woken up from a nap. Even after doing that, she looked surreal. I walked over to her table and sat awkwardly. ​ “You look like you’re holding up well,” I stuttered. ​ ​ “Hello yourself,” she said in a sarcastic tone. “It took a while, but yes.” ​ ​ “I’m sorry, Hello.” ​ ​ “Hi.” ​ ​ My eyes darted back and forth, looking everywhere but at the eyes in front of me. ​ ​ “Uhh… They serve great coffee here, huh?” I said. ​ ​ “Not bad. Just a little too strong for my liking. Nothing a little creamer can’t fix.” ​ ​ I leaned towards the edge of the table and called out, “Hey waiter! Can you bring me a black coffee please!” I cleared my throat and sat up straight. ​ ​ “You look tired,” she said. ​ ​ “Oh, yeah, no, I just got out of a uh… an afternoon shift.” ​ ​ “Where at?” ​ ​ “Downtown at the little tech warehouse. The pay isn’t bad, but it isn’t good. It’s in the middle, you know?” ​ ​ “I know,” she said, taking a sip from her creamer-filled coffee. ​ ​ “How about you? What do you do now?” ​ ​ “Same thing.” ​ ​ “Oh wow, still? After what? Four years?” I knew the exact amount of years. ​ ​ “Three years, and yes. That college degree can’t go to waste.” ​ ​ “Yeah, true, but I thought you might have moved by now.” ​ ​ “Out of that… that apartment, yes. Out of town, no.” ​ ​ “How did you—” ​ ​ Soft, squelching footsteps made me lose my train of thought. I turned left. The waitress wore blocky rain-boots and apologized for the noise. She walked towards our table, cradling a tray full of coffee. She extended it out, I grabbed a cup of coffee and thanked her. With a smile, she walked away, boots squelching on the tile floor. ​ ​ \`I took a sip of the coffee and my face scrunched up. ​ ​ “I told you,” she giggled. “It's strong.” ​ ​ I coughed into my elbow and laughed with her. ​ ​ “So,” she said, “have you been seeing anyone?” ​ ​ The question caught me off guard. My face must’ve shown that. “Of course not.” ​ ​ “Oh,” she said, averting eye contact. ​ ​ I looked down at her soft hands. There was a glimmering ring on her finger. She quickly tried covering it up. My heart shattered in a million little pieces as I realized. But in my mind, I was happy for her. ​ ​ “You don’t have to do that,” I smiled awkwardly. “I’m glad you moved on.” ​ ​ “I still think of her every—” ​ ​ “Stop,” I murmured, shutting my eyes. I saw her so vividly, my daughter, our sweet innocent daughter. ​ ​ “Do you…” I opened my eyes, feeling tears trickling down my cheek. She tilted her head at me and continued, “Do you still…” ​ ​ “Stop. I-I can’t, please.” ​ ​ “But it wasn’t your—” ​ ​ “It was,” I cut her off. “It was.” ​ ​ My mind tormented me with our daughter's little giggle. She had my facial features. Every mirror of my apartment was shattered or thrown away. I couldn’t look at myself. I couldn’t look at my daughter. ​ ​ “Alex,” she said, “you have to stop blaming yourself. I… I forgive you. I have for a while now.” ​ ​ “You can’t.” I clawed at my eyes, wiping the tears out with angry strokes. ​ ​ “How could you have known?” She said with a crackly voice. ​ ​ I looked up and into her eyes—my daughter's eyes. I shot my hands up to my head and yanked on my hair as if I could pull out the haunting memories. The memories of seeing her lifeless body in the coroner’s office and how soulless her eyes looked. They resembled those doll eyes that gave the illusion of tracking you. It was as if her glare was reminding me how I failed. ​ ​ My wife gave me the cold shoulder, blaming me for her death. She had every right to. It was my fault. I let her out of my sight. I let her get hit by that bus. ​ ​ I looked away from Mia. “I… I can’t do this. I'm sorry. I can’t.” ​ ​ As I was scooting to the edge of the seat, she placed her warm palm on my cold hand. “Alex, do it for me.” She had tears streaming down her cheek. “Do it for me. I can’t stop thinking of you and how you're holding up. Will you try something stupid? Will you finally move on? Let me give you closure—give us both closure.” ​ ​ I hung my head down, letting out ugly cries. ​ ​ “I forgive you, Alex. Our Luna forgives you.” ​ ​ I looked at her with my eyebrows furrowed. “How can she forgive me? And… How can you know?” ​ ​ “She was not the type to hold grudges, you know that.” ​ ​ I thought back to all the times she would look at me from the shadowed corners of my apartment. I felt her angry presence. I felt the grudge she held against me. She would whisper in my ears at night. Asking me why I failed her. I was supposed to be her hero. I was supposed to push her out of the way and save her. Or throw myself in front of the bus for her, taking her place. ​ ​ Looking at Mia through my watery tear-filled vision, she looked just like Luna. ​ ​ “I’m sorry,” I said under my breath. “I have to go.” ​ ​ I stood and walked towards the exit. ​ ​ “Alex, please,” Mia cried out from behind. ​ ​ I paused by the door, the red exit sign casting a sizzling glow on my face. I saw her through my peripheral vision, mind racing with millions of things I wanted to say. This was better for both of us—no, better for me. ​ ​ I opened the door, the cold air rushing to get inside. The way the cold slashed at my face with a whistling sound felt deserved. I shut the door behind me, letting the gloomy night consume me. ​ ​ The wind carried echoes of child-like giggles. I nearly fainted. My heart sunk to my toes. Those were Luna's giggles. *What was she doing outside?* I thought, *She never leaves home.* ​ ​ As I scanned the empty streets for the source of the sound, movement from across the street caught my eye. Sitting on the metal bench, Luna glared at me. Her legs dangled, swinging impatiently. She was waiting for me. ​ ​ Her doll-like eyes glanced at the fogged up window. I followed her gaze. Mia’s silhouette was sitting with her head hung and body shuddering. Silhouetted tears trickled down onto the table. It was as if Luna was saying: “It’s me or her.” ​ ​ The daughter I yearned for or the woman who I once loved, it was an easy choice at the time. I crossed the street and pulled out another cigarette to suppress my logical thoughts. Luna giggled and hopped off the bench. She skipped away from me, but I knew where she was heading—to hide in the shadows of my apartment. ​

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qnzi1/its_been_years_since_i_killed_my_daughter_heres_a/

nosleep

[deleted]

Dogs That Weren't Dogs

After dark, I'd hear them. Not quite every night, at first, but most nights. My mother told me they were just wild dogs hunting in the woods on the border of our property; that there was nothing to worry about. Not while I was safe in bed, anyway. But something about their nocturnal prowlings never failed to inspire a vague dread deep in the pit of my gut, one I couldn't ever fully ignore as I sought sleep. Then, one night, it wasn't just the distant howls and grunts or the faint scattering of crunched leaves underfoot anymore. They would scratch at my window with long, yellowing claws - my window on the second floor of our old farmhouse, to which there was no earthly access from the outside. The whispers followed shortly after, seeping through the windowpane, corrupting my dreams and rendering any semblance of undisturbed rest utterly impossible. What they spoke of was a mystery to me, incoherent as it all was, and while I should have been frightened by the hoarse, inexplicable mutterings, I found myself strangely intrigued instead; a sense of curiosity which spurred me out into the darkness to investigate. The moon hung bright and full, almost blinding in its shimmering glow, as I stepped out onto the front porch. The screen door closed behind me with a smack, a disturbance which I was sure might have woken my parents, however the wind's intermittent howling surely muted it, at least somewhat. I remember the chill, immediate and brutal, and I began to lose my nerve. That's when I saw it, poking through a bush in the treeline. It looked just like a man’s face, however not quite right; as if the jaw was somehow uncannily elongated, accompanying a wide grin bearing a mouth full of sharp canine teeth. For the first time, I understood it when it spoke. Only it didn’t use words in the way in which I was used to hearing them. The words came from inside my own head. It simply stated, calmly and in a soft soothing voice, that I shouldn't be afraid; and I wasn’t, and it knew as I did. Just like that, I began to follow it as it vanished out of sight, deeper into the forest. It wasn’t long until I could no longer see the soft illumination from the lamp left on in the safety of my bedroom over my shoulder anymore. Now that the twinkling light was gone, I began to notice just how dark it truly was, and I started to realize how much I had forgotten myself in that powerful sense of intrigue which had moved me to such a foolish outing in the first place. I began to feel exposed; totally surrounded, and despite the consistent, whispered reassurances of my mysterious guide, I couldn’t quite escape the urge to run back the way I’d come. Still, I continued onwards through the trees, until most anything resembling light had been extinguished by the thickening branches overhead. The forest's blackness was as opaque as the night sky itself, miasmic almost in the air, and it stayed that way for quite a while. Until, finally, a faint flickering shone wanly in the distance. The mouth of the small cave seemed almost to speak too, warping around the dim light of the campfire within. A collective of voices called out in a twisted unison, each with the same whispering cadence as the one who had brought me there, yet clearly individual. I no longer felt afraid. Inside, a number of hooded figures sat crouched on their haunches, presumably warming themselves by the fire. However it quickly became apparent that wasn't what they were doing at all as the sickening-sweet odor of seared flesh filled the small chamber. They were each burning the palms of their hands over the flames until they were charred and almost cooked. Slowly and in single file, they proceeded to stand and make their way to me as I stood fixed in place by the opening, stunned in a dazed astonishment. Each creature pressed their blistering, blackened hand over my face as I breathed into them, inhaling their surprisingly pleasant choking aroma. I began to feel increasingly invigorated as a result, as though through their collective sacrifice I myself was becoming stronger somehow. Fed. When the last approached me, my eyes met its, and suddenly, in a single instant, I was entirely within their thrall. Its hard, beady eyes penetrated my soul and its leathery gray skin rippled as it pressed a dark, bloody palm over my face. From within me radiated a single word. Home. And I knew that was where I was.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qv4ek/dogs_that_werent_dogs/

nosleep

Verrgasm

Lacking Senses

Our footsteps tapped down the corridor with echoes. The silence was becoming unbearable, and all we could do was anxiously wait for the next attack. I looked over to my right and saw Alex shaking as he gripped his rifle. He had only started relatively recently and had been showing me photos of his family before this. The guy that died earlier had been Spencer and while he had one of the biggest egos I’ve ever seen, he still didn’t deserve what happened to him. None of us should have been in this place, but we were the ones stupid enough to take this mission. It was no longer a 3 man job but a suicide mission. I signaled a hand to halt and Alex stopped dead in his tracks. We both looked at each other and held our breaths as we looked into the dark examination room. My heart skipped a beat every time I turned on my flashlight for fear of seeing one of those things again. I swung the light from left to right and didn’t hear a sound. I motioned for Alex to keep following. “You sure you didn’t see any of those things?” asked Alex. “Keep your finger on the trigger just in case,” I replied. We stepped in and slowly made our way around examining the bodies of the dead scientists. All of them had nasty slash marks that cut deep into the flesh or had entire parts of limbs missing with shattered bone sticking out. We never saw what happened to Spencer, but deep down we knew it was probably this. “Ok, room is secured. Just grab whatever files are here and let’s get the hell out. I’m tired of sitting around like a rat in a cage here,” said Alex. I looked around for any sort of documents or leads while Alex shone his light on the entryway but found nothing like all the other rooms. I looked back over at Alex, but he wasn’t looking at me. I realized what he was staring at and whipped my rifle around and laid as many shots as I could into the flesh creature behind me. The being almost looked human but it was lacking any facial features and its head was a misshapen spear. I fired just enough shots to stun it and keep its clawed hands away from me. “Go!” I shouted. Alex didn’t need to think twice about that and sprinted past me as we ran down the hall as we occasionally turned around and fired. We sprayed our shots down the hallway but were only able to take down maybe one or two with each clip. There was an entire hoard of them, and we could only fend off against 1 or 2 at a time before they almost grabbed us. Pure terror seized me as I watched Alex’s body suddenly fly into the air. He screamed as one of the creatures had pulled him into an overhead vent. “Help me it’s got a hold of me!” screamed Alex. I aimed my rifle up at the vent, but by the time I did I saw Alex’s feet slide in. I cursed to myself and unloaded another clip into one of the creatures two feet away from me before taking off into a sprint. I felt every ragged breath as I sprinted but felt almost weightless even with the equipment on me due to the adrenaline. I rounded a corner and kicked one of the creatures that popped out of a side vent. I saw a large open door and squeezed in as the horde rose behind me. I just managed to close the door as a claw scratched against my cheek and drew blood. I winced from the sting and took a deep breath in my moment of rest. I saw a person rise from a desk and pointed my gun at them. I saw that it was one of the scientists and that he was alive. “Put your hands in the air and don’t move!” I shouted. The man obeyed and put his hands above his head. “Care to tell me what you guys were doing here?” I asked. “They’re beautiful…” the man said. “What, the monsters out there?” I asked. “I truly envy them. They feel none of the five senses. They never have to feel pain. They just are,” he said. “How do they get around then? If they can’t feel anything?” I asked. The man just broke into a long and hard laugh as he gripped his hair and stared at the ground. I tried to drag him out of there but he refused to move so I left him. I found an emergency exit on the second level of the room and sprinted through corridor after corridor until I found a ladder that led to an exit. I could hear footsteps tailing behind me as I scrambled up the rungs. As I stared at the empty desert before me I felt no sense of happiness or accomplishment. It was only a matter of time before these things escaped the facility and made it to civilization. By the time everyone realizes it will be too late. Even though they can’t feel anything they have some way of finding you.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16r0yni/lacking_senses/

nosleep

jbbaxter1

The Afterlife Muse

The painting had been put up for auction at a local event raising money for charity. It was an original, according to the auctioneer, by an obscure but talented artist from the early 1900s. It was almost the end of the day and I had yet to see anything that caught my fancy, but the moment the painting was unveiled, I felt something stir in my chest, and I knew I had to have it. Nobody else seemed quite as enthused as me about the portrait, and winning it had been a relatively simple affair. After countering a few other vaguely-interested buyers, I managed to secure it for myself. I had it wrapped up in a piece of old, moth-eaten cloth that was found in the auction warehouse, and stowed it in the back of my car, excited to find a place for it in my home. I was a collector of sorts, mostly of antiques and other knickknacks, so it would fit right in with the assortment of old ceramic pots and tarnished clocks and statues that I had sitting in my display cabinet.  On the way home from the auction, I started to feel restless. I wasn't sure if it was because the auction had lasted longer than I expected, or because I was tired, or something else, but I struggled to focus on driving and almost pulled out right in front of another car as I turned at the junction leading left towards my house.  When I finally pulled into the driveway of my semi-detached, I cut the engine and sat for a moment behind the wheel, taking a couple of deep breaths to clear my mind.  When I flicked a glance up, towards the rearview, I thought—for just a moment— that I had glimpsed a shadow, pressed against the backseat of the car. Between one blink and the next, however, the shadow had disappeared, and I rubbed my eyes, realizing I must have been more tired than I thought. I twisted around to double-check the backseat, just in case, but there really was nothing there. Stepping out of the car, I headed round to the trunk of the car and popped it open. The painting was where I had left it, nestled safely in its bandage of thick yellow cloth. Gripping the edges of the frame, I hoisted it out of the car, careful not to knock the corners against the trunk. Balancing it on one knee, I used my free hand to slam the trunk closed and locked the car behind me, heading up the drive towards the front door. Somewhere behind me, I felt the strange sensation of being watched. Assuming it was one of my neighbours, I turned round to wave, but there was nobody there. The street was empty. Deserted. I was the only one out here.  Shrugging it off, I headed inside.  Laying the covered painting down on the mahogany dining table, I carefully stripped the cloth away to unearth the portrait. It was even more beautiful seeing it up close, instead of across the auction hall. I wasn't a painting connoisseur by any means, but even I could appreciate the balance of colours and the masterful brushstrokes used to create the dichotomy between the subject's face and the backdrop.  The signature in the corner, scrawled in black ink, read Thomas Mallory. That was the name of the painter. I had never heard of him before the auction, but the painting itself was a masterful piece of portraiture that held up against even more well-known names. I wasn't entirely sure who the depicted subject was, but judging by the brush and palette he was holding, and the easel in front of him, the subject must have been a painter too. Perhaps it was even a self-portrait of Thomas Mallory himself. The frame was a deep brass with golden highlights, but there was a faint layer of dust and grime on the edges of the frame, suggesting it had been stored somewhere damp prior to the auction, so I got some low-chemical cleaning supplies and tried my best to clean it up. By the time I was done, the frame was glistening in the swathes of the fading sun pouring in through the window. It wouldn't be long until dusk fell. I must have been sitting here for hours polishing the frame, and my wrist had grown sore. Satisfied with my work, I took the painting over to the display cabinet in my sitting room. Despite the wide array of antiques, I did dust regularly, and the air was tinged with the scent of lemon and rose disinfectant. I hadn't quite decided where I would hang the painting yet, so instead I propped it up on the mantlepiece beside the cabinet, above the bricked-up fire that hadn't been used in years. Sometimes, when I hadn't dusted in a while, I could still smell the tinge of ash and smoke embedded within the bricks.  Making sure the painting was secure between the wall and the mantel shelf, I stepped back and admired the portrait in the light of the fading sun. There was something almost melancholy about the painter's face. Those eyes, that sparkled with an unusual, almost corporeal lustre, seemed to be filled with a longing of sorts. A yearning for something that was just out of reach. But maybe I was just seeing things that weren’t really there. Like the shadow in the car. The light outside was fading rapidly, but part of me couldn't draw my eyes away from the painting, or the man's woeful expression. Why had the painter portrayed him this way? What was the story behind each stroke of the brush? I don't think I—or anyone—would ever truly understand what was going through the painter's mind as he created this piece of art. That, after all, was the beauty—and pain—of subjectivity. Of art. Of interpretation. Nobody shared the same idea of inference and understanding, especially when it came to something like this. But perhaps I was overthinking it. I shook myself out of my daze, realizing that the sun had already set, dusk painting the edges of the sky in shades of dark purple. I should get something to eat before I go to bed, I thought vaguely as I left the room, closing the door behind me. That night, I awoke to darkness, and the feeling that I wasn't alone. I lived on my own, as I had done since separating from my partner a few years ago, and didn't have any pets. There was no probable reason why I would feel like there was someone else here with me, but it was something I felt with a strange sort of certainty, that there was someone here in the dark, lurking just out of sight. My heart began to flutter in my chest, panic rising up through my stomach, but I swallowed it down. I was being silly. Of course there was nobody else here. I had locked all the doors and windows before I went to bed, I was sure of it. But I still couldn't quite shake that feeling of unease that tiptoed along the back of my neck, making sweat bead along my skin. Breathing softly through my nose, I fumbled through the dark until my fingers closed around the light switch, clicking it on. Bright yellow light flooded the room, and I threw up a hand to shield my eyes from the glare. Squinting between my fingers, I looked around the room. Empty, as I expected. There really was nobody here. But then I noticed something that made my throat clench up once more. The bedroom door was open.  I always slept with it closed, the way I had done since I was a child. I very rarely went to bed with it open, even by accident.  Had someone really been in my room? Or was this one of those very rare occurrences where I had forgotten to close it? No, I was certain I had shut it. I remembered the creak and the click of the old door against the frame. It had become an almost bedtime ritual, and I would have felt something was off earlier in the night if I had left it open. I gazed at the crack in the doorframe, shadows pooling around the edges, fear tightening my chest. Was there someone in the house? Should I call the police? No, not without investigating first. I didn't want to waste their time if it really was just my imagination, conjuring threats from nothing. Slipping out of bed, I tiptoed over to the open door, my fingers trembling as they gripped the handle, pulling it open wider. Light from the bedroom spilt out onto the landing, illuminating the rest of the corridor. I couldn't see anything immediately out of place.  I held my breath for a few seconds and listened. Above the pounding of my own heart, I could hear nothing. Just the faint moan of the wind and the rustle of the leaves. The house was deathly silent. Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I stepped out of my room and tiptoed down the stairs. I wanted to make sure there really was nobody else in the house before I went back to bed. Downstairs was silent too, except for the faint, intermittent drip of the kitchen tap. I had gotten a glass of water before bed, so perhaps I hadn't twisted the faucet all the way. I padded into the kitchen, switching on the lights as I went, and tightened the leaky tap until it stopped dripping.  Feeling somewhat less terrified, I went through each room, checking behind doorways and in closets to make sure nobody was hiding. Every room proved empty. The last place to check was the living room, where the painting was. In a brief lapse of judgment, I considered the possibility that a thief had broken into the house to steal the painting. But who would steal a painting by a less-known artist, after I'd only owned it for a day? Shaking away the thought, I approached the living room door and froze. It was one of those old-fashioned doors with a frosted glass window. On the other side of the window stood a shadow. A shadow that wasn't supposed to be there.  Fear stabbed my chest, my heart racing. Was there someone on the other side? The shadow wasn't moving. Maybe it was nothing after all. But I had never noticed it before, and I was sure there was nothing on the other side of the door that could be casting it. Heart thundering in my chest, I went back to the kitchen to grab a knife from the drawer, and hurried back. The shadow was still there. With a short, sharp breath, I shoved the door open and swung the knife around the edge of the door. Nothing. There was nothing there.  A bead of sweat cooled on my brow. All that panic for nothing. Maybe I really was just overthinking it all. I checked the painting just to be sure, but it hadn't moved an inch. In the dark, the eyes seemed to glisten like obsidian. Eerily realistic. I took a moment to calm my racing heart and rationalise the situation, then left the room, closing the door behind me. This time, when I glanced back, the shadow was gone. The next morning, I decided to do some research and see what I could dig up about Thomas Mallory and his work. I thought it odd that last night's experience had come right after bringing the painting into my home. Perhaps I was being paranoid and making connections where there weren't any, but I was still curious to see what I could find out. Surely someone, somewhere, must know something about him, even if he was a more obscure name in the art world.  I searched for the name on the internet, but all I could immediately find were articles about Thomas Malory, the writer. Not the painter of the portrait sitting in my living room. After scrolling through countless websites and forums, I finally managed to find a page dedicated to the right Mallory. There was an old black-and-white depiction of him, and I recognised him immediately as the same figure in the painting. It was a self-portrait after all. I was sitting with my laptop on the couch in the living room, and my gaze lifted to the painting. Mallory gazed sombrely down at me, making my chest pinch. Returning my attention to the webpage, I read through a brief history of his life. According to the text, Thomas Mallory had never managed to succeed as a painter during life, and had died in poverty, without selling more than one or two of his works. Towards the end of his life, Mallory had begun to rant about how he had been unable to find his muse, and that he would keep searching for her, even after death. He blamed the muses forsaking him as the reason he had been so unsuccessful, and had apparently passed away in a state of bitter despair. When I scrolled down to the bottom, I soft gasp parted my lips. There was a section titled ‘Mallory’s Last Work’, and the picture attached was the very same one that now sat on my mantel. Mallory’s self-portrait. The last ever painting he created, before his death. Was that the reason for his despondent look? Had he been unhappy with his career, at a loss, abandoned by the muses? Was that the message the portrait portrayed? I studied it from across the room, raking my eyes over the paintbrush poised against the painted canvas, the palette of muted colours almost drooping in his hand. Was this when he was on the verge of abandoning his passion altogether? Or was that searching, longing look in his eye a plea to the muses, to hear his desperate call? I shook my head, closing my laptop with a sigh. Thomas Mallory, despite being a wonderful artist, had suffered the same fate as so many artists had. Unappreciated, unrewarded, dying nameless and poor. It was only after death that they truly found fame. The following night, I woke up once more to the feeling that I was being watched from the dark. The room was pitch-dark. Through the netted curtains, there was not even a glimpse of the moon. Only the dark, starless sky, like the open maw of a beast. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. It was just after three o’clock in the morning, according to my watch. Using one hand to switch on the lamp, I squeezed my eyes closed against the light, waiting a few seconds for my eyes to stop watering and finally adjust. The air in the room was still. Undisturbed. The door was closed. Nothing felt out of place, except for the strange prickle of unease tiptoeing down my spine. I gazed around the room for a few minutes, waiting in silence for something to happen, but nothing did. Once again, it was all in my head. I reached for the lamp again, my fingers brushing the switch. The moment the room plunged into darkness was the moment I heard it. Footsteps. Soft, muted footsteps coming from somewhere deeper in the house. I held my breath, my pulse racing beneath my ribcage. Was I hearing things? There, against the quiet of the night, was the sound of retreating footfalls. Someone was inside the house. This time, there was no mistake. Fighting the rising panic in my chest, I fumbled to switch on the light and slipped out of bed. The air was cold against my legs, and I shivered, tiptoeing towards the door. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and tugged it open, as quietly as I could. I peered out. Nothing. The footsteps grew fainter, moving further away, until eventually I could hear them no more. Had they already left? I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Keeping close to the wall, I padded down the hallway and stood at the foot of the stairs, peering down. I couldn’t see anything. Nothing stirred amongst the shadows. Silence pressed against me like something tangible, broken only by my short, panicked pants. Taking the stairs slowly, I reached the bottom and peered around the edge of the bannister. My vision swam in the darkness, and I tried to ignore the feeling that there was something crouched in the shadows, waiting to catch me off guard. It’s all in your head. This time, I passed by the kitchen and dining room and went straight to the living room. Straight to the painting. The door was open. Inside, the darkness felt thick, suffocating. I reached blindly through the dark until I found the light switch, flipping it on. The room felt warmer than the rest of the house. The air felt disturbed. Like someone had been here recently. There was nobody hiding behind the doorway. Nobody crouched behind the sofa. Everything was in its place. Closing the door behind me, I walked up to the painting, and gasped. My legs wobbled, feeling like they were about to give way. My head began to spin, not quite willing to believe what I was seeing. The painting had changed. The painter—Thomas Mallory—had disappeared, leaving an empty space, a dark, mottled void where he once stood. The paintbrush and palette had been discarded, and the canvas—that had before been turned the other way—was now facing me, containing a new painting. A new portrait. A portrait that looked exactly like me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qwllg/the_afterlife_muse/

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