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Fucking kids, am I right?

Having a baby is terrifying enough without your next-door neighbor’s brutal murder. They could at least have put everything in one body bag. The rumor is that they didn’t find the top half of him until the bottom half was already zipped up. So the crowd that had converged next door got to watch two separate gurneys roll Fred into an ambulance. The most horrifying part was seeing the paramedic vomit. They see the worst of the worst, so I can’t even begin to imagine what actually happened to Fred. That was enough for me. My wife was home with Oliver, who was scheduled to wake up from his nap and make green shit while I was changing him in about fifteen minutes. So I turned around to leave the looky-loos and police to their speculation. That’s when I saw the scratches in the ground. They were deep and long, like someone had taken a scythe to Fred's yard. Periodic slashes almost looked like footsteps as they led to his fence. The same fence that separated his yard from mine. Nauseating fear crept through my chest and froze my diaphragm as I realized that the claw marks had sliced their way up to the top of the fence. Just like something had walked up it. I sprinted to my front door, terrified that I wasn’t moving fast enough while simultaneously not wanting to see what I might find inside. “What’s wrong?” my wife asked as I burst through the door. I didn’t slow down as I took the steps two at a time to the second floor. As I wheeled around the landing, bones of the 110-year-old house creaking, I could see through the window where the claw marks had torn through my back lawn. They disappeared from my angle of view directly below Oliver's room. I sprinted down the hall, skidding to a halt just in front of his doorway. For half a second, I balked: If something terrible was on the other side of this door, I was in the final good moment of my life. I held my breath and opened it. Oliver was sound asleep in his crib, completely whole. I belted a cry of relief and sank to the floor, trying to start my lungs again. I was so relieved that I didn’t notice it at first. I opened my eyes. I stood up. His window was open. The claw marks traced down the wall, across the floor, and made a beeline directly to his crib. That’s where they stopped. Gag reflex and bladder ready to fire, I walked over to my sleeping son, hands shaking uncontrollably. I stopped right next to him, looking down, not wanting to believe what I was seeing. *How?* His tiny, razor-sharp fingernails were coated in crimson that dripped along his open palms, staining his fingers red. I wanted to tell myself that it was red paint. It wasn’t red paint. An oppressive copper smell swirled my thoughts as I stared at his slightly open, toothless mouth, covered in red from his eyes to his neck. A bloody snot bubble frothed from his nose, expanding and contracting with each breath. That wasn’t the worst part, though. No, the worst part was that between his fingers, dangling from an severed optic nerve, was Fred’s [eyeball](https://www.facebook.com/P-F-McGrail-181784199029462/). [BD](https://www.reddit.com/r/ByfelsDisciple/) [W](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCcn_pa1QfNMRzbTuJqXSoRQ) [E](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCrypticCompendium/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16q3hrv/fucking_kids_am_i_right/

nosleep

ByfelsDisciple

Something disturbing is happening in my family tree.

Growing up there were points where it was hard to hear, or my hearing would be lost In both ears. What made the condition so frustrating was the fact that doctors were unable to diagnose it. By eleven it was frequent enough to be a problem, but it never occurred while visiting a doctor. Dangers posed by the hearing loss mounted as the years passed. While my parents sought more autonomy for me, they also realized the difficulties of my condition. This is how Ms. Marsel came into my life . She was a professional who worked with people who are hearing impaired. While teaching me strategies to overcome the challenges faced in my life she showed me nothing but compassion and kindness. Not only did she help overcome my struggles, but she had a profound impact on my views and perspective. Every other Saturday my parents would take me to Ms. Marsel’s. We both lived in Mineral Hills, a town outside of Northampton, Massachusetts. Best characterized by claustrophobic roads that weaved in between conservation areas, it was the kind of place that one could get lost in if they weren’t careful. I was fourteen while learning sign language. Nothing about my condition changed, but the belief was that my hearing could be lost and never come back. About forty minutes into our session we took a break. Tobey and Mathew (Ms. Marsel’s two other students) sat eating their sandwiches. They were both younger, but their conditions were more advanced than mine. My parents got me food beforehand, so Ms. Marsel sat and talked to me. “Are you having a good weekend Newton?” She asked me. “Yeah dad and I have tickets for a Red Sox game, I’m really excited,” As this was being discussed unconsciously my vision shifted to Tobias and Mathew eating their food. “Well that sounds very exciting…” She didn’t sound like she trailed off. Somehow her voice went silent. The realization came that my hearing was gone.. After this my head turned back to my mentor. To my distress her hands were cupped over her ears. That's when I signed the question “can you understand me?” Dismay began to wash over as Ms. Marsel’s face displayed a pure look of terror. Never before did anyone have a breakdown in front of me, this changed that day. Hearing would return to me about ten minutes later, but Ms Marsel was completely lost, soon she was huddled in a fetal position and was unresponsive. Calling my parents was the only option. They sent emergency services. Something was just so odd about the situation. One Second she’s fine, just a few seconds later and she’s in an untameable state of madness. Things did not improve and she was eventually put into an institution and that’d be the last time I saw her. From that point forward my life would change. Depression took hold and without Ms. Marsel my life shifted in a different direction. Therapists had trouble understanding my predicament. Graduating from college was a goal of mine since being young, but just after a few semesters dropping out was necessary. Work was my only option. Many places in the area had openings, but after a couple interviews a grocery store hired me. A maximum of five employees were operating the store at any one time. Due to scheduling Maxine would manage our shifts. During my time there we’d become friends. We both worked the second shift. Meaning sometimes we’d close together. I smoked at the time, and she was the only manager who let me take a smoke break whenever I wanted. Average night shifts became a routine.of mine. Morning used to be my domain, but at that point in my life there was a complete swap. On what seemed like an average Friday night a couple of old classmates invited me to a small gathering. It was the first time in a while we were going to see each other. Unfortunately Maxine wanted me to help her close that night. Usually it was only an extra thirty minutes or so, but she was reviewing some paperwork that evening. When asked how long she’d take, she replied it’d be “best” for me to begin going through the process of closing. Each register had already been tallied. Next in the process was to throw away the waste. Meaning all that was required was to take it to the bin. The door was required to be jammed to stay open. There was a metal wedge on the ground near the door that did just that. What made the wedge awkward to place wasn’t weight (although it was heavy). Rather the angle of the door. Bread was first to go out. Once the bread was thrown into the bin, the sensation that something was there started culminating. That feeling grew by the second crate of waste. Out of nowhere the sound of something sprinting could be heard, somehow the door became unjammed and slammed shut behind me. How loud the sound was shocked me. Regardless, I walked and knocked on the window to the office to get Maxine to let in me through the front. Maxine had a surprised look on her face. Aside from that she had an odd question, “How did you get outside from the bathroom?” Explaining how the door shut behind me was harder than anticipated. For some reason she was confused. She thought I was in the bathroom while I was outside. Together we checked the bathroom, after discovering it was empty we continued to close. Proceeding all of this the last two steps were looking through the store and locking it up. Somehow Maxine still had just a little bit more paperwork. She told me to take a quick smoke break, which I happily complied with. Smoke from the cigarette filled my lungs. Stressors of the day began fading, then it happened again. In that instant my hearing subsided. Stuck in silence, the cigarette was soon finished. While walking back to store the sensation that something was there with me peaked out its ugly head again. Looking around there appeared to be nothing in the dark, but then while reaching for the door, it opened. Maxine came out with a disturbed look. She was screaming something, but she ran to her car. Subsequently my hearing came back, but at that point Maxine already left. After managing to close the store myself I finally made it to the gathering. Several days later was my next shift. We had a different manager and soon I was told Maxine quit. Just about two weeks after that I’d pick up my last check. If Maxine wasn’t working there something told me neither should I. In the process of picking up my check a fellow coworker who worked as security on weekends was there, which was odd because it was the morning on a weekday. When he noticed me he approached me and wanted to ask some questions. “Did you see it?” He asked. “See what?” I responded “Newton, come here,” he said while expressing to me to come over and look at the security camera footage that he brought up. To my surprise Jack showed me throwing away the waste and soon I got to the bread. While I tossed it, behind me a blur appeared for a few frames. It ran into the door as it went inside. The door closed behind it. That’s when he played an angle which showed the hallway that had the entrances to the bathrooms. The blur passed by the camera and ran into the men’s bathroom. Video then showed Maxine walk by the bathroom and stop, then walk to let me in. Something exited the male bathroom in the process and went to the office. The office didn’t have a camera angle, but Jack the security guard sped up the footage briefly and Maxine came sprinting out. “Maxine said she realized she wasn’t alone in this office. Did you notice anything suspicious?” He implored. Being asked this led me to think about my condition, but nothing about that was said. Jack told me I may be contacted in the future. Connections that this situation posed to Ms. Marsel became obvious, and Maxine wouldn’t return my calls. After slipping into a depression it felt like my life was pivoting again. Singing and mixing my own music became my means of expressing myself. Buying equipment including a piano and a microphone was something I did even though my budget was tight. These were bad purchases, but it seemed important at the time. On top of that a tape deck converter for the mic was purchased, so that my voice and piano could be recorded and I liked the aesthetic. Sleep was only achieved during the day. At night, the basement of my apartment was my stage, and the recorder was my audience. It was during one of those sessions that my condition started acting up. Usually when this would happen at home I’d wait it out. This time I just happened to be recording before it happened. For some reason my decision was to record the silence. Nothing big occurred while sitting around, that was until I checked the recording after my hearing came back. Like all my recordings I yelled “take,” and a number. In this case the number four was yelled out by me. Then a rift on the piano was played, afterwards my voice could be heard. Silence eventually came and that’s all that was anticipated. That’s when I heard it. Demented and deep, the sound caused a shiver to shoot down a spine. It was a voice that seemed to whisper a language that was new to me. Soon the voice sounded like it was coming from over my shoulder goosebumps started forming. Thereafter the entire apartment was observed, but nothing was found. My thoughts told me whatever this had to be in the apartment with me, yet still earlier than usual I went to bed that night. Over the course of the next few days the recorder sat without me listening to it. My hope was that what was heard was hallucinated. Ultimately the impulse to listen overpowered me . The pit in my stomach began to swell, as I played back the tape. This time the deep dark whisper seemed to approach the mic, before being paused again. In the midst of all this the sensation that something was there with me grew. Calling my mother was my next action.. “What’s wrong?” She calmly asked. “Something is haunting me! Mom, please come get me.” I cried. My mother agreed to pick me up. While packing certain things, the decision was made to pack the tape recorder with the feared tape. It was a constant struggle. My parents home made me feel somewhat safe, but still curiosity and wonder remained. Not knowing what to do with the tape, one day my parents tried to intervene. They approached me and asked what was wrong and what they could do. That’s how the decision was made to show them the tape. All three of us huddled around the tape recorder in the dining room. The tape started as normal with me yelling it was the fourth take, then silence and more silence. Suddenly the realization came that there was no deep voice. “Impossible,” I whispered aloud. “Are you sure you’re okay Newton?” My father questioned. “Of course I am dad, I’m not screwing around here. The reason I showed this tape was because something was on it.” I replied. “Newton, we just listened to silence for a minute.” He said with a more stern tone and continued, “You’ve got to get your act together.” To not get kicked out of my parents’ house they required me to get another job. The next day I went into town and started puting in applications at retail establishments. Towards the end of my excursion I made a discovery, a sign with the words “Mystic-Clairvoyant.” Something told me this person could help. Walking inside there was a strong aroma of sage. The front room had a desk and a few chairs. It was the decor that stood out. Figurines of all shapes and sizes littered the room. Most of them appeared to be made from polished stone. There were beads that divided the rooms and the walls were painted a light indigo color. Through the beads from the other room walked a woman in a pink dress. She almost seemed to have a concerned look on her face when she first saw me. “Can I help you?” She probed. I stepped back towards door and I said “I don’t know… I can leav-” “-No! I’m sorry. Would you like a reading?” She apologetically cut me off. At that moment she seemed genuine. “How much is it? I replied with a curious tone. “Twenty dollars for a twenty minute session.” She announced. An agreement was made for a session. We went into the backroom. There was a table and shelf. The shelf had one of those glass balls on it. A deck of Tarot Cards sat on the table, but she took it off and put it on the shelf. She turned on a soft overhead light, while she turned off all the other lights. She started lighting candles. After she sat down she shook her hands, and then asked “Would you put out your right hand for me?” While complying an uneasy sensation washed over me. Upon grabbing my hand she jolted somewhat, as she closed her eyes. “I see a lot of pain and suffering. Something awful is happening. Something is trapped. I’m getting the initials RG. Something written. Something- No. No. No!” As she said this her demeanor shifted. Then she continued by yelling, “You must leave immediately!” After I walked out the door she locked it behind me. This experience damaged my already fragile anxiety. Nothing seemed right about my life. Not long after I’d get an interview. It went well and I ended up getting a job at a clothing store. Low key and nothing special. To not repeat anything with my coworkers I kept my distance. Thursday was one of my days off and I did some research while at the library. On the initials RG. Only the names of celebrities came up and I thought I hit a wall. So instead I researched documents. I burned through famous journals eventually finding nothing. That’s when I started reading through political documents. This led to the Mayflower Compact. It was America’s first Government Document. That’s when I saw it. The name “Richard Gardiner.” Very little was provided on the person. On another day I sat around the dining room table with my parents. Apartments is what we discussed at first until I asked my parents if they knew anything about Richard Gardiner. Expecting nothing, I was surprised by what they revealed. “Your great grandfather’s last name was ‘Raymond Gardiner.’” My father began. Then continued, “Your uncle lives at your.grandparents’ old house. He lives over in Pittsfield From what I remember there were family documents in the attic..” Following the conversation I contacted my uncle. Not many days later I drove west to Pittsfield. The house that my grandparents lived in was a strange place. It had a Victorian style architecture and the smell of old wood and must. When I explained to my uncle that I was trying to figure out our heritage and if there was anything related inside the house that he knew of. He took me upstairs to the attic and showed me a box. In this box were some pictures, a few postcards, and some letters sent between my grandmother's mother and her grandmother. All of this was from long into the past. Uncle David told me to take the box with me because he wasn’t feeling well. Apparently the box had my answers. All the documents went back to Mineral Hills. About a week or so was spent scanning through the documents. My grandmother had several pictures of her family. Every picture had her mom, dad and two siblings, but they also had someone else appear in every photo. Some guy in a suit with a cane. He looked young in the photos. What was especially odd was how in all the photos he didn’t seem to age. Even though the photos were marked as being many years apart and my grandmother’s family aged. The man in the suit did not. Just after viewing the pictures I discovered a document with our family tree. It did not contain the name Ron Gardiner, but it did contain a name to the left with an arrow drawn straight down to the bottom, which was unique from the rest. His name was “Edward Fichinham.” There was only one letter that mentioned the name. My great grandmother said to my grandmother, “Edward, the man in the suit with the cane still watches us.” Back to the library I went, this time to research the unknown name. What I discovered startled me. The only match was for an occultist practitioner from the Medieval Ages. It was rumored that he was attempting to figure out a way to live forever, but somehow disappeared. One way or another I found myself on a paranormal forum. What a user said was, “Entities interact with electronics,” it also said, “Entities can get trapped.” Afterwards I asked my father if he’d heard of the name “Edward Fichinham.” He seemed somewhat thrown off by the question, but still responded with, “No, why do you ask?” “His name was mentioned amongst some documents of grandma’s.” I responded. “Can you show me?” He inquired. When I showed him the pictures he jolted. “That man, he’s… Familiar.” He blurted out. He wouldn’t mention anything further. I’m going to do further investigation and report back in the future.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qc9a2/something_disturbing_is_happening_in_my_family/

nosleep

TheContemptInsomniac

I think something is following my son.

I (43F) think something is following my son (17M). A couple nights ago he went to hang out with some friends. Ever since he came home he’s been acting..strange. He won’t talk to me no matter what I try. He’s locked in his room and won’t come out. And some of you might be like ‘Well isn’t that just normal teenager?’ and maybe it is for some but my son is NOT like that. He’s an amazing boy and I’m truly worried about him. Especially after what happened last night. It was maybe 3:00 AM? Somewhere around then and I woke to crashing and screaming from his room. I ran to him and when I opened the door I saw him sitting straight up, eyes wide open. His eyes were vacant and he had this creepy grin plastered on his face. I was horrified. But that’s not even the worst part. I heard scratching coming from above my head. I looked up and saw this slim, spider-like black creature hanging from the ceiling. Its claws were dug into the roof and its eyes were glowing red. It was staring at my son, not looking away. I didn’t know what to do. This..thing clearly wanted him. For what I had no clue. It’s the morning now and I didn’t get any more sleep. My son is still in his room and I haven’t been back in. I’m considering calling a medium or maybe an exorcist to get rid of this creature. UPDATE: I called the medium and I’m even more worried than before. As soon as she walked into the house she looked like she was going to be sick. She told me she felt a very strong evil presence and no shit. There was A FUCKING DEMON HANGING FROM MY SONS CEILING. Sorry, sorry. I’m just freaking out a little here. When I took her to my sons room and showed her where I saw the demon, fear filled her face. She told me it wasn’t good. She said my son had brought a demon home. It’s been a couple hours since she left and all I can think about is what did my son do that night? Was he really with friends? UPDATE 2: I saw the demon again tonight. I was brushing my teeth when something brushed against the top of the mirror. When I looked up I saw it. Its long black limbs, red eyes, and sharp teeth. Something was dripping from its teeth and a drop of it fell on my forehead. When I reached up and wiped it from my forehead my fingers came away red. It was blood. I screamed and ran out of the room. I locked myself in my bedroom for what must’ve been an hour. After the hour mark, I realized I hadn’t heard my son in his room since before I was in the bathroom, showering and getting ready for bed. When the demon had showed up with blood on its teeth. What if..what if it was my sons blood? I raced to his room and there he was. Laying dead on the bedroom floor. Blood pooled around him and his eyes were wide open, that same stupid grin on his face. I couldn’t stand to be in that room any longer so I ran back to my room. It’s been a couple hours now and I can hear the blasted monster scratching at my door. Sooner or later it’s going to get in and I think we all know how that ends.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qg1ol/i_think_something_is_following_my_son/

nosleep

SadieClaus_

I Found My Old Scrapbook and Learned Strange Things About the Town I Live in

My family has always been at the center of my life. I grew up in this quiet town where my childhood was spent, with my mother, father, and sibling. That house, those streets, and those people meant everything to me. But now, I'm embarking on a mysterious journey into my past, and this journey begins with my family. My family was the most precious treasure in my life. My father's warm laughter, my mother's loving smile, and the unforgettable moments I shared with my sibling... They all became immortal memories for me. They were the building blocks of my childhood in this town. My family was also the custodian of memories. Our old photo album was a sacred book that carried traces of our past. Each page would bring back memories of moments we once lived. The photos were filled with memories of our family's happy moments. Recently, I revisited my long-forgotten family album. As I flipped through the pages, my hands felt like they were reliving the memories to bring them back to life. And in that moment, I found a mysterious photograph on one of the pages. In the photograph, we had stopped on a road as a family and taken a picture together. In the background, there was a signboard for a town named "**Sonhoax**." I remembered the town; my childhood was spent there. However, I didn't recall this name at all. As far as I knew, the town was called "**Xtress**." This strange discrepancy piqued my curiosity. Why was the town's name so different? And why did this new name appear in our family album? My family had never mentioned anything about this name. This enigma sent shivers down my spine, and I felt the need to remember the name of the town. This was the first step in my decision to explore my silent past. I had plenty of time on my hands, so I could easily spare a day for this. And I did. Inside the house, there was a warm and cozy atmosphere. The wooden floors had aged gracefully, bearing the intimacy of years, and each floorboard seemed to witness the memories from our family's past. The old woven carpets cushioned every step, carrying the imprints of the years spent in this house. In the middle of the living room, there was a large fireplace. It had witnessed my father's stories, my mother warming us, and the many warm moments shared with my sibling. The family photographs on the fireplace served as a reminder of the passage of time. The walls of our home were like the pages of our family album. Pictures and paintings were fragments that told the story of our family. My sibling's portrait, my father's favorite instrument, my mother's handmade quilts... Everything was a reflection of what had happened in this house. I ascended the attic stairs, and the wooden steps creaked gently. In the attic, there were old items collected over the years. Dusty boxes, worn-out furniture, and forgotten toys... But my goal was to find something more special. My memory book was the most valuable treasure containing memories of my childhood. It was a result of my desire to trace the beautiful days I had experienced in the town. I had lost it the day before leaving the town and found it under a walnut tree about two hours later. I couldn't leave without it. This book contained what I had written about the friendships and events in that town. I couldn't leave without it. As I wandered in the attic, I carefully searched through each box. Finally, in a dusty corner, I found an old wooden chest. I opened the lid of the chest and among the old items inside, I found my memory book. The cover of the memory book was covered in dust, but its contents were still fresh and vivid. I took the memory book in my hands and began to flip through its pages. I recognized my handwriting, a mix of cursive and print, just as I used to write back then, and even the darned "**koes**" term was there. "**Koes**" was a term I had coined, meaning "**silly**." This was my memory book, containing the memories of my childhood and helping me relive the days spent in the town. As I read, I saw the name of the town in the memory book. Yes, I remembered it correctly. It was the town of **Xtrees**. With the joy of solving the mystery, I continued reading the memory book, but as I read my memories, I began to sense that something was amiss. The first strange memory within my memories was about a summer day by the lake with my friends. As I read that memory, I started to relive that day. The sun was shining, and the waters of the lake promised coolness and adventure. My friends and I gathered on the sandy shore by the lake to enjoy the day. We built sandcastles together, played pranks, and laughed until our stomachs hurt. At this point in my recollection, I noticed a discrepancy between my own memories and what was written in the memory book. In my own version, all of my friends had been frolicking in the water for hours, and we had returned home in the late afternoon. But in the memory book... it was different. In the memory book, it narrated Tiffany's entry into the water in a strange and inexplicable manner. She had silently stepped into the water and then disappeared into the deep. The rest of us had panicked and returned to the shore, eventually going home, but Tiffany never came back. This discrepancy sent a chill down my spine. It was not as I had remembered it, and this strange change piqued my curiosity even more. I was determined to continue reading the other memories because I wanted to learn more about this town and its secrets. As I turned the page to the next memory, I encountered even more mystery than before. This memory was about Tiffany. About her disappearance. I tried to recall that memory in my mind, but there was no trace of such an event in my own memories. In the memory book, it described the day Tiffany went missing. I was asking my parents about what had happened to Tiffany, and they were inquiring about who Tiffany was, claiming they didn't know her. It was as if Tiffany had never existed. In my own memories, I remembered hanging out with Tiffany countless times, playing games, sliding down the slide, going to McDonald's together, and many other moments. But according to the memory book, Tiffany had disappeared. Tiffany's existence was a definite reality for me, but the memory book was saying something else. This contradiction filled me with dread. I was beginning to realize that something was not right. I needed more information to understand the depth of this memory book. It was incredibly mysterious and was distorting my perception of reality. As I moved on to another memory, I was transported to the time of New Year's. In this memory, it was written about the joy and excitement of the town's Christmas celebrations. In my memories, I recalled going to Tom's house, where all our friends gathered for a wonderful Christmas party. We danced, told jokes, and exchanged gifts. I even remembered how Chris had stolen Tom's chocolates and how all of us had gathered to take them back from Chris. Those memories brought a smile to my face. However, in the pages of the memory book, this New Year's memory was told in an entirely different way. Instead of the innocent Christmas party at Tom's house, there was something completely different. In the memory book, I was describing the brutal murder of Tom and his family, and how the police had arrived at the crime scene. My family had learned about the incident from the neighbors. The police and the town's elders had gathered, discussing the killer, and I had learned all this by secretly eavesdropping on my parents' late-night conversations. But such an event had never occurred. On that day, no such event had taken place, and it was not in my memory. In my memory, Tom and my other friends had gathered at that house to eat, have fun, and play games. However, the memory book contained a different and nauseating narrative, and this writing had deeply affected me. As I wandered between the pages, I read that the police had been unable to find the killer. Despite being a part of a town where people lived in fear, I had no recollection of such horrifying events. And the fact that I didn't remember was even more unsettling. What was happening? These pages of the memory book were completely overturning my sense of reality. The gap between the pleasant Christmas celebrations we had experienced in the past and this horrifying event was making the mysteries of the memory book and the town even more complex. I needed to understand what was going on and uncover this horrifying truth. After these memories, my fear and curiosity grew even stronger. Each page brought more questions and more concerns, but I was not willing to give up on solving these mysteries. The next memory told the story of the colorful ice cream truck that came to our town. Children scattered in excitement, running to the truck to get their favorite ice creams. However, I was down with fever that day and couldn't go outside. Amid the melancholy caused by my illness, I watched from the window as my friends eagerly waited in line for ice cream. In my memories, I visualized my friends getting ice cream for me and bringing it home, and we would enjoy it together in the backyard while joking and savoring the taste of summer. They visited Aly after me, as she was also sick. That's how I remembered it. But in the memory book, it described something entirely different. It said that all the children who had gone to the ice cream truck had disappeared. Despite the search efforts of those around, there was no trace of them. With a sense of dread, I turned the page and encountered a horrifying revelation. According to the memory book, when night fell, my family had been watching the news on television. I had secretly tried to watch it from the living room. The news on the television channel reported that the missing children had been found dead, frozen in the deep freezer of a nearby factory. This news had shaken me to my core. The warm summer day I remembered had turned into a dark and cold tragedy. The memory book was indicating that these horrifying events had indeed taken place in the town, and I was preparing myself to read more memories. I want to tell you something about Aly. Aly... she was a beautiful girl. Sweet and like-minded. She was more like a kindred spirit among the girls in our group. After the ice cream incident, we became a couple months later. One night, as we were returning from the local cinema, she separated me from the group and confessed her feelings for me in a private setting. I told her that I had feelings for her too, even though I didn't have any romantic attachment to her. We were just at an age where we thought it was cool to be in a relationship, so I became her boyfriend. When I turned to the next page, I came across a memory that was claimed to have happened between Aly and me. However, I didn't remember this event. The memory book recounted events between Aly and me. After the tragic events, Aly and I had been left feeling a sense of emptiness. According to the memory book, one day Aly told me that she would be moving away from the town and wanted to share this with me. With tears in her eyes, she confessed that she had loved me for so long and wanted to admit it. I, however, didn't feel a romantic connection with Aly; I saw her as a good friend. I didn't say anything to avoid making the situation more complicated and just hugged her. Later, Aly said, "Goodbye," and left. On the next page, I read that I had learned from my family that Aly and her family had been in a car accident that night and had all lost their lives. Learning the painful truth behind Aly's sudden departure had deeply shaken me. Aly's sincere confession and her subsequent tragic death had left me with a complex mix of emotions. I couldn't understand her feelings at the time, and witnessing her loss had been heartbreaking. The memory book was making this painful experience even more difficult as I tried to solve the mysteries of the town. It was a day that had never happened, but... a part of me was deeply affected. I felt a void. The memory book had recorded the silence of the town, something I didn't remember. According to the memory book, every day at 7 p.m., all sounds in the town would cease, and there would be complete silence until 8 p.m. But such a thing had never happened in the village where I lived. In the memory book, I wrote that I could never understand the reason for this silence but didn't question it either. After all, I was a child, and it didn't bother me. The events in the memory book were spiraling out of control. In the diary, it was written that I had sneaked out of my home without my family's permission at half-past seven. It also said that I had gone to the town center. There, I observed people never talking to each other, and this struck me as strange. Just as I was about to open my mouth to ask someone something, a stranger immediately covered my mouth. I couldn't understand what was happening. I tried to scream, but my mouth was held tightly shut. After struggling for about ten minutes, he let me go. It was written that he scolded me, saying, "**What do you think you're doing?!?! Didn't your family teach you what will happen if you speak in the square at 7 o'clock?!?!**". I was in shock, staring at the man. The man told me, "**Those who speak at 7 o'clock never return, kid! Don't ever forget this! Now, go back home!**" He said this while I was crying, and I ran back home. Of course, I never remembered this memory, but what was this silence event? With every page I turned, a new mystery unfolded. When I reached the last page, I started reading the notes at the end of the diary. On the last page, I had written that we were leaving this town and that I would never forget my friends. This final page felt like a farewell message, and I felt a strange melancholy while reading it. "*In these last days of leaving this town, memories and losses we left behind occupy my mind. You were my friends who gave me the brightest moments of my life, but this town took you away from me.* *This diary is proof of the fearful moments we experienced, a way to never forget them. I don't want to forget you, but living with the weight of these memories is getting harder every day. I hope we meet again somewhere else, in a better life. Goodbye, unforgettable friends.*" The diary was completed, its pages were finished. Suddenly, I felt like I fell into a great void. I started to contemplate the meaning of these memories and events. Were these events really happening, or were they just a product of my imagination? I knew that these events didn't happen, or at least I remembered they didn't. But why would I make up these stories? These questions occupied my mind for hours. Finally, I decided that there was only one way to find the answers to these questions: to go to that town. The writings in the diary had revealed the mystery of the town and the strange events that happened there. If I wanted to understand these events and question their reality, I needed to go to the town. This decision aroused both curiosity and fear within me. Going to the town meant plunging into an unknown mystery, and I didn't know what I would encounter. But after all that had happened with the diary, I felt that it was time to confront the unknown. I was determined to uncover the town's mystery and started on my journey, ready to face the uncertainties. Remembering the way to the town was surprisingly easy. Despite the town described in the diary being very different from the one I knew, I somehow remembered the path. My eyes confirmed it as I arrived at the place where the town should be. It wasn't abandoned, but rather an empty expanse of land. I got out of the car and looked around in shock. The road was correct, and a sign two kilometers back read "**Sonhoax**." This was the town, the same town. The only living thing in the town was a large walnut tree rising where the town center should be. It was a massive tree. I approached it and stood in the shade, scanning the surroundings. I was here to remember what had happened, but now it seemed like nothing had happened at all. I looked at the trunk of the walnut tree. It seemed rotten, but it was still standing strong. Then my foot caught on something buried in the soil. It felt like paper. Thinking I needed to dig a bit, I used my hands to unearth it. What I found sent a shiver down my spine. ***It was a world map, but the names of the countries on this map didn't resemble any country names in the world...***

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qei0u/i_found_my_old_scrapbook_and_learned_strange/

nosleep

SanalAmerika23

August 2023 Winners!

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qnu3k/august_2023_winners/

nosleep

TheCusterWolf

My Uber Driver Doesn't Work For Uber

I had just moved out of my mother's house at the ripe age of 20 years old, I moved a few towns over due to where my new job was that I was accepted into. My POS car though didn't exactly like that distance as just as I got all moved into my new house it took a complete crap on me. This was about the worst case of bad luck somebody could get, my car was a 2019 Toyota Camry that I got brand new and almost as soon as I got on that new plot of pavement it turned into a 1600s Tesla. I had a mechanic come check it out and I was dumbfounded as the engine and battery were entirely blown out. With the amount of damage that I could only believe God had caused I wouldn't be able to buy the repairs for my car until I actually went to my job to get the check, now I think you know where this is going. At this point it's been a few days since my car screwed me over so I needed a ride quick, so I installed and set up an Uber account. After searching the app I found someone who seemed to fit my needs as they were my age, drove a nice and reliable looking vehicle, and had incredible reviews. I thought I saw all I needed so I booked the drive and set up the pickup at a nearby park where I hauled my ass to with my bag. I waited anxiously on one of the benches near the road on my Uber account, I got a bit freaked out as there were errors popping up everywhere. I was supposed to be at work within the hour and I was afraid my driver would be late. I was about to just sprint to work when a car pulled up in front of me that resembled the description that was on the app. I knew it was my driver as I saw a sticker on the passenger side door that had a number, the same number that was on the profile. Something was off though as I noticed that the windows were heavily tinted at a point where I couldn't see anything at all within the car but the window was rolled down hardly a few inches, "Marcy Williams?" A woman's voice crawled through the gap. "Um yeah, you're just in time." I said. I heard the doors unlock and I instinctively got in the backseat. I sat in the seat and put my bag beside me as I buckled up, then I looked up and saw the oddest thing. There was a sort of barrier in between the back and front seats, like something you'd see in a limo to give both the driver and the passengers their privacy. I chuckled nervously, "Never seen this in a Sedan before." I said. The car jolted down the street at what felt like 70 miles an hour, I didn't even have time to put my seatbelt on. The car then slowed down as it got to the actual street, "New model." A mind melting voice said to me. It terrified me more than seeing my own death. The voice sounded like any ordinary text-to-speech text but sounded more human than any kind, the uncanniness shocking me to the core. The other thing that scared me was that the voice I heard at the moment sounded entirely different than the one that greeted me outside of it. I looked at the car handles to find a lock and handle for me to grab, but I found nothing. Anything on any part of the car door you'd normally see wasn't there to be replaced by just a smooth surface. However the window was the worst part, not only could I see absolutely nothing but I stared at a twisted version of myself in the reflection. Flesh was peeled off of me, my muscle sizzled away, and my skull disintegrated lie dust, my eyes bleeding, all with an ecstasy filled smile like none of it mattered. I shot back in my seat pounded on the limo's backseat shield, "Who the fuck are you?" I shouted as I tried unlocking the seatbelt. Instead of coming off me the seatbelts restricted me like a python but burned me like getting branded, I screamed in pain as the car then stopped. "That won't matter now." The first womanly voice I heard said. The car melted away and I was left on the fleshly ground with now membrane-like appendages held me down, I looked and saw myself in a concrete space that looked like it was meshed with muscle. "It seems you ordered Uber Eats ." The now disembodied woman's voice stated. Then suddenly a twisted and mangled body with different patches of skin hovered over me with solid black eyes, bulging miscolored veins, and patches of flesh dripping off a woman's face. A pair of mandibles punctured through her skin, the sharp appendages stuck into my throat to make me scream. I felt the life being drained out of me, "Thank you for ordering Uber Eats, we appreciate your life support." The disturbing and twisted "Human" voice spoke as it then went to the woman's voice as I fell back to pass out. The EMS found me lying in the park a week later, I had to be put on life support for four years. I'm writing still from the ICU with a respirator and a VAD. I'm not too sure how long I'll make it for so I'll give you some advice. Just buy a bike or something, it could save your life.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qopbp/my_uber_driver_doesnt_work_for_uber/

nosleep

EmoXan

I was a special agent who infiltrated North Korea. I barely escaped with my life [part 1]

A man in dark sunglasses, wearing an expensive black suit and carrying a fine Italian suitcase, strode purposefully towards me. I could smell the Givenchy cologne radiating off of him before he reached me. The sun shone directly in my eyes as I stared at him, wondering where this would lead. “Hello, soldier,” he said, shaking my hand with an iron grip. I saw his freshly-cut hair and the slight bulge under his shoulder where he kept his pistol. The thought came rushing into my head, unbidden: Looks like a fed. “Good afternoon, sir,” I said, saluting him briskly. He swatted away the gesture. “You don’t need to do that,” he said. “In fact, you may be done saluting and polishing boots forever, soldier. I have a potential job offer for you, if we could speak in private.” “What’s your name?” I asked. “Agent Streicher,” he said. “And I already know yours, Sergeant Todes.” I looked into his mirrored shades, wondering what hid behind them. “I have a job for you, a real, God-honest career. You could be done with the Marines today, if you wanted.” He looked over to the administrative building, the clear glass doors opening and closing as people came and went. He looked back at me, putting his hand on my shoulder in a fatherly way. “So will you listen?” “Yes, sir,” I said, and we walked into the administrative building, the blast of cold air conditioning feeling like a drink of water after wandering around the desert all day. He found a small, unoccupied office marked “Conference Room” and motioned me inside, closing the door behind us. I sat down in the small, poorly-padded chair on one side of the wooden desk, and he took the large, leather one across from me. From my vantage point, I could still see outside. Marines passed back and forth on their way to whatever duties they needed to carry out, and support personnel came and went from the admin building and medical ward across the street. They reminded me of ants, constantly rushing forwards for the good of the hive. From far away, the lines of soldiers even looked like ants. “So,” Agent Streicher began slowly, “Sergeant Jintao Todes. We finally meet.” He said my name slowly, as if tasting its syllables, pondering what it could mean. “You certainly are an adept soldier. You graduated in the top 5% of your class from bootcamp, and your IQ test shows you are in the top 1% of the American population. You have a bachelor’s degree from UConn and also graduated at the top of your class there. Moreover, you have joint South Korean and American citizenship.” I nodded at this, unsurprised. This was a man who did his research. “You speak fluent Korean?” “Yes,” I said, nodding. “I speak Korean and English. I grew up with both of them.” “Great!” he said, clapping his hands together excitedly. “You are exactly what we need. I’m recruiting from the CIA, and we need someone experienced and competent, someone who speaks the language and understands the culture. Would this mission fit you, soldier? What do you think?” “I… don’t know,” I said truthfully. It felt like this entire encounter had come out of nowhere. It had an unreal quality to it. I couldn’t believe the CIA actually had an interest in me. “You won’t be alone,” he said quickly. “We have another, more experienced agent who would accompany you.” I just stayed quiet. He pulled out a contract, showing me a paragraph marked with a hand-written star. “This is a one-time offer, Sergeant Todes. Either you sign now, or you will never see us again.” He pointed at the marked paragraph. I grabbed the contract, spinning it around and quickly reading it. The section he had marked discussed compensation: $70,000 a year, plus hazard pay as well as potential bonuses for dangerous assignments. This was far more than my salary as a Sergeant for the Marines, which was laughably small. “OK, fine, I’m in,” I said, smiling slightly. I shakily rose from my seat, and he did the same, extending his hand. We shook, and suddenly the future seemed bright, exciting- even limitless. \*\*\* I had eighteen months of training after that, and then assumed the title of Agent Todes, an Operations Officer for “The Company”. My new partner, a gruff man with a thick Southern accent, didn’t speak much or reveal anything about his past. For my first assignment, I was told to go to a small office on the top-most floor of the building. I walked in, seeing a man standing there next to the desk, a file in hand. I looked him up and down, seeing a muscular gym rat with blue eyes, a tanned complexion and very dark hair. He didn’t smile, his stony face just observing, seemingly seeing everything. In his black suit, standing six-foot-three, he made an imposing figure. “I’m Agent Todes, sir,” I said, stepping forward to shake his hand. He quickly looked away, pretending not to notice it, and I put it down. “Yeah, I know who you are,” he said. “Cut the ‘sir’ crap. My name is Agent Hudson. Or Mark. Since we will probably be killing people together, I assume we should start on a first-name basis, right, Jintao?” A slight smile crossed his lips, a smile that didn’t reach his cold, blue eyes. He had the eyes of an executioner. A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt suddenly glad that this man was on my side. “This is our first assignment. Should be easy for a young hotshot like you.” He pushed the folder into my chest, hard. I grabbed it, and he started walking out of the room. “Where do we meet?” I asked. He didn’t even turn his head. “Six AM, a car will be sent to your apartment. After that… maybe we’ll meet in Hell, I don’t know.” He laughed at his own joke, slamming the door behind him. I pulled the rolling chair back from the desk, putting the folder down. First I went to the breakroom and made myself a cup of green tea, using lots of gyokuro leaves from Japan. Carrying the cup back to the office room, the fragrant steam rising from the cup, I thought of all the possibilities in that folder. It could be a mission to go to the rainforests of Central America, or the jungles of Cambodia, or the vast forests of Siberia. I opened to the first page, my heart beating fast in my chest. I read through the preliminary report quickly, feeling a sense of disappointment. We were to go to the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, more commonly called North Korea. The orders said Mark and I would travel to a biological and chemical weapons facility near the Chinese border, find out as much information as we could, and travel back to the rendezvous point. It was fairly short on details from there, and I figured I’d find out more when the time came. I went back home, eating a big meal and getting some sleep, setting my alarm early so I could shower and shave before the CIA car whisked me away, bringing me to new and exciting places. I dreamed that night of endless tundras, and open oceans, and forests filled with wonder. \*\*\* The car showed up exactly at 6 AM. I saw Agent Hudson sitting in the passenger seat. An older man, probably in his sixties, sat behind the wheel. I had never seen him before. I got in the back seat. The smell of cologne and air freshener filled the car, a pleasant combination, like vanilla and flowers. I looked at the older man in the rearview mirror. He smiled at me, his dark eyes meeting mine. He stared at me for a long moment. “Agent Streicher recruited you, huh?” he asked, more of a statement than a question. I nodded. “He’s a good man, Streicher. He recruited me, too, all those years ago. “My name’s Al, by the way. I’m semi-retired, but I still drive for the Company,” he said, using the informal name for the CIA. A lot of people who worked for it simply called it, “The Company” or “The Agency”, assuming everyone would know exactly what agency they meant. “Nice to meet you, Al,” I said, feeling tired. I had taken a caffeine pill and some ginseng supplements just before I left, but the combination hadn’t kicked in yet. I looked up at Mark, who stared out the passenger’s side window, not speaking. “Is this your first time in the DPRK?” Al asked. I nodded. “Boy, some crazy shit goes down in that country. My dad was in the Korean War. Have you ever heard of a gwishin?” I had heard the term, but I didn’t really know anything about it. “No, I grew up in the USA. I speak Korean, my family taught it to me, but I don’t really know the urban legends,” I said. His eyes narrowed as he drove down the highway towards the military airport. “This is no urban legend,” he said cryptically. “The gwishin is real. My dad actually saw one when he was on guard duty. “He said he was alone in the watchtower. Their company had taken heavy losses; usually they had two people on guard duty, but until reinforcements arrived, he had to do it alone. He mostly just chain-smoked cigarettes and drank coffee, he said. Nothing ever really happened. Then one night, something finally did, and it wasn’t North Korea behind it. “He said he saw women walking out of the trees, each of them in a white funeral gown. They had stringy black hair covering their faces, and he couldn’t see their eyes. He didn’t even know how they saw to move forward. Their hair went all the way down past their chests, and they seemed… well, strange, inhuman even. He called out broken Korean, telling them this was a military outpost and they needed to turn around immediately. They just kept walking, going faster and faster now, their movements jerky and unnatural. He knew something was wrong, and he called for back-up, turned off the safety on his gun, and started to aim. “He called out again, telling them that he would be forced to fire if they didn’t stop immediately. They started running towards the guard tower then, a dozen of them, and as they ran, the wind blew the hair back from their faces. He saw they had skulls beneath- grinning, bloody skulls with pieces of rotted flesh still hanging off. They were barefoot, and he saw the bones in their feet from where the skin and muscle had worn away. It was eerie, how they jerked and limped at such superhuman speeds, he said. “He opened fire, but they had reached the ladder of the guard tower. He shot a few, but they kept coming, twisting their bodies unnaturally, dark blood staining their white gowns a black color. He could see straight through some of them where the bullets had torn through their arms or legs, but they seemed to feel no pain. “He started to pray, and he saw rotted, pale hands reaching up from the ladder to the guard tower. Without thinking, he jumped, a fairly long fall, he said, but he rolled and only ended up breaking three fingers and his arm and spraining his ankle. In immense pain, he tried to run as fast as he could, and then the reinforcements arrived. By the time they got to the tower, they found only trails of dark, clotted blood, and some stringy black hair still on the deck- where my father had been.” He stopped talking, taking the exit to the airport. The silence in the car seemed deafening. He pulled up to the gate, showing his identification. The security guard let the gate rise and radioed something from his post. Soon we were pulling up to the jet, and Al was waving goodbye to Agent Hudson and me. “Good luck, new-blood,” he said to me. “And remember- my story wasn’t some campfire bullshit. There actually are things in those woods and in that country that aren’t normal. And with all their biological and chemical weapons research, it may be much, much worse now.” With that, he put his window up, turning the car around and driving away, a blur of black trim and squealing tires shining under the hot summer sun. \*\*\* On the flight over to China, Agent Hudson and I discussed the plan. We would sneak in through the relatively porous Chinese-North Korean border, at the exact time when the guards were being changed. We had about a five-minute window where the departing guard would brief the arriving guard in the station watchtower before coming back out. Moreover, we would be armed with various weapons, in addition to the Glock 30 I always carried in my shoulder holster under my suit. On the plane, we had two Heckler & Koch HK416 rifles, equipped with both fully automatic and semi-automatic switches. We had pre-filled magazines with dumdums, special bullets that would expand on impact and create catastrophic tissue injuries in any enemies we encountered. In addition, we had grenades, lots of round, blue M67s that would fragment and explode across an area forty-feet wide. And we had two very small guns with special needles filled with etorphine, a quick-acting opioid usually used to sedate elephants or large mammals that would instantly put down any normal human. We also had opioid-antagonists so that the person wouldn’t stop breathing after receiving etorphine. If we found any North Korean scientists or high-ranking officials and we thought we could take them out alive, we were supposed to try, using the tranquilizer gun, though this was a secondary priority. If we could get them close to the border, then a few auxiliary agents would be in place to grab the hostage from us. The North Korean border guard could be killed if the hostage was deemed valuable enough. This was all off-the-books, and if we were captured and tortured, the US would immediately deny any involvement or knowledge, and say we were lone wolves or mercenaries. Before we knew it, we were landing in China, in an airfield surrounded by lush trees. A Chinese driver who didn’t speak a lick of English was there, waiting. He took off quickly. I looked back at the sleek, metal jet, wondering if I would see it again. He dropped us off seemingly in the middle of nowhere. We were on a deserted dirt road, with deep potholes and large stones scattered all over. Next to us, a thick, dark-green forest loomed, rising up into the mountains that stood like watching giants overhead. I knew somewhere in that mountain range, the border between China and North Korea stood, and then our mission- and the killing- would begin. Though this happened two months ago, I still remember the eerie sensation that crawled over me then, as if my intuition knew of the horrors I would encounter that day. We had changed into camouflaged suits before leaving the plane. The patches on the cloth, shades of black, green and dark-green, were designed to match the flora in this region. Without hesitation, Agent Hudson began to tramp off in the woods, leaving the dirt trail behind. We didn’t talk on the walk. He checked an electronic compass in his pocket, seemingly adept at reading the bizarre, constantly-changing numbers on the screen. He would occasionally stop behind a tree, pull out the electronic compass, then slightly change paths again. Soon, I saw a small clearing with a watchtower up ahead. Looking to my left and right, from our vantage point high on the mountains, I saw more watchtowers peeking up from the North Korean terrain. They went on as far as they eye could see, spaced out in the thick forest, their tops rising above the trees like snake heads rising out of a pit. “This is the crossing point,” he whispered. “Be ready for anything.” I nodded grimly, and we walked forward. I took out my binoculars, and I saw the shape of a man on top of the tower. I was about to motion to Agent Hudson, but he had already seen it. He peered through his binoculars, frowning. “Should we cross if there’s still someone up there?” I asked. “I thought this was supposed to be the changing of the guard.” He looked at me strangely. “Look again,” he whispered. I took out my binoculars and really inspected the figure, though in the dying light of the day, it was hard to make out details. But after five or six seconds, I had seen- and realized- enough. The man, wearing a North Korean military uniform, had been crucified against the watchtower, his eyes cut out and his skin peeled off. Someone must have skinned him alive and then put the uniform back on his mutilated body. We walked forwards slowly, our HK416 rifles raised. Soon we reached the watchtower and found no one around it. We walked slowly up the stairs, making as little noise as possible, expecting an ambush. I came to the top of the tower, and found the man’s corpse, with thick nails driven through his wrists and ankles. He hung from the wall around the topmost room of the tower, his head drooping. I saw letters written behind him in Korean, thick lines of black paint: “And I looked, and beheld a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.” “That’s the Book of Revelation,” Agent Hudson started to say, when the corpse twisted violently and inhaled. The muscles on its skinned body writhed as it pulled against the nails, sending thick gouts of blood streaming down from its body. Snapping its teeth, its lipless mouth opening and closing with loud clacking sounds, it tried to lunge at me. Instinctively, I backed away, but the nails, driven deep into the thick wood, had kept the corpse attached. “Oh God,” I whispered, pulling out my pistol and pointing it at the head of the writhing body. “No!” Agent Hudson said, his voice fierce and commanding. “Don’t fire any guns unless necessary. The sound could draw attention, it could draw the whole damned North Korean military. Just leave it there. We have a mission, after all.” My head seemed to clear, and I put the pistol away. We walked back into the tower and started descending the stairs, the corpse still gnashing and snapping its teeth at the air as we left. Our plan was to go straight to the biological weapons laboratory after moving through the Chinese-North Korean border, but our plans went quickly awry when dozens of North Korean soldiers ran by in their brownish-gray uniforms. We were coming out of the watchtower, and thankfully we were far higher up in the mountains than the soldiers winding their way up the dirt road below. They only had one car, and the rest tried to run next to it. The car billowed out black smoke and gave the entire surrounding area a smell of burning and sulfur. All the soldiers I could see were extremely thin with sunken eyes and prominent cheekbones. They looked like they hadn’t seen a good meal in years- and since this was North Korea, they probably hadn’t. But they still were armed and far outnumbered us. We were supposed to use stealth to complete the mission, not raw force. A North Korean informant had given us the code to enter the biological weapons facility, and we would be entering at the slowest time of the day, when the fewest staff members were present. We would still have to kill any guards we encountered, however. “Change of plans,” Agent Hudson said, pointing to a deer trail that wound in the opposite direction of the approaching North Korean troops. “There’s a small border town nearby where we can hide temporarily, until the military clears off the road.” “There’s no other way?” I asked. He shrugged. “Not that I know of,” he said. “Our planned route follows that road. We could lay low for a couple hours, then come back and check out the area. Try not to be seen by any civilians, though. They’re all spies for the regime. These people turn in their own neighbors for an extra bowl of rice. Hell, half of them are eating snakes and rats and grass just to survive. They probably earn $1000 a year, at most. They would bring us right to the torture chamber if they caught sight of us.” “Yeah, I figured,” I said. “So, are we just not going to talk about what we saw back there?” Agent Hudson stopped suddenly, giving me a severe look. His blue eyes looked me up and down coldly. “OK, then talk about it,” he said. The statement caught me off-guard. I didn’t know how to respond to it. “Well, I mean… you have more experience than me. I was wondering what you thought,” I said. The trees around us rustled in the slight mountain breeze, the air smelling sweet and clean. I looked past Agent Hudson and could see for dozens of miles into the North Korean countryside. Quaint, small villages dotted the landscape, with dirt roads snaking their way through the thick trees. Far off in the distance, from the direction of the watchtower, we heard yelling, and from a different direction, dogs started barking. “Ah shit,” Agent Hudson said. “Let’s pick up the pace. They have tracking dogs, I think. I don’t know if they’ll pick up our scent and follow us, or whether they’ll catch the trail of whoever actually did that horrible crap- skinning the man alive and all that. But our trail is fresh, so I’m not liking our odds.” He began to speed-walk, pulling out the electronic compass and reading it as he went. From our view high up on the mountain, I could see a little town not far away. Agent Hudson did too, and he quickly pocketed the electronic compass. “OK, I know where we are,” he said. “Don’t need that anymore.” “So are you going to answer my question?” I asked. He walked fast besides me, breathing hard, a slight sheen of perspiration showing on his face. “I don’t have an answer for you, Jintao,” he said calmly. “Do you think I know everything strange and unusual we’ll encounter just because I’ve been in this job a few years? But no, I don’t know what’s going on, I’ve never seen anything like that before, and I hope, for both our sakes, that we never see it again.” “What do you think about what Al said, about biological and chemical weapons?” I said. “Do you think, maybe, they tested out some new agent, and it got out?” “I think the most likely answer is that the man we saw wasn’t actually dead. He might have looked dead when we first got there, but I’ve seen lots of people who looked dead and weren’t. Even being skinned alive, you can live for a while. Maybe he was in a stupor or a catatonic state from all the pain and shock he must have suffered. “Maybe they gave that soldier some drug or chemical agent so he wouldn’t feel pain, but it’s not like we saw Lazarus rising out of the grave. In my book, all we saw was a dying, crazed man nailed to the wall.” He stopped speaking, the dogs sounding much closer now. We had almost made it to the village. It looked fairly empty, though I saw a feral-looking, extremely skinny cat skulking around a nearby residence. As we entered the town, I realized just how dilapidated and shoddy the small houses and huts here looked. The one on the edge of the forest with the cat in the yard literally had holes in the roof, and the windows were broken and covered over with paper. No power lines ran to any of the houses. I thought to myself how cold and miserable the winters must be here, without electricity or central heating. As if on cue, an old woman came hobbling out of the house, stooping down to pet the cat. She looked tiny, no more than five-feet, and had an old-fashioned red satin dress covering her thin, shaking frame. She looked up at us with bleary eyes, the whites looking like yellowed jelly. She had a hunchbacked look, and took small, tottering steps as she leaned heavily on her wooden cane. After staring at us in surprise for a few long moments, she smiled, showing her few remaining teeth, spread out in her mouth like lone sentries scattered across a warzone. “Are you with the tour group?” she asked in Korean. I immediately answered, smiling. “Yes, we got separated, I’m afraid,” I said. She gave me a suspicious look, then she motioned for me to come inside the house. “Well, come in,” she said, “and I’ll get you food and water. Maybe we can find a way to get you back to your group.” “That’d be wonderful,” I said. Agent Hudson understood some Korean, but not much. I translated the conversation for him, and he grunted in assent. “I’m not eating any of this damn North Korean food,” he said. “It’s probably all cats and dogs. Did you know the North Korean government put up posters all around the towns, saying to eat dog-meat in the summertime because it cools you down? In reality, they just wanted free food for their people, and slaughtering wild dogs is one more way to give it.” I followed the old woman through the battered, cracked front door of the house. Inside, I saw a home that only someone in extreme poverty could love. A dirty, chipped table stood in the middle of the kitchen. A fire roared in the collapsing fireplace. Most of the bricks that composed it were either loose, fractured or missing entirely. Above the fire, I saw a black, metal pot. There was an odor of rotting wood and mold. I also smelled something strange coming from the pot, a smell almost like green tea. I walked over and looked in, inhaling deeply. In the boiling water, I saw only grass clippings and a dead snake, being cooked together for a disgusting broth. I looked up sharply at the woman, who didn’t seem to notice my revulsion. “You eat this?” I asked the old woman, who smiled wanly. “When we can catch snakes or rats to eat, we do,” she replied. “Otherwise it is just grass, and rotten cabbage from the government, along with powered milk sometimes or rice. But you can’t count on the rations coming in. They’ve been cut, and then cut again, until we feel constantly hungry.” “What’s your name?” I asked. “Hee-jin,” she said, bowing curtly. I wondered whether this woman was a friend, or a liability. I certainly didn’t want to kill her, and I also didn’t want to risk her running out to inform the authorities of our presence immediately after we left. I could see these same thoughts passing through Agent Hudson’s mind, his face turning stony as he looked down at her. “I’m Jintao, and this is Mark,” I said, purposefully not giving her our full names. Have you seen anything strange around here lately? We found a corpse in the woods that appeared to be… not fully dead.” Her eyes widened at this, and she uttered a short gasp. “We had that during the Arduous March, the famine that killed millions,” she said. “Some of the people who starved came back, and they were rabid, biting, totally insane. Nothing was left of their humanity. They were just agents of hunger, who went around eating the living.” “And what about the line, ‘And I looked, and beheld a pale horse.’ Have you ever heard that before?” I asked. She broke eye contact, looking down and to the left, hesitating for a long moment. “No, I’m sorry,” she said. In North Korea, Bibles could get you a death sentence or life in a concentration camp, so I doubted if she would have known the reference anyway. But something in her demeanor suggested that she knew more than she had said. I wondered if this was just paranoia from the stressful situation, or whether I was actually seeing it. As I relayed the conversation to Agent Hudson in full, I heard dogs barking outside and men calling orders. The heavy thud of many booted feet echoed from the dirt road through the village, and it seemed to be growing nearer by the second. Before I knew what was happening, I saw Agent Hudson take out his tranquilizer gun and shoot a dart into her stomach. She looked down, confused, then frowned. With seconds, she began to waver on her feet. “Oh,” she said, falling. Agent Hudson scooped her up in his arms as the knocks came from the front door- loud and insistent. Soldiers yelled in North Korean, stating that enemy agents had infiltrated the area and a search was underway. Agent Hudson ran to the bedroom, throwing the woman down on the threadbare mattress. I heard crashing from the front and back of the house, and heavy boots began to thud on the wooden floors. Without thinking, Agent Hudson and I took refuge in a closet in the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind us though leaving a slit to see outside. And we waited for the men to come in and discover us with guns drawn and take us to the torture chamber. ​ Part 2 [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16v9aan/i\_was\_a\_special\_agent\_who\_infiltrated\_north\_korea/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16v9aan/i_was_a_special_agent_who_infiltrated_north_korea/) ​

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16q27ea/i_was_a_special_agent_who_infiltrated_north_korea/

nosleep

CIAHerpes

My walk turned into a run

I was around 8 or 9 when this happened. I went to visit my grandparents on the other side of town. They lived 5 minutes away from an elementary school and I would often walk to it to play on the playground. A young family with a daughter my age lived right next door and we would play together whenever I came over. One day we decided to take a walk after having fun at the park. We still had energy and dinner wasn't ready yet so we wandered through the neighborhood. We were laughing and picking flowers along the way when I noticed a white van. We continued our walk and before you know it, I had completely forgotten all about it. My friend had stopped to tie her shoe and I was looking around for more flowers to pick when I realized that we had gone a lot further than we ever had before. I didn't recognize the houses in front of me and it was going to get dark soon. As soon as the thought enters my mind, I see the white van rounding the corner heading towards us. My stomach sank. It was the same van from earlier but something seemed different. They stopped in the middle of the road and stared at us. I tell my friend that we need to go and I ask her if she recognizes the houses around us or the van in front of us. She doesn't. I tell her that we should probably head home and she agrees. The van then drives past us slowly and the man in the passenger seat rolls down the window. "Do you girls know where 'Apple Street' is?" We both say no and I get a good look at the van. It has a picture of a vacuum on the side and a company name i don't remember. He tells us that they are cleaning houses in the neighborhood and they can't find the street they're looking for. I know I'm not supposed to talk to strangers so I grab my friends hand and I tell the men sorry but no we don't and we keep walking. We begin our walk home and my uneasy feeling grows stronger every step of the way. We were going back the same way we came when I start to recognize the houses. We're about 10 minutes away. Then I hear it. The van coming down the street behind us. I tell my friend to grab a rock from the path because now I'm sure they're following us. I'm scared but I know that we're not too far from my grandparents house and we can get there faster if we run. So that's what we do. Picture two terrified 8 year old girls running down the street with softball sized rocks in their hands. I look back and see the van racing after us and I can hear someone yelling. It's the man driving and I hear the word directions. I stop because i'm out of breath and I think maybe thats all they wanted and I was probably just overreacting. Boy was I wrong. As soon as I stop, my friend does too. So does the van. I get a good look at the driver this time and he's explaining that all they wanted was directions. But I know that something is wrong and before I get the words out, the sliding door opens and a man in the back is coming towards us. We throw the rocks at him and run as fast as we can to my grandparents house. When we get inside we start crying our eyes out. My mom had apparently arrived while we were gone and I run to her and my grandma and tell them what happened. She runs outside yelling at my grandma to call the cops while she looks for the van. She sees it parked 2 houses down and she charges it like a bull. I had ran out after her so I'm standing there screaming. My mom is tiny but she is fierce and in momma bear mode. The van starts to pull away and I'll never forget what happened next. She jumps onto the hood of the van and starts beating on their window. They stop and she yells that she's making a citizens arrest and they need to stop their car. They act like they are going to and they slowly pull over and park. She gets off the hood and as soon as she does, they race off. Thank God she managed to remember their license plate. When the police get there, they ask us so many questions and I try to explain everything that happened from the moment I first saw the van. They run the licence plate number and it comes back as out of state. They say that I can go now and they want to speak to my mom alone. When she comes back inside, I hear her talking to my grandma in the kitchen. What she said makes my blood run cold to this day. The man who owned the car, was linked to a kidnapping out of state and had a BOLO out for his arrest. The police ended up arresting all 3 men and we had to go in to give an official statement. My friend, my mom and I picked all 3 of them out of the lineup and they were charged with the kidnapping out of state and our attempted kidnapping. I never went walking in my grandparents neighborhood after that and I still cringe when I see a white van. Thats when I realized there is a reason for the creepy white van stories after all.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/k4ce2a/my_walk_turned_into_a_run/

LetsNotMeet

kikisturtle

Creepy Christian Ronald mc Donald Stalker

When I was around 15 y/o I was very active on many Facebook art groups (where I live everyone uses it don't shame me) and I got to meet many people online who were often my age and ended up making lots of friends, they were NEVER from my city though, not even my own country, so when I finally found someone from my city I got kind of excited. This dude told me he was my age (spoilers he wasn't, he was at least 18 at the moment) and like the dumb kid I was I believed him, we talked for 2 months I think and he seemed chill, at least until he started to ask for personal info and pictures of me, and lemme tell ya I may be and idiot but I'm not stupid and never sent anything. My fb profile didn't have any but sadly my mom did have some pics of me and I tend to stand out because I'm very tall and have recognizable features). Now, before continuing I want to address the title of this story, why Ronald Mc Donald? well, he was very VERY obsessed with Ronald Mc Donald, he had pictures of him everywhere and would share mostly old photos of the suit, but at the time I thought it was a joke or a weird aesthetic and since I've always loved creepy photos I didn't think much of it, at least until he started to show his clear devotion to the clown, he would say things like Donald was his hero and wanted to meet him, something that wasn't probable since we don't have Mc Donald’s in my country. In his mission to get to know me he asked if I was interested in someone and I said no, then proceeded to ask me if I wanted to be his girlfriend, I of course said no, he kept insisting so I lied and said I wasn't interested in anyone because I already had a girlfriend (I'm bi and I was very open about it online at that time), he quickly switched from "be my gf" to "you're a sinner", and that's when I knew this dude was religious and homophobic as fuck, he even asked me if my dad or any men had done "something" to me for me to like girls more, that's where I decided to fuck off and block him everywhere I could, he tried to contact me from different accounts but the way he writes is very distinct so I blocked them too. He would be everywhere, I would join a group for artist-only and he would pop out of nowhere (he didn't do art) , if I left the group he would leave too, I would go to conventions with my cousin and he would be there (I knew how he looked because he did sent me pics), I tried to pass it as a weird coincidence but he didn't even like anime or anything about the conventions so it was really weird. This went for a good couple of years and I somehow managed to avoid a physical encounter every time, I'm guessing he could keep track on me because I was and still are very active on my city's art community, I never post about personal life or my face but the times I did say something like "Going to X place to help!" he would be there. Fast forward some years and I'm attending to an art related class, one weird dude is my classmate and I say he's weird because he would ship me with my friend who was also in the class, would ask very nsfw questions to us like we were a couple (we were both minors and he was 23) so I tried to keep distance. One day the Mc Donald guy comes to the building, I obviously fast walked to the other side of the building but apparently he was looking for the other dude and of course, they were friends. It seemed that the weird dude would talk about me and my friend with the Donald guy, who clearly knew who I was and was still trying to get to me. The classes always ended quite late and I had to wait for my mom to pick me up, I'm very calm and quite strong so I didn't fear being robbed because I already been in that situation and know how to deal with it, but the knowledge of the Donald guy knowing where I was 3 days of the week late at night gave me chills. I know I don't describe him like a dangerous guy but he has been keeping an eye on me since 2016, I was still a kid and I swear to sky daddy I saw him walking on the street one night my mom was late (she was always late but this time was at least 1 hour late) and I ran into a sandwich store that was in the opposite direction because it looked like he was approaching me. I finished the classes and worked there for a little project, no more than a few days but guess what, he was there! He didn’t enter the building but I could see him walking outside, thankfully those days my boss let me stay inside until my mom arrived so I felt more calm. I see him around the internet from time to time and I make sure to block him, at least I’m sure he doesn’t know where I live because I moved recently so that’s a little comforting. So yeah there’s a weird Christian dude obsessed with Ronald mc Donald who has been keeping an eye on me for at least 5 years now.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/k444ff/creepy_christian_ronald_mc_donald_stalker/

LetsNotMeet

freckled_rat

Neighbors From Hell

Spoiler alert, I’m a lesbian. I thought this was a pretty well known fact, but I guess no one had thought to tell my old neighbors. Actually, they just presumed my girlfriend was my roommate, until they caught us kissing through the kitchen window. I remember that day, and how it was pretty normal. My neighbors seemed friendly — a little too perfect white family, but still, friendly. The mother and I had both had a garden and we’d spend some time talking about how our plants were going. She always had a weird laugh, like a donkey trying to be feminine, but I ignored it. The laugh wasn’t the weirdest part. It wasn’t even five minutes after the kiss her husband was at our door. He was a bigger man, beefy, with a balding head of dark hair and thick eyebrows that seemed to move on their own accord. My girlfriend once said he looked like a Harry Potter character, I agreed. He started off with shouting at us. It was rather bizarre, since his shouting got so loud I had seen the across-the-street neighbor peek her head out to see what was wrong. It was mainly the generic stuff — God’s will, you’re going to Hell, how dare you talk to my children (their sons were eighteen and twenty-one, I thought that was one strange). My girlfriend, always the negotiator, managed to talk him down and back to his home. We went to bed silent that night, like speaking would remind us of what had just happened. I said we oughta move, the neighbors hate us. She said it didn’t matter, there would always be rude neighbors. I wish we would have moved. The series of events between that day and five months later, where we finally found refuge in my brother’s house was God awful. It started with my garden getting ripped out. My flower stems snapped and their roots showing. My carrots, which I was so proud of, upturned and smushed beneath a boot. Someone had taken a shovel and dug up clumps of dirt, just to make sure nothing else could grow. I’m not ashamed to admit I cried. When my girlfriend left for work an hour later, the d slur was carved over and over into the paint of our car. It covered nearly every inch of the left side door, and a few scattered across the right. Our headlights were smashed, they had let the air out of our tires. She called in sick. One night, at nearly four in the mourning, their oldest son stood at our door and rang the doorbell for fifteen minutes straight. He only stopped when my girlfriend opened the upstairs window and said she would call the police. He also urinated on our porch furniture. Every morning, I would take our dog out for a mile-long walk. He’s a golden retriever, so he needed the exercise. It didn’t take long for the youngest to follow after us, shouting obscenities and saying he would “fuck the gay” right out me. It got so bad my neighbor on my other side, a twenty-something gym nut, had to start walking with me. One of them taped a note on our door saying they would burn the house down, burn us for our sins. The police said there was no evidence for who it was. We stopped going to the police. Their sons filled water balloon up with urine and threw it at my house. Our dog had an outside bowl of water, and we found that it, too, had been urinated in. Another time it was rat poison, though that seemed like too big of an accusation, so we told ourselves we were wrong. I was continuously calling family members during this time — my parents thought the idea was crazy, it had to be some misunderstanding! Why, that sounds like it came straight from a movie, it couldn’t be that bad. It was the rat poison that did it for us. Even though we told ourselves it was fake, the anxiety of one of us dying had gotten too much. I called my brother in tears and he was there to help us pack by the next day. He also chewed the Neighbors from Hell out, which was the perfect way for it to end. (This is an expert taken from a series of CNF essays I wrote for a college class. Though it is completely true, it was written to be read as a story, and not as a retelling of an event. Just thought I’d make that clear!)

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/k1vi9l/neighbors_from_hell/

LetsNotMeet

riptde

LNM 9th Anniversary Banner Contest Winner is u/flowersonthemoon666!

Big congratulations to u/flowersonthemoon666 for winning the banner contest! You can check out their submission [here](https://imgur.com/gallery/omupztk) as well as on our new desktop and mobile banners. Thank you so much for your submissions, and happy 9th anniversary y'all! \-The LNM mods

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/k0a33b/lnm_9th_anniversary_banner_contest_winner_is/

LetsNotMeet

melonbroke

I was nearly kidnapped near my flat

Just to give some context, I'm currently in the UK and the town where I live is known for its drug scene, but it doesn't have a violent crime problem to speak of. I think that's why I found what happened so shocking, because I lived in London before and, while some messed up stuff did happen to me there, it was nowhere near on the level of what happened to me earlier this year.   My partner and I live together in our flat, which is in a relatively busy residential area. I work from home, however, and he's out of the flat quite a lot, so I guess it might look to an outside observer like I live alone. Our flat complex was once an old factory and we have these HUGE industrial windows, so people walking on the street have a pretty clear view of our dining room, which is where I work during the day.   It all started in July of this year. I'm ashamed to say that I can be a major rubber-necker and a lot of drama occurs on the road outside of our flat, so I look out of the windows often during my work day for some light entertainment. The best was a 2-hour break-up I got to watch unfold in the car just below our window, but that's beside the point. One day, I got up to make myself a cup of tea, looked out of the kitchen window, and saw this guy just staring at me. I was struck by how intense it was and how he didn't look away, even when it was obvious that I was looking back at him. I felt creeped out by it, but I tried not to let it bother me. We have a lot of drug addicts and other weird characters that hang out around here, so it didn't seem like such a big deal. I went back to work and, by the time I'd sat down at the table, he was gone.   About a week later, my partner had gone to visit his dad for the weekend, so I was excited to hunker down and catch up on some of my favourite shows alone. After about 30 minutes, the buzzer to the flat went. The buzzer is **so loud** and it scared the heck out of me. I was lucky my popcorn didn't go flying out of my hands. Now our flat complex has this big porch where teenagers and addicts love to hang out, because it provides shelter from the rain and about 4 people can sit down inside of it. Sometimes people lean up on the buzzers by accident when they're hanging out in the porch, so I assumed that was what happened. After a few seconds, however, the buzzer went again, and again, and again. Someone was pressing it in this rhythmic pattern. It's something I know my partner does when he's forgotten his keys and it's kind of our code for me to let him in, which is why I found it so disconcerting. At first, I was worried he might have missed the bus to his dad's house and had decided to come back to the flat. I was *nearly* about to buzz him straight in when I thought it would be a good idea to pick up the phone first and check who it was. As soon I as picked up the phone, the person standing near the intercom must have heard, because they said "Hello?" It was definitely not my partner. I asked who it was and why they were buzzing the flat so late at night, but all they said was "Can you let me in?" I asked them why they wanted to come in and they said "You invited me, remember?" While they were talking, they kept kind of laughing under their breath, and the whole exchange put me on edge. I told them I had no idea who they were and just hung up. I was half-expecting them to start pressing the buzzer again, but they didn't. After a few minutes, I crept out of the flat to have a look at who was in the porch, but they were long gone.   My partner has to get up early for work, whereas I'm more of a night owl. Most nights, I'm up until around 2am or 3am working on my laptop while he's asleep. A few nights after the intercom incident, I was on my laptop watching YouTube videos and I realised that we'd forgotten to take the trash out. This happens **a lot** and it's not uncommon for me to take the trash out at around 1am/2am. At least, it wasn't until all this happened. I put my slippers on, grabbed the bag of trash, and took it out to the curb outside the flat's main entrance. When I looked across the street, there was this guy standing on the opposite street corner. He was watching me, and his eyes followed me all the way from the front door to the curb. I noticed he was smoking, so I assumed he lived in one of the houses across the street. I remember even thinking "Wouldn't it be creepy if he tried to come over here?" As I put the trash bag down, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw him walking in a straight line across the road towards me, with his eyes fixed on me the entire time. I don't know how to describe it, but the look on his face filled me with this instinctive sense of dread. It felt like someone had just turned my stomach inside out. I pulled my keys out of my hoody pocket, turned around, and **ran** to the front door. I've never felt that kind of fear before and it was like my body was compelling me to get as far away from this man as possible. I got into the building, slammed the door behind me, and rushed to my flat without looking back. I didn't want to know whether he'd followed me or not. I told my partner about the whole thing the next day and how shook up I was. We agreed that we'd be more proactive with the trash, and I've never taken it out late at night again.   Fast forward to the beginning of August, about two weeks after the trash incident, and I'd pretty much forgotten about all of it. I was still too scared to go out late at night on the road, but nothing weird had happened since then. I went to bed at about 2am, but I felt restless for some reason and struggled to get to sleep. By about 3am, I was contemplating whether or not to give up and go do something else, when I heard this scream. The sound cut right through me. There was something visceral about the terror in that scream. I knew it was bad, because my partner went from stone-cold asleep to being up in a shot. He asked me what it was, and I said I didn't know. I went to the window straight away and looked out. Down one of the side roads near our flat, I could see headlights, but couldn't get a clear view of the car. The screaming continued in bursts and, after a while, I could make out words. It was a women and she was saying "get out, get out" over and over again. I'm used to hearing all kinds of domestic arguments take place on the road outside of our flat, particularly since we're near to the University and several popular bars, but this was different. There was this raw fear in her voice that made the hairs on my arms stand up. I turned to my partner and said I **had** to call the police.   When they picked up and I explained what was happening, they seemed disinterested at first, but the operator's tone changed when I told them where it was. I think they must have been getting calls from all around the area about it. It was sometime during this phone call that I heard a screech of tires and the screaming stopped. The operator asked me to go to the window and describe to them what was happening. When I looked down, there was this black car sat on the road. One of the neighbours from across the road was speaking to the two guys in the car. I had to twist to get a good look at them, but one of the guys in the car looked uncannily like the guy who had been watching me when I was putting out the trash that time. At first, the conversation seemed congenial, but it took a turn when the neighbour asked them some sort of question that I couldn't hear clearly and they sped off down the road.   Within no less than 10 minutes, three police cars arrived and had blocked off the roads leading to our flat (our residential area is on a grid system). They were knocking on doors and asking to speak to all of our neighbours. I told my partner that we should go out and speak to them, since we saw a lot of what happened and my partner had had the foresight to write down the license plate of the black car.   When we went out, there were these two girls talking to one of the police officers. They were both shaking, and one of them looked as though she had been crying. I decided to stand nearby and wait for the girls to finish before speaking with the officer myself. What they said made my blood run cold.   They were from one of the houses that looked out directly onto the road where I had seen the headlights, so they had a clear view of what had happened. Like us, they had been alerted by the screaming and gone straight to the window. From what they could gather, the black car had cut off a small red car on the road (like pulled right in front of it) and that's what had caused the girl driving the red car to scream the first time. They thought it might have been some kind of misunderstanding, but then they watched as one of the guys from the black car got out, walked to the red car, and **jumped in** through the window. That's the point when the girl must have been screaming "get out, get out." There had been a struggle and the girls watching said they assumed the guy was just trying to steal the car, but then he forced the driver into the back seat and that's when he drove off. The two girls were both hysterical by this point and you could tell they felt guilty for not intervening. I could feel that same guilt seeping in to my thoughts as well. After the guy had driven off in the red car, the two men in the black car had gone the opposite way and turned the corner onto our road, but had been stopped by another neighbour. Although this neighbour had been alerted by the screaming, he hadn't actually witnessed what happened, so he had stopped the black car to ask the guys what was going on without knowing they were involved. That was the exchange we saw. When the guys started acting suspicious, he asked them if they would wait for the police to arrive, and that's the point when they drove off.   It wasn't until we got back to the flat that I started to put two and two together. I have a small red car, just like the one that the girls had described, and I normally come back at night on that day of the week, since it's the day I go to visit my parents. I had only come back early on this particular occasion because I needed to let a plumber in to do some work on the flat. What if they had been waiting for me, and they had gotten the wrong car?   Over the next few days, I contacted the police several times and checked the local news, but I never heard anything about the girl who was kidnapped. I still have no idea what happened to her. All I know is that they found her car abandoned somewhere not far from where she was taken, but she wasn't in it. It still gives me chills just thinking about it.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jz8w92/i_was_nearly_kidnapped_near_my_flat/

LetsNotMeet

helpcreepylandlady

Stalker in College

Hi everyone, I want to start off by saying that I posted this story a while ago but it was on a different account (one I've since deleted) and a lot has happened with this person since the first time I told the story on here. I tried to find the post but couldn't, so I'm posting it again because I am currently scared and angry over this situation. Anyway, let's get started. When I was a freshman in college in October of 2018, a guy I'll call Ron Jones stalked me. I met Ron through one of our mutual friends, Kris, because they were in a school club together. When I met Ron I thought he was kind of strange, but he was nice and seemed interesting. He claimed to be Slavic and had an accent to back that up. I just thought that he might seem weird because of cultural differences. I go to school in a rural, Southern area, and I figured the culture shock between here and wherever he was originally from was a lot to handle. Anyway, we exchanged numbers and texted infrequently for a couple of weeks. On October 3, 2018, a friend of mine and I went to a drag show on our campus. We weren't out super late, but it was dark when the show ended and we began walking back to our dorm. I'd been texting Ron a bit during the night because he was unable to get a ticket to the drag show and he wanted to know how it was. At some point in the conversation, I mentioned that I wanted to grab some orange juice on the way back to my dorm. Don't know why I mentioned that to him, I think I was just making conversation. My friend and I stopped in the convenience store near our building so I could get said orange juice, and Ron was already there. He said something about buying the juice for me, and I thanked him but declined. He got kind of mad and started to walk away, which was odd to me, but I let it go. My friend and I walked out of the store and saw that he was standing outside. Our dorm was actually right across from the building the convenience store was in, so he saw us enter the building. My friend and I parted ways and I walked up to my room, which was on the second floor of the building facing the convenience store. I kick myself for doing this now, but I went to my window, opened it, and yelled down to Ron when I saw that he was still standing there. I apologized for declining his offer to buy the juice for me because I felt like I had been rude (guilty conscience, I guess). He stood below my window started talking to me about random stuff, and at one point he said something that was... odd. He was like, "Can I flirt with you? I enjoy doing that," and I just laughed and said, "Uh, okay," because I had no clue how to respond to that and I just figured he was a flirtatious person. Stupid, I know. But that's not the dumbest thing I did: I ended up going outside to sit and talk to Ron for a little bit because I felt bad for being "rude" earlier (as if declining someone's offer to buy you something is rude... geez). While we were outside he didn't say anything of note, and he was acting pretty normal. It got cold out so he asked if we could go inside to talk, and I said sure. At this point in the year I'd had several guy friends over to my room just to do work and chat, so I didn't see an issue with it. And things started out normally. But they quickly got scary. Out of nowhere, Ron basically turned into a different person when we were alone in my room. He stopped blinking, he held eye contact super intensely, and he was laughing in this really low, creepy way. On top of that, his Slavic accent disappeared. That's when he told me he had lied about being Slavic, and that he's native to the state our college is in. He got increasingly more creepy, and there was nothing I could do about it because I had a single room my freshman year. At one point he grabbed me in a hug and wouldn't let go of me until I said "Let go of me, right now" three times or so. He told me he'd done a lot of bad things and that if I wanted to put him in jail he could give me the names of people who have evidence against him. He said he hates "Jews and black people" and everyone until they give him a reason not to hate them. He said a lot of weird, nearly sexual stuff to me as well. Like, he went on and on about how showering alone isn't fun and that it's better with another person and that he'd be willing to do that if I wanted to (keep in mind, this guy had a girlfriend and he acknowledged that). He even said he'd go after me if he weren't dating someone, which freaked me out. He asked if he could sleep in my room and I said no, and I used that to tell him that I was ready for bed and that he needed to leave. As he left, he said, "Do you want to know how unsecure the locks on your door really are?" He also pulled a few ID's out of his wallet, all with different names. I closed the door on him and looked through the peephole. He stood there, looking at the door, for an uncomfortably long time before leaving. After that he called me multiple times throughout the month, always at weird times. He started appearing everywhere I was around campus. The friend who had introduced us, Kris, actually started walking everywhere with me because he noticed Ron following me around and lurking around corners when I couldn't see him. Apparently he was around me a lot more than I realized because Kris began carrying a knife whenever we went places. Ron was everywhere, and he would come up to me and put his arm over me and whisper stuff like, "We need to talk," whenever he saw me. For a while he would lurk outside my dorm, but that stopped all of a sudden one day. I later found out that Kris had told my RA about Ron, and that he had been banned from my building. I hadn't done that myself because I thought I was overreacting... I wasn't. I blocked him on my phone and he hasn't contacted me since. He did apologize to me one day on campus last semester when we ran into each other, and I was actually willing to accept it and move on... Until recently. So, here I am two years later, and everything that happened with Ron has come back up again. I found out recently that he has a history of stalking women. Like, an extensive history going back at least five years. I met another victim of his who he stalked before coming to my university; she had gone to community college for a bit, and he stalked her while he was also a student there. He followed her to our university after apparently being suspended from the school after three separate stalking incidents were linked to him. The victim I met told me something worrying: Ron is currently an RA on our campus, and she was one of his residents. When she told the residential office that Ron had stalked her in the past, they told her all they could do was have her move dorms, which she did. They then said they couldn't do anything to discipline him because the stalking didn't occur at our university. She and I both reported our experiences with him to the residential office, who then tipped off the Campus Police, who then spoke to the Dean of Students. The thing is, though, when I gave his name to the residential office they had NO IDEA who I was talking about. He'd given me a fake first and last name, and I had to do a lot of searching to find out his real name. I knew he was sketchy when I saw the four separate ID's in his wallet, but I didn't ever think he'd given me a fake name when I met him. After talking to residential living, I talked to the police. When I talked to the police they didn't seem to care about what I had to say... Actually, the officer I spoke to talked over me while I was explaining the times he followed me and said that he'd heard all he needed to hear. I spoke to the Dean of Students, who asked me some clarifying questions about the police report he'd received... The police had mixed up several details of my story with the stories of other victims. Apparently more people than just myself and the girl I met have come forward with information about this person. There are even reports that he got physical with two separate people before coming to this university. Last week I saw him on campus. He's still an RA, even though multiple women have spoken to higher-ups about his behavior. If I hear from him, I'm issuing a no contact order to ensure that he stays away from me. Right now, though, that feels like too much of a hassle because we're all going home for a two-month break due to COVID education anyway. That's kind of it. It's anticlimactic and there's no sense of justice in all of this, but hopefully this story teaches you all to stay on your toes and not to think you're overreacting when someone is being sketchy. Stay safe out there, guys.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jyo3ed/stalker_in_college/

LetsNotMeet

mothmans-cousin

To My Former Cult Members, Let's Never Meet Again

In the fall of 2015, I began college in a very small town in the middle of nowhere. It's population as of 2019 is 55,489. This town was in the middle of the midwestern state I lived in, in the middle of the great plains. The town was pretty much only existent because of the college. It was a state college, which has about 20,000 students a year. As you could imagine, the college brought in a plethora of faculty, business, and really put the town on the map.  I personally stuck out like a sore thumb. You see, even though I lived in the bible belt, I had been wiccan since I was 15 - I never identified with Jesus and God when I grew old enough to dissect the Christian faith.  A big aspect about my personality is that I am *very* accepting. I mention this because it, ultimately, led to some chaos later on. I'm the class-clown mom friend type, I'm sure you know the type. Goofy and caring, pretty much ride or die.  So I was in the middle of nowhere, at the beginning of my college career, and I was surrounded by strangers who were just as nervous and awkward as I was. Due to being in the middle of the bible belt, my friends \~really\~ loved my tarot card, medium, future seeing persona. Quickly, while making new friends, I ran into a few folks who wanted to learn how to read tarot. We lived in the same dorm community, they were nice, and I **love** teaching.  So that's how I ended up getting into cahoots with Alex, Davis, April, Sam, Rosie, Kaity, and Sky. They were friends from the year prior, so I was sort of folded into the friend-group as the newest shiniest object. After mentioning that I read tarot, the group was over the moon. One afternoon, in the basement of our domoritory, I had a tarot reading session for the group. It was a lazy fall day, mid-November. Surrounded by soda cans, kitkats, and our school work, I began to read each and every group members' cards.  With reading, you start to peek into a persons' soul. Each card gives you a sliver of personhood. I quite regularly have had to console people for the truth that lies within the reading. I often have had to play the role of the therapist, after the cards read people for filth. So it was unsurprising to me when the group sat in shock and curiosity, goosebumps prickling their arms. It was a normal response. Hours flew by, I did general readings, question based readings, love life readings, you name it. As the time rolled on, more of my talent slipped out. Soon I was reading palms, giving psychic advice, talking about my wiccan journey. I believe that what you take from the earth, you should give back. It is inherent to my belief system to do everything with love - to never mean any ill will.  Alex asked me if I could teach them about my belief systems. Then Kaity, then Davis. Before I knew it, everyone in the group had asked for an impromptu teaching.  Don't get this wrong, I loved teaching. But moreso, I craved this positive attention - my childhood was quite awful, I was very abused. I just wanted people who cared about me. These people were some of the first to really seem to care about me - who were really interested in what I had to say. So, with rose colored glasses, I began a fun little info sesh with my brand new friends.  I didn't see the warning signs. What started out as little meetings in the study rooms turned into hour long lectures where the group hung to every word I said. As we got closer, more of my horrific past was uncovered. I shared tales of my trauma, of all the times I should have died... of the beatings... of how my mom tried to murder me. I thought I had found my tribe, I was really excited and pleased to be around folks. I didn't start to see the warning signs until it was too late... Things went smoothly for a while, a routine of teaching the group, hanging out, having dinner, talking about normal things - like school and what was going on in the dormitory communities. Things felt pretty normal! I really liked it. One of the group members, Davis, was transitioning female to male, and he struggled a lot with his identity. He was raised in a pretty strict household, so his transition wasn't taken very well by his family. He also struggled with BPD, which made people in the group uncomfortable, I think because they didn't understand it. Keep in mind, mental health at the time wasn't really something that people were open about as it was the bible belt. So, Davis would occasionally act erratic - start fights, get worked up, cry randomly, etc. I am sure part of this was due to transitioning - I can't imagine how emotional and hard it would be to go through that. What really set things off was when Davis started doubting if he should fully transition or not. Davis had already been on testosterone for quite some time, was male presenting, but did not have top surgery yet. One day, right before spring break, Davis had worn a dress, makeup, and heels around campus. At the time I thought it was kind of strange, but I figured it was Davis' life, so it didn't matter to me. The rest of the group, however, started to obsess over this. It was very out of character, but, the group thought there was more to it. When Davis left for class, adorned in his dress and heels, Alex started speculating. There was a long, weird history between Alex, Davis, and Sky - one where Davis was sort of relationship-like flirting with both Alex and Sky, creating some animosity. Alex and Sky were best friends, but... Davis had sort of wiggled his way into both of their hearts.  Alex wasn't one to really discuss their feelings, so they pretended this love triangle didn't affect them, but Alex had become bitter. After Davis had walked out, Sky in tow, Alex began their speculation.  "What's wrong with him? Why is he acting like that? It's like I hardly know him."  Kaity, one for gossip, joined in.  "It honestly is like Davis is a completely different person. I don't know who this is, but I hate him. He's taking advantage of Sky."  The rest of the conversation began to snowball. It was a frustrating situation for those who had been in the friend group for a long time, I was pretty much indifferent - I didn't know what was going on and honestly, I thought that people were kind of making a fuss out of nothing. If you're uncomfortable with what's happening, then talk it out. I digress. I had been working on a term paper, not really minding too much about the conversation until April asked me: "do you think he could be messing around with some bad magic?" I shrugged. Davis had asked about love spells and other stuff that I don't really mess with - he was really into the idea that he could put a spell on someone and make them fall in love with him. I had told him that taking away free will is something you should never mess with. The universe doesn't do kindly to those who harm, obstruct, or take free will away from someone. April had been there when Davis asked. When Alex looked questioningly at her, April spilled the beans. Something in Alex's face contorted, as if you could see their heartbreak turn into pure rage. Alex excused themselves and that was that. I remember being a little stressed about the situation, I hated conflict back then.  I was spending spring break at Rosie's house. Her and Sam lived in the same town - Alex and Kaity would be there too. When I agreed to spend the break with them, it was before drama had started - but by the time we got to spring break, it was too late to change my plans. The whole break was spent listening to the conspiracy grow. The four of them had begun to elaborate on this "bad magic" idea. Rosie thought maybe Davis was possessed. I told them that I didn't think it was likely. I had a feeling things were starting to go awry, things felt weird. I had never been in the presence of a group of people who just... accused another of being possessed? Things were weird. When I shot down the possession idea, they mentioned the time Davis growled the week prior - we were playing a game online when Davis growled as a response. I had jokingly said he sounded like a demon. I still told them that it was nothing, but they would not let up. Realizing I was in trouble, I came up with a quick solution. I told them we could do some protection spells, so if anything was going awry... we would be ok. That seemed to appease them well enough. Luckily, they left the topic alone until we were heading back to campus.  "We need to do an exorcism on Davis" Rosie said, a wild look in her eyes.  Rosie had dabbled in paganism before she had met me, so she already had a solid set of beliefs and theories. The issue here, however, was that Rosie and Sam thought they could use their paganism as a tool to control those around them. I tried to correct this thought process, as it was against my belief system, which they seemed really receptive to... until they felt threatened. Davis had sent a text message to Rosie about some drama with Alex and Sky, sending Rosie into a spiral. Before I knew it, the narrative shifted into "Davis is possessed by the demon Lilith." I didn't know what to do. I told them that he wasn't. I said it didn't make sense. I was too late. I didn't know. I figured that if I got back to campus, took some time away from them, everyone would calm down.  So that's what I did. I tried to do as much damage control as I could on the rest of the ride, but then when I got back to the dorm, I locked myself away in my room. When asked, I just said I was behind on work from spring break. Things were quiet and I felt safe. I figured it was temporary insanity or something.  I was sat downstairs talking to April a few days after I had locked myself away. We were just chit chatting about what she had done over the break when I saw Rosie and Kaity rush past the sitting room. They were frantic. They waved at us when they ran past, but didn't say anything. A bit later, Sky ran in the same direction, crying. When he saw us, he rushed in.  "Davis said he's a demon and needed to be exorcised"  I jumped to my feet and started running toward his dorm.  Sam and Alex stood in the hallway. Their faces hardened when they saw me, Sky, and April walking up.  "you're not allowed in there, Davis is a danger to you." Sam said. "He admitted he was possessed."  "He's not possessed! Let me in there!"  We bickered for a while, until I said that if they were going to do an exorcism, they needed me in there.  Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.  Davis was laid on the bed, tied to the bed frame. He was crying. Rosie and Kaity were inside, setting things around the bed. Rosie held a tattered, old book in her hand. There was sage burning on a plate.  Kaity yelled something, but I couldn't focus. I just kept thinking that these people were fucking crazy. All I could see was Davis, crying on the bed.  "I'm so sorry, I didn't know I was possessed. I didn't know I was going to hurt you." Davis wailed, shaking. "We're going to get the demon out. You're going to be okay."  I just kept saying that he wasn't possessed, but nobody was listening to me. That's when I saw the knife.  It was bronze in color, with something dark crusted on it. It sat in a bowl from the dining hall. sat in a mix of what looked like salt and what looked like blood.  In shock, I looked over to Rosie, spotting a bloody gauze on her arm. It was like my world stopped. At this point, I had realized these people were crazy... I didn't think they were killer crazy. I had seen enough scary movies that I could only imagine what was going to happen. I grabbed the knife and cut through the cloth that tied Davis down, grabbed his wrist and bolted from the room. I called Davis' mom and told her to come get him. We went to my dorm until she got there, with me just trying to talk some sense into him. Davis went home shortly after. Rosie, Kaity, Sam, and Alex were blowing up my phone. April had come with me when I ran out with Davis. When he had gone home, she started to talk about how I needed to be careful, because if Hillary Clinton were elected president, because I was special. My mother had told me that she had to kill me, or else the government would get me. That I was special. April knew this, apparently she believed it too. I just nodded, telling her I needed to go to sleep.  After she left, I started filing paperwork to transfer schools. I moved 2 hours away, blocking everyone in groups' phone numbers. I couldn't believe everything that had happened, but looking back I started to see that the signs were there all along. The passing "you're like a witchy jesus" or blind faith in everything I said. The most memorable moment was when I told them that the sky was actually green. I was just joking around, being a sarcastic asshole, but April and Alex just nodded. When I said I was joking, April defended them, saying "well technically the sky just reflects the earth, so it kind of is green." Hindsight is 2020. I accidentally started a cult, creating a small hellhole where everyone blindly believed everything I said, and thought I was the modern day jesus.  SO, to my former cult members, let's never meet again. Also, please get help. 

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jyfd5w/to_my_former_cult_members_lets_never_meet_again/

LetsNotMeet

bea_the_flea

Weird guy that wanted to take me to Jamaica, let's never see each other.

This happened a long time ago, when I was about 4-5 (I'm 15 now). Looking back at the situation, I really think I should have seen the red flags about this guy, but since I was really young and stupid, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. I thought he was just a kind guy. The whole thing happened in the mall, in plain sight in fronts of hundreds of people. I had gone with my mother shopping, girls' day out, you get the gist. At some point, I get lost in the mall. Typical, everyone has a story like that, right? So far no red flags at all. I remember seeing a guy with a VERY Southeastern accent. He was dressed like a junkie, but in my 5 year old mind I thought he looked fine. So, since I was a lost 5 year old girl who didn't know any better, I walked up to him and asked him for directions, if he had seen my mommy, etc. He ignored my questions and when he saw me, his eyes lit up. He immediately started showering me with compliments, some of them were even innapropriate to say to a 5 year old kid. He gave me a pink and black bracelet, and told me how well it looked on me. Of course, I was oblivious to the situation, and ignoring all the red flags. So, at some point he offers to take me to his fake private jet and fly me to an exotic island to relax and play with the dolphins, basically made it sound like a child's paradise. All I had to do was get in his car. Of course, since it sounded like a dream come true, I trusted him and almost went in his car with this creep. I kid you not, at the EXACT moment I was about to leave the mall, some dude with a uniform stopped him dead in his tracks, and asked him where he was going with a 5 year old girl (you could easily tell we weren't related, he had a dark skin tone and I was very pale, and add that he was dressed like a junkie, it probably set off an alarm in the uniform guy's head). The guy responded with his raspy Southeastern accent "this is just my daughter's kid, I'm taking her home." We were clearly not related, and so the uniform guy asked me where was my mom. I told him she was still in the mall, from that point on there was some arguing between the two men. I didn't get the most of it, but I ended up with the well dressed guy, and the junkie cursed him out. We went to the lobby of the mall and found my mom there, telling the worker behind the desk my description. She had clearly picked up by this point that I was gone. It turned out that the guy in the uniform was a security guard at the mall, and had picked up on how wrong the situation was. When my mom saw me with this guy, she picked me up and hugged me. This story is in fact very old, but I recently got reminded of it because one of my friends told me that they were planning on going to Jamaica for vacation, and the memories just came flooding back. So, security guard who noticed how wrong the situation was, thank you. To the creep that almost kidnapped me, let's never cross paths again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jx06cw/weird_guy_that_wanted_to_take_me_to_jamaica_lets/

LetsNotMeet

ImaBeerCow

New in Town Nightmare

This story takes place around 2009. I had just moved to South Carolina from the PNW region. A little bit of a backstory— I had just turned 21, was working a full time job in the medical field, and had absolutely no friends, since I was new to the area. One night I got bored. I decided I was going to “put myself out there”. I drove from my tiny town to Columbia, SC. It’s about a 40 minute drive, but I knew that’s where all the good clubs/bars were. I was specifically looking for gay-friendly spots. I found myself downtown looking for a club that was no longer there (though, the internet said it was). Disappointed, I talked with this lady outside a club across the street. She told me about a chill, laid back bar with karaoke in West Columbia. Sounds great I thought. She gave me directions and I headed that way. I passed by a gas station on my way to buy a soda and ask the lady if she knew whether or not I was in the right area. It appears I was. I drove about 5 or 6 blocks until I made it there. Now, I’m not the life of the party and somewhat introverted and was quite nervous my whole time there. I talked with a couple for a bit that was from the area. I ordered a margarita and smoked my cigarettes watching a Katy Perry drag show. This man walks in. About 5’9, roughly 200 lbs, dark skin, goatee, wearing a white hoodie, jeans and a red hat. He sits next to me and winks. He orders his drinks then asked me for a cigarette. Sure, I said. I asked him how he was doing and if he was from around the area. His answers were short and I’m feeling kind of awkward at this point, so I just take it as “he’s not too interested”. I turn my stool and continue watching the drag show. This is when the vibe completely changes. I feel his warm breath in my ear whispering “meet me out back by my car”. With that, he gets up and leaves. Now, I’m not very sexually experienced at that point in my life and certainly not going to blow some stranger in his car in the parking lot. He didn’t even have much to say in the first place. I stayed for about 20 more minutes. It seemed like there wasn’t much of anyone else there my age and I didn’t seem to be making headway as everyone there seemed to be with someone and I was alone. I figured that was about as much as a night out as I was having. As I’m leaving the bar and entering my car, I see headlights flash from behind me. A figure arose from the car. It’s that guy! He throws his arms up. He starts running toward me. I’m not fucking around. I put my 1992 corolla in drive and sped it on out of there. I remember all the lights were green which I thought was great, seeing as I was able to get away from that area fast. Oh no, he’s right behind me. He continues to follow me. I come up upon that gas station I was at earlier in the night. I see a cop car parked outside of it. So I pulled in and parked. Of course, dude at the bar did too. He parked right beside me. I got out and went inside to tell that police officer he followed me from the bar and I was feeling uneasy from it. He went outside and found the guy start to pull out of the parking spot. He waived him down. As a police backup car pulls in to the gas station, they walk over to get a statement. Turns out, the guy had an expired license and a warrant out for his arrest. When they frisked him, he had a hunting knife on him. I remember the disturbing look he gave me as they cuffed him. I couldn’t believe it. I left and I was completely lost, again. This time I’m distraught, so it I took me forever to get home. Had I got in the car with him, who knows what could have happened. Guy at the bar, let’s not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jw9c5i/new_in_town_nightmare/

LetsNotMeet

bcloud9

Creepy Ice Cream Shop Customer

In high school I had the glamorous job of scooping ice cream at a local and well-known chain. I had worked there for about three years but this story occurred at the beginning of my senior year. It was possibly a Monday or Tuesday and on weeknight closing shifts there were only two people on duty: a manager and server. I was a server and my manager (who was also a girl but in her early 20's who I'll call Jen) was in the back counting the money from our shift while I was at the front of the store starting to clean in order to close soon. It was about a half hour till closing time when I noticed a really nice car pull up just in front of the store. I remember being impressed and went back to cleaning. The customer came in about 15 minutes later. He was a white man in his early 30s with brown hair and a nice smile. He sat at a table and pulled out a portfolio with papers and began writing on them. At that point I was a little irritated that he had chosen an ice cream store at 8:30pm on a Monday night to get some work done when there was a Starbucks literally next door. I continued to clean and a few minutes later he approached the counter seemingly ready to order. His body language was immediately off-putting as he leaned on the case of ice cream, getting as close to me as he could without actually climbing over the case. I got a weird feeling right away and suddenly I was very aware that I was a 5"3, 105 pound 17 year old girl alone with this man. My manager Jen was in the back office and unaware that a customer had come inside. I politely asked what I could get for him. I don't remember his exact order but it was something odd and uncommon; like a weird mixture of flavors and toppings. I turned around to make his order and felt his eyes staring into my back. I turned around slightly to get an idea of where he was standing and there he was, still leaning over the case with his forearms on top and smiling at me. He tried making small talk about ice cream, if the store was usually not busy at that point, even calling me pretty. I quickly made his weird order so my back wouldn't be turned to him and so he could hurry up and leave. I handed him his order and rung it up at the register. His total was probably between $5-$6 yet he tried to hand me a $20 bill as a tip. I told him I couldn't take that much money so instead he smiled at me and stuffed it into the tip jar on the counter. I thanked him and glanced at the kitchen where Jen was standing in the doorway. She was out of the customer's view but waved me over to come to the back. I walked away from the customer who sat back at his table with his papers. Before I could tell Jen that I was getting a weird vibe from the man, she told me she didn't feel right about him and was going to call another manager, Ryan, who lived about five minutes away. Ryan was a 6-foot tall college student so we’d feel a little more protected with him in the store. I told Jen to do that just in case and that I would try to get the customer to leave since we were a few minutes away from closing. Within those few moments Ryan came in the front door and looked the customer up, then down and went in the back to talk to Jen. At that point I think the customer put two and two together and realized that Ryan was there to keep an eye on him. With Jen and Ryan in the back watching me, the customer got up and collected his papers. He walked over to the case of ice cream and said, "Margaret?" I jumped and looked at him, wondering how the hell he knew my name. He sat a small piece of paper on top of the case, gave me one more smile and left. As soon as he walked out, Ryan locked the front door and looked at the piece of paper the customer left. Scribbled in pencil was the man's contact info - his name, cell phone number, email address, even Twitter username. We ended up calling the police who took our stories, but they said the man didn't do anything illegal but if he ever came back to call them again in case he tried something. The entire encounter was so bizarre - from his super fancy car, working on papers in an ice cream store late on a weeknight, the way he stared at me, his strange order, tipping me $20... but the most unsettling part is how he knew my name. I've had friends who have heard this story tell me that I must have had my nametag on. In fact, I regularly got in trouble for not wearing my name tag and that night was no exception. And even if I was wearing my nametag, it had my nickname on it, not my full name which somehow he knew. Not to mention the fact that I'd never seen him before in my life so he wouldn't have known me another way. My managers speculated that maybe he was a weird sugar daddy or possibly even a sex trafficker trying to scope me out. Ultimately the entire situation felt very off and I've never felt my instincts kick in like that and haven't since. I kept myself on high alert until I moved away to college. I'm 24 years old now and haven't seen him since. But every now and then I think about that man and wonder what his true intentions were. So creepy ice cream shop customer, let's never meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jvz3is/creepy_ice_cream_shop_customer/

LetsNotMeet

[deleted]

Getting kidnapped in a foreign country

This story happened around 4 years ago , back then I was 18 and had just graduated high school . I decided to volunteer for a month in a southern asian country before my university starts since volunteering was something I always wanted to do . I managed to find a place to volunteer at and was supposed to live for the first week with family friends then I'd start living at my work place . Thing is my work place couldn't house me due to construction and having another female volunteer coming soon , so I had to find a hostel to stay at , and that's my biggest mistake (also my dumbass wanting to smoke some weed) . I went on the internet and started looking for a hostel , sure enough I found one in the center of the city in a relatively safe area , also the hostel had many great reviews from foreigners so I thought it's safe . I visited the hostel and was greeted by J , he was the nephew of the owner and was responsible for greeting foreigners and showing them around . Jin was in his mid twenties , average looking dude , probably around 5ft8 (I am 6ft3 ,will be important later) . After I make the arrangements for my stay there and agree to come the next day , he invites me to go with him on a walk to show me around the neighborhood which I agree to . During our walk he tells me about himself , he lived in the UK for a bit , tells me about his family and asks me if I smoke . Back then I was a "cool" kid fresh out of highschool , so I ecstatically told him yes since I was trying to get some weed but didn't know how , he told he can get it for me and when I come tomorrow he will have some for me . The next day I go to the hostel and he tells me that he couldn't get it so I have to go with him in his friend's , George, tuktuk to get it , in hindsight that was a big red flag but I was a dumb kid who really wanted to smoke so I said yes . George looked like a cartoon villain , all his face features were sharp and narrow , had the little von dyche beard to go with it , basically a 5ft6 jaafar from Aladdin , I'll call him george . We all get in the tuktuk and drove to the slums of the city to meet the dealer (I think the area was called Wanathamulla , not sure) . Anyways we get the weed and they tell me we are making a stop at George's house and smoking there for a bit , fine by me , I had no reason to suspect them since they were nice and polite with me . We reach his house (still in the slums) ,it was a small room with a bed and three chairs , nothing else , no tables or decore or anything . I sat on a chair , Jin sat on my right and george sat on the bed rolling out some joints for us . We start smoking and talking , they started asking me about why I'm here , how old am I and stuff like that . Suddenly it started becoming a bit too personal , asking me what my parents do for a living , how much they make , and the one that really caught my attention "who are the people you live with (family friend) and do they know where you are and are they gonna worry about you if you don't call soon or something" . I was stones then but the moment they said that I started sobering up and realizing that I'm in a messed up situation , I told them that I'm supposed to call them in a few hours and that they knew which hostel in staying at . Suddenly another guy came and just stood at the doorway completely blocking it , he was my height but much bigger in size than me , I was trapped between them and had nowhere to go . Luckily they couldn't do anything to me yet since I told them I'm supposed to make a phone call to the family friends . Starting to get nervous I tell them that I'm too baked and can't even move or smoke so kept passing up on my turn to smoke , I just lay there acting as if I'm high off my mind . They started speaking in their language but it was clear to me they were speaking about me , Jin told them about all the electronics I had and that I paid my full stay in cash . Now George God bless his soul thought I wasn't aware of my surroundings , so in perfect English (Jin told me he doesn't speak English) started mocking me , kept saying nice phone , and asking me if I know how to swim , I just looked at him and smiled and told them it's time to go because I was tired . We walked out and I told them I needed to go to the market real fast and if they needed anything , they kept telling me that they'll get me whatever I wanted themselves but I insisted that I wanted to go and that they should send one of them with me , they sent the big guy . Now the market was across the street from a bus station and the buses don't stop at the station , they just slow down and you hop in and hop out , so no was my chance . I waited until I saw a bus approaching , sprinted like my life depended on it (it did) and hopped in , they were screaming at me to come back and started running after the bus . The moment the bus reached the neighborhood of the family friends I just hopped out and walked around the neighborhood (I had another let's not meet encounter but that's a story for another time) until morning came . Morning I went to work and told them that a tutuk tried to kidnap me (minus the weird part) ,so they escorted me to the hostel where I took my belongings and work allowed me to stay with them . When I told my family friends about what happened , they told me it's a common scam here and that they were planning to steal my belongings and dump me in the river when we left the house , that's why they asked if I knew how to swim and if someone was expecting me . So Jin and george let's never meet again

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jvva3z/getting_kidnapped_in_a_foreign_country/

LetsNotMeet

throwawaytomydoggo

My ex-housemate was potentially a serial killer...

This is a convoluted story, so bare with me as I try to convey everything I can recall about what led me to the conclusion that my ex housemate could have potentially been a serial killer, or serial killer in the making... It was the summer of 2015 when I moved in, and at first appearances my housemate/landlord Mike was somewhat normal, if not a bit socially awkward and dysfunctional. When I was signing the papers he was adamant that I should never go into the basement; which I thought was odd, but I really needed a place to stay, and, well, people have their little quirks, so I just chalked it up to that at the time. As I got to know Mike, and our cohabitation continued, I learned more about the depths of his dysfunction... firstly that he used Meth; now I don't automatically judge people based on vices, but I was surprised at the extent of his use. He was probably the first person I knew who used Meth and balanced a full time job, enjoyed a decent amount of success... The reason this is important to the story is that when he would be around the house, drinking and using Meth, he would start to run off at the mouth. He would often "joke" that if I smelled Lye coming from the basement, not to think anything of it. I think it was probably the third time he said this that I asked why he keeps saying that, and he said "I use chemicals to clean up after the bodies" with a wiley grin on his face. I tried to chalk that up to a bad sense of humor, but it didn't sit right with me. He was also very particular that I let him know of my coming and going, and my work schedule... I remember him being shocked and uncomfortable one day that I ended up taking off of work, because he didn't realize that I was home. I remember that day because there was a lot of clanging, and what sounded like muffled shouting coming from the basement, his car was in the driveway, but he was not in the main house or his bedroom. Other days he would play very loud music that bumped through the whole house, sometimes he would even play NPR talk radio at those volumes... in retrospect I think he may have been trying to mask sounds. He would make remarks about sex workers, saying "You can do whatever you want, you can choke them or beat them to death and nobody cares"-- I took exception to this, I told him I thought that was messed up... but when he would get tweaking, he'd always come back around to alluding to the same kind of violence, talking about how he was a normal white guy who owned a house and had a good career, so the police would never suspect him. At this point, I start to think that it has gone too far to simply be a joke. I was in a weird position, because money was tight at the time and my options were few. I tried to convince myself that even if he is messed up, he is probably just engaging in outward fantasism... I knew that he would acquire the services of sex workers on occasion, but again, did not judge that activity at face value, but started becoming concerned... Then, at one point when I was doing laundry; I caught whiffs of decomposition... The house we were in was in SouthEast Portland, it was relatively new, having grown up in Upstate, NY, I know that animals can be trapped in walls and die, but this was the garage, and there was no animals scurrying in the walls... This was strange, and telling to me. I considered carefully what I would do, and decided I would confront him about the smell... I decided to poise the question in a somewhat suggestive way, by expanding on his "jokes"-- I told him that he needs to do a better job cleaning up the bodies because I smelled decomposition from the garage. I will never forget his reaction, his eyes widened, and he shot me a sharp glare... somewhere between fear and anger... he stumbled over his words and eventually responded "What? Really?" I said yes, really.. and there was a few seconds of awkwardness before he said "Thanks for letting me know" and promptly went into his bedroom and shut the door. a few days after that he went into the upper crawlspace in the garage, while I was again doing laundry... he called for me and was trying to convince me to come up into the crawlspace... my body locked up and it was like my instincts were screaming at me that if I went up there I would not come back down, I gave some excuse that I can sparsely remember that I had to be someplace, packed up my laundry, threw it in my room, and left. He spent a lot of time in the padlocked basement without a doorknob, the only way in was thru the backyard, I wish I would have gone down there in retrospect, to either confirm or dismiss the suspicions once and for all. In the last couple months I had lived there I was privy to more graphic comments about women, and sex workers, explicit talk of sexual violence, and he was using more and more... He once showed me a video he made (he is a graphic designer and artist as well) which featured heavy bondage themes, interspersed with distorted audio of women screaming, and this strange leering figure in a Plague Doctor costume... It was one of those situations where any one of these things alone may be innocuous, but as they accumulated it became suspicious to me. It was October of 2016 that I left there, taking off to Oceti Oyate camp during the Anti-Pipeline protests with Standing Rock Lakota... A mix of feeling called to action and having nothing to lose, as I wanted to get out of that house in the worst way. My last night there (I did not give notice that I was leaving) he was drinking and tweaking again... started in on the same conversation, loosely describing murder and sexual violence in the tone of some sort of edgy joke ... I told him he would be caught eventually, not even holding back my suspicion anymore... He reiterated that he was the last person police would suspect, and asserted that they wouldn't catch him. He said this in a very serious and concise way, dropping the pretense he had been using before. I left the next morning... This haunted me for months, then a year, then a year and a half... I felt as though I hadn't done anything, the guilt was eating away at me, so I called Portland Crime Stoppers, and put in an anonymous tip describing what I had described here... When I did, the operator started going back and forth putting me on hold because the call had piqued the interest of the police Sgt who was assigned to the call center, so they were asking me detailed questions about his vehicle, his house, the methods he described, etc... it seemed like they took interest. I gave them as much information as I could remember, and left it at that, feeling just a little better that I had at least tried to do something about it... Fast forward to recent times, I told my mother about all of this, and she became interested, asking what house this was, and she ended up pulling it up on GMaps, she put up the street view, and I noticed that there was a large enclosed trailer in the driveway that wasn't there when I was, I could theorize why it might have been there, but cannot put together a practical reason for it, or why he'd be using it, unless he was moving or using it to haul things to discard. Admittedly that is pure conjecture, but I couldn't help but wonder... I doubt that I will get closure, or have my suspicions validated unless he does finally get caught and arrested, and I read about it. I have grown up poor, and been around the low-life a lot. I have interacted with many sketchy and unsavory people in my time, but none of them have ever made the impression that Mike made on me. Make of it what you will, but I hope I never meet him again. (Edit: fixed a typo and redundant sentence) (Edit 2: You are entitled to your opinion, you are entitled to think that I am over-reacting, or that I didn't do enough, but I'm not going to accept these insults and verbal abuse, if that's how you approach me I am just gonna downvote and block you. Please keep it respectful.)

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jvcjcb/my_exhousemate_was_potentially_a_serial_killer/

LetsNotMeet

[deleted]

Trampolines and Dancing

This story involves someone who was by proxy close to my family, whose relative is still close with us to this day, so I made a new account and am posting from a different IP. This all happened a long time ago, in 1994. I was only 8 years old, and my world view was as narrow as you'd expect any child's to be. Aside from this memory I am about to share, that year was marked by a nail biting series of penalty kicks that ended in a nervous Roberto Baggio (aka the savior of Italy) kicking the final shot over and above the net in a crushing defeat to Italy and his own career. For the remainder of the year I was glued to my Game Boy playing World Cup USA 94 trying to recreate the game with a better ending for Baggio. Of course, the graphics were bleeding edge at the time. We had just moved from my childhood home in a bad part of town to a new home in suburbia. My dad's small business had finally started making money after 3 years of losing money, and my parents wanted to give us kids some space to stretch out and play. At the time I only had an older sister (11). I was convinced the new house was haunted, but kinda thought that was cool. The house sat on 3 acres of land, bordered by woods and was pretty far tucked back from the rest of the neighborhood. My parents wanted to double the house in size and add a nice kitchen for my mom who enjoys cooking for guests. They went through the motions of getting the addition permitted, and tried to find a contractor but didn't like anyone they met. Then an employee of my father recommended her brother, Steve, who was a young contractor (early 30s) who just got his license and was hungry for work. It was summertime and my sister and I didn't have school, so my parents would leave her to watch me while they were at work. Twice a week my grandma came to pick up my sister for dance lessons. I would only be alone for 90 minutes or so, and I was good about keeping myself occupied, so nobody ever thought it was a problem. On the days that we were together, Steve began work on the house, and aside from the occasional hello, he would come and work a little at a time. It started off well, with a solid few weeks of work, but then he started coming less and less. The times he did show up, he'd spend 10% of the time working, and the rest of the time split between dancing around with headphones in, and jumping on my trampoline. Yea, he danced a lot, I didn't really understand why an adult was dancing so much while he was supposed to be working, but that also didn't really bother me since my sister was a dancer. But my trampoline... that thing was my pride and joy, I had to vacuum the house and rake leaves for months to save up the $240 to be able to afford that thing, and there he was, wearing his heavy steel-toed boots while he jumped haphazardly. I wasn't the type to start conflict so I begrudgingly let it slide. One day though after he spent a longer than average jumping session on it, I went outside to inspect and found a massive tear on the edge of the trampoline, and that was that. Little HighUpSam had enough of Steve's boots. I finally complained to my parents that he ripped my trampoline and then it all came out - he only came for a few hours, a couple of times a week, and mostly just hung out and danced and played on the trampoline while my sister and I sat in the back room. I didn't understand fully what all this meant, but I remember my parents calling him to yell at him. As they yelled I felt a wave of guilt wash over me, I knew it was hard work, and my favorite thing about the trampoline was that it was big enough for everyone to share it. I didn't want to be a jerk, so the next time he came over I approached him to try to apologize. I had practiced what I was going to say. I was going to tell him I was sorry that I told on him, but I worked hard to buy the trampoline with my own money, and he could still use it, if only he would please take off his boots before jumping on it. As I approached him though he threw his hammer on the ground, pointed at me and started screaming at me loudly. I don't remember what he said, I was so shocked and definitely didn't expect that reaction, so I ran away and my sister, who had heard the yelling and saw me running back, called my parents. Later that night my parents let us know that they fired Steve, and that he wouldn't be coming back. They were on the search for a new contractor to replace him. That next week, my sister and I would hear a car pulling up, idling a bit, and then pulling away. We looked out every time and it was Steve's red truck. It didn't seem strange for some reason, maybe he was finalizing some plans to hand over the job to the next guy? A child's mind is something else... One day my grandma came to pick up my sister for dance, and minutes after they pulled away, I had my nose buried in World Cup USA 94. I was 30 seconds in to my latest Italy v Brazil match when I heard the rhythmic crunching of leaves outside my window. They stopped. Remember, I thought the house was haunted, so in my mind it was a ghost, or a skeleton, or some possessed doll. I freaked out and lay frozen in my bed. Then I heard sounds on the window frame, like something clawing to get a grip on the handle, and trying to open them. Then the crunching footsteps started again and moved to my other window, followed by the same scratching sounds. At this point, I put the game boy down and ran out of my room and into the living room - which connects to the foyer. As I was running, I saw a figure move across the front windows, and realized it was Steve. PHEW. Not a possessed doll! He smiled at me and tapped on the glass, and said, "Hi Sam, can you and me just talk? I feel bad about what I did." I stared at him for a second, not quite sure what to do, and starting to feel uneasy. He followed with, "Come on, just let me in for a second, I want to make this right" Something felt off. His eyes seemed... off. His smile seemed... off. So I replied, "I'm not allowed to let you in, I'm sorry" And just like that ::snap:: a switch flipped in his head and he started pounding on the window angrily. "DON'T PLAY GAMES, YOU BETTER LET ME IN RIGHT NOW!" His face turned red. His eyes went wide. It almost seemed like he was drooling. Confused, I turned and ran back into my room and locked the door. "HEY! IF YOU DON'T OPEN THE DOOR IM GOING TO BREAK THIS WINDOW! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" I screamed that I was calling the police and telling them that he was here. A bluff... everyone had a cordless phone in their room except for me. But I didn't know what else to say. And just like that, I heard him pound on the glass one last time before hearing his truck drive out the driveway. Shaken, I left my room and called my mom. A few days later, she told me that he would no longer be bothering me. I thought she had done her mom thing and gave him a stern talking to. My mom was terrifying, a short Italian woman who spit fireballs (and wasn't afraid to hit you with a wooden spoon), so that seemed the obvious conclusion. When I was 19 and home from college one night I asked my parents what ever happened with him. They told me according to his sister (their employee) he had fallen down a drug spiral (likely meth) and lost control. A few days after the incident at our house, he had been accused of assaulting another young boy and the police found incriminating photos. He jumped off of a local bridge and ended his own life before he could be arrested. Thats when it all hit me. My memory as a child was horribly skewed. He was not just trying to talk to me, and wasn't mad at me for not letting him in. Looking back as an adult, it was clear that Steve had some issues he was working through. Being gay in the 90s must have not been easy, and it makes me sad to think about what kind of person he might have been if society had accepted him. But what he did to the other boy is absolutely unacceptable, and there is no way that can be justified no matter how he might have tried to. It might've been me that day. I was lucky to have dodged him.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jvlvju/trampolines_and_dancing/

LetsNotMeet

highupsam

Pizza Hut, a Police Pursuit and a Plaster Cast..

When I was 13 I broke my leg in a nasty bicycle accident. I ended up in a plaster cast from my hip to my ankle for 8 weeks. As it was coming up to Christmas, my younger brother wanted to go to the theatre to see the Christmas show. I was 13.. moody and accompanied by a bright pink cast everywhere I went. I was not feeling it. My dad, never one for going to the theatre offered to take me to Pizza Hut instead. It was a rare opportunity to spend time with my dad, who was often working very long hours. He worked as a police officer, which at the time, I didn’t really take an interest in what he did... We had a great evening at Pizza Hut and we got back into the car to go home with full bellies and some left over pizza. I remember babbling away to my dad as I had been the whole night, enthralled I had my dads undivided attention. After a while I noticed he wasn’t really responding anymore. We were fairly near home but still on main roads before we turned off towards our housing estate. At first I thought he’d just lost interest but I glanced across and noticed he was permanently looking in the rear view mirror. I asked him what was up and he said, “the car behind us has followed us all the way from Pizza Hut”. I glanced behind and commented that we were still on main roads, I couldn’t see that this was an unusual route for this guy to take. He said I need to see whether he is, I don’t want to lead this guy to our house. I rolled my eyes, my dad was always paranoid about stuff like that... we couldn’t even tell friends we were going on holiday because he was convinced the house would be broken into while we were away! We were coming up to a residential area before ours that I knew from doing a newspaper round. I suggested the street coming up on the left, as it looped around in a horse shoe shape through a housing estate and brings you back out on the same main road we were on, just further up. Nobody would take this road to come out onto the main road again. My dad turned off... and so did the car. I will never forget that feeling, that sinking feeling as I watched the car sharply turn behind ours. The car placed its full beams on. I let out a gasp and looked to my dad. He’d gone into work mode. He had completely shut me out. He accelerated down the street and as we came to the main road I saw there were many cars still on the main road. He pulled straight out on to the main road, meaning the car coming on the main road needed to brake sharply and held down their horn at us. I kept my eyes on the road ahead breathing deeply as my dad weaved in and out of lanes. A part of me was completely terrified and a part of me was still convinced this was not really happening.. that he had exaggerated or mistaken this. He wasn’t really following us. I dared to look in the side mirror and saw it was a different car behind us. I felt myself relax a little. We turned left at the coming roundabout, giving very little room to anyone and a few moments of holding my breath thinking we were going to hear the sound of metal on metal. The street we had turned on to was slighter quieter than the road previous. I slowly glanced into the side mirror, it was still a different car behind us. I sighed relief and thought this had really been my dads imagination. Suddenly, the rear view mirror became completely illuminated again and I awkwardly turned in my seat to see a car pull out sharply from behind the car behind us and pull in quickly behind ours again. I looked to my dad again. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and told me to call someone in particular in his Phone and put it on speaker. My hands were shaking, I could barely press the buttons. A cheerful voice answered and before he could say anything else my dad quickly summarised what had happened. There was a pause and I could here voices speaking in the background, radios, beeping and answering through radios. My dad barked at me to keep naming the streets we were on to the guy on the phone as my dad randomly turned down streets, trying to keep to main roads. I’m randomly calling names and trying to remember to say the direction we were heading.. The car was so close behind us and completely blinding any view behind us. All I could think was please don’t hit us, if we crash I cannot run. What the hell can i do? My leg had only just been plastered. I knew I stood no chance. I suddenly wondered if they were getting close enough to take a shot at us? This for me was unthinkable.. It was in England.. that is not the norm..! Why the hell would someone want to shoot us! We continued to weave down streets and random turns as I was tossed around the front seat clutching on to the mobile in my trembling hands. The voice on the phone shouted, turn into the Tesco car park that’s coming up on the left we have three response vehicles coming from the other direction. My dad sharply turned into the car park, skipping the red light, I shut my eyes.. again waiting for the sound of metal on metal. As we swung into the near empty car park, the car behind us in close pursuit.. blue lights surrounded our car from what felt like all directions. The sound of sirens was deafening. My dad got straight out of the car and ran behind the car.. I screamed still thinking someone could have had a gun and tried to look over my shoulder to see when my door swung open and a police officer was crouching into the car to help me get me out. My arms were completely jelly I could not even use the crutches to help me stand. Another police officer came and between them they helped me as I hopped to the back of the police car. They were kind and tried to distract me as I was trying to see what was going on and where my dad was. I couldn’t really see from my angle and I also couldn’t turn properly due to my leg. They did their best to reassure me and one had clearly just been through the nearby McDonald’s drive through offered me his tea. I just sobbed. Begging them to tell me what was going on. My dad after some time came over to the car and told them to take me home, he had checked and my mum was back home with my brother. As the police car turned around in the car park back towards the entrance we could see the police surrounding the vehicle and three men in what looked to be their late twenties were handcuffed leaning over the car whilst a sniffer dog and two police officers were taking things out of the car... one of which was a baseball bat. When my dad got home later that night I asked him what it was about.. who the hell were those men and why were they following us? He was very reluctant to tell me anything. He did admit, it was because of him that they were following us. He explained that he was in a drugs team that dealt with (how I understand this as an adult) the interception of large shipments of drugs that were being transferred across the country and sometimes.. people lost a lot of money when they were caught. I just stared at him.. I had no idea what to say... he just shrugged and said.. “sometimes... people get upset about that...” Dear the drug lords whom my father took your drugs or money from.. I’d rather not meet 😳

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jv8xkk/pizza_hut_a_police_pursuit_and_a_plaster_cast/

LetsNotMeet

EUCrime_Junkie

I was followed by someone pretending to be drunk

This happened in college, maybe seven years ago. At the time I was living with one of my best friends, and we were very into the bar scene and partying and such. We lived in a city that was very much inundated with college kids, so it was never hard to find a party, and I am ashamed to admit it but probably every other night I was out partying my ass off. So this story starts on a night very much like every other, she and I got all dressed up and went on a bar crawl. We ended up at this club, it was one of the more popular ones in the area, and we meet up with my ex roommate. The three of us are having a great night, but periodically we all were interacting with this one guy. None of us remember his name, but he seemed normal enough, just... around. He sat next to us on the smoking porch and bummed a cig from me, he bought my friend a drink, he was dancing next to us, we even all had a little flippant conversation together, although I can’t for the life of me remember what it was about. But he was there, in the periphery, all night. Around 1AM the three of us decide that we’re drunk enough and done dancing, and my ex roommate invites me and the bestie to her place to smoke some weed. None of us have cars at this point, but it’s a nice night and she only lives a couple of miles away, so we start walking. The downtown streets quickly turn into a semi-residential/semi-warehouse district area. Not the best part of town, or the most populated, but not a bad area by any means and usually the streets are fully empty. We’re maybe about halfway to the house when we notice there’s someone behind us trailing along and getting closer. We really don’t think anything of it until we pause to light up some cigarettes and he catches up and we realize it’s the guy who’d been hanging around us at the bar. He’s kind of stumbly, clearly drunk, and he greets us like old friends. We don’t want to be rude, but it strikes all of us as kind of weird that he’s there to begin with. But we shrug it off cuz he’s drunk and seemingly harmless. I should say right here he’s a real scrawny guy, on the taller side but thin with a baby face and big big eyes. He just looks generally harmless and drunk. He asks if he can bum a smoke and walk with us until he gets where he’s going, which isn’t far, he’s just pretty drunk and not sure he’ll make it, and he’s clearly very unsteady in his feet so we say sure, why not. So we’re walking and chatting and we’re getting closer to our destination, but he doesn’t make any indication of where he’s going. So finally I ask him, “Where do you live anyway?” And he gives me this funny look, like I’d asked something really stupid and he says, “Oh, I don’t live anywhere near here.” This kind of creeps us all out and we sort of stop where we are, and I’m like “Okay well then where are you going?” And he goes, “Oh, I’m following you.” At this point I think there’s been maybe like a misunderstanding in his mind so I respond with something along the lines of, “Okay well no offense but we don’t even know your name, you’re not coming with us.” And he gets this look, like hurt but also angry and a little manic and he gets kind of loud and he says “But I told you ALL my name! I told each of you my name! How do NONE of you remember my name??” At this point my ex roomie steps in and goes, “Look man, I know you’re drunk but you need to calm down.” And the guy stops and gets real calm real fast, and he gets this really serious look and he says, “No, no I’m not drunk. I’m fine. I just knew you’d trust me more if you thought I was drunk.” At that point I’m like fuck NO I’m out, but my roomie doesn’t believe him and she says something like, “No you’ve been stumbling this whole time of COURSE you’re drunk.” And he shakes his head and in a completely calm tone, with no slurring whatsoever he goes, “No I’m sober. I just wanted to see if you’d let me in the house.” And my friend goes, “Why?” And the guy gets this HUGE smile, and his big eyes get even wider and he says, “I just wanted to see how close I could get to killing you.” At that point I’d had enough and I put on my authority voice and I tell him that that is enough and that we’re leaving and he needs to go the other fucking direction before I call the cops. He just shrugs and says, “Fine.” And we scurry away and leave him leaning up against a stop sign, just smoking a cig and watching us go. As soon as we round the corner we all break into a dead sprint and run for a few blocks, then stop and freak out. We’re in the middle of a panic whisper huddle, when my friend looks over my shoulder and lets out this little scream. We turn around, and there he is. It’s dark so we can’t really see his face, just his silhouette against the street lamps, but that was enough to know it was definitely him. He’s striding down the road a few blocks down, hands in his pockets, not a TRACE of a stumble, and he’s not exactly running but he’s walking at this real brisk pace, and he’d be on us in less than a minute. Luckily, we’re only about a block away from my friend’s place, so we start booking it there. We’re almost at the front door when I realize, SHIT, we don’t want him to know where we’re going, not the three of us alone. That seems dangerous as hell. Fortune shines on us, as up the block I can see the tell-tale signs of a garage party, and we book it over there instead. We come up to the lawn and there’s a bunch of dudes out front and we’re breathlessly trying to explain ourselves, but when we turn around to point out the guy, he’s no where to be seen. The partiers sympathize and let us hang for a few hours and a few of them even walked us back to the house. Thankfully we never saw the dude again, and needless to say my friends and I lost our taste for partying for quite awhile after that. Drunk/not drunk dude, let’s not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jv4vo9/i_was_followed_by_someone_pretending_to_be_drunk/

LetsNotMeet

Jinnicky

Large man in hotel

I was on a date in Camden with a girl who from photos I wasnt overly excited about but in the flesh made my eyebrows shoot off my head. She was really pretty and smart and funny. We had quite a few cocktails in I think it was the blues kitchen before going to the gay bar in Camden which has since closed down. Think it was called The Black Cap. The date is going well and we meet these people who join our table and the guy tells me at the bar my date said she wanted me to kiss her. I did and it turned out that guy was just helping us out by moving things along. My date was really shocked and told me I was bold but she liked it. She came back to my hotel room with me, which was a ten minute walk away. The room was kind of small but cool and space age in style. We were both drunk and made out a lot. The she started crying about problems she was having with a friend who was really sick and her job was really stressful. Full on sobbing. She left in embarrassment even though I was worried about her leaving like that but she said she would be OK. As she left I saw a large man in a black thick leather jacket in the corridor. He was staring at my date as she left and then stared at me as I closed the door. I was pretty wasted so after checking my date got on a bus I had a nap and was woken up by banging on the door. I ignored it but then it kept going so I got up and staggered to the door and opened it a crack. I recognised the leather elbow and arm as the door was shoved open violently. I was drunk and the jolt of the door caused me to fall over. Luckily the room entrance was small and around the width of the door so my back was against the wall by the door while my feet touched the other wall. My body kept the door closed as this man kept shoving against the door. I managed to get it closed again, locked it and went to sleep as I was still drunk. When I woke up in the morning I thought I had dreamt the man and the door. But when I looked down at the side of my ribs, hips and thigh I had dark bruises. I was really lucky and I am so glad that room was tight on space because if it hadnt been that guy would have got in pretty easily. So creepy leather clad man who tried to break into my hotel room, lets not meet. Edit just wanted to add I am female. Average height, average body weight. Really fucking weedy arms.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/julkvh/large_man_in_hotel/

LetsNotMeet

driedspitandteeth

[MODPOST] It's LNM's 9th birthday!

# Today is a very special day- it's /r/LetsNotMeet’s 9th birthday! To celebrate 9 years of truly horrifying encounters, the mod team has put together a thread of some of the top stories that have been posted to LNM over the years. I’d like to add an extra shoutout and thank you to /u/federalplague and /u/avidtraveller123, whose excellent post compilations of the scariest LNM stories were consulted for a portion of this list. These are some of the top stories on LNM, from the very beginning to now! Please enjoy reading through our little timeline of /r/LetsNotMeet. :) We would also like to extend a special thank you to all of you who have shared your stories and come together as a part of the LNM community over the years. We wouldn’t still be here without all of you, so please enjoy some of the stories that have graced the front page of /u/LetsNotMeet over the years. As a reminder, all stories belong to the person who wrote and posted the story. Please see our [Official LNM Statement on Narrators](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jigh43/rletsnotmeet_official_statement_on_narrators/) for more information on copyright and what you can do if you think someone has used your story without your permission. Now, without further ado, onto the list! # /u/LetsNotMeet 9th Birthday Post Compilation*: (\*List is arranged by most recent to oldest, by year.) [**Church in the Woods**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ff66le/church_in_the_woods/) by /u/[outworlder39](https://www.reddit.com/user/outworlder39/) [**I (a pizza guy) intercepted a kidnapping during a delivery**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hzw60w/i_a_pizza_guy_intercepted_a_kidnapping_during_a/) by /u/[enoughpizzanow](https://www.reddit.com/user/enoughpizzanow/) [**Someone broke into my house and tried to find me**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/g0vyn2/someone_broke_into_my_house_and_tried_to_find_me/) by /u/[StaringVoid](https://www.reddit.com/user/StaringVoid/) [**Florida woman crawled out of my hotel mirror to rob me**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ael5nr/florida_woman_crawled_out_of_my_hotel_mirror_to/) by /u/[tbug411](https://www.reddit.com/user/tbug411/) [**The man on my patio**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/al8k5s/the_man_on_my_patio/) by /u/[Pesfi678](https://www.reddit.com/user/Pesfi678/) [**Always change your locks when you buy a new house**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/a8i4ve/always_change_your_locks_when_you_buy_a_new_house/) by /u/[Artwat](https://www.reddit.com/user/Artwat/) [**I Was Someone Else's letsnotmeet**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/bejjnw/i_was_someone_elses_letsnotmeet/) by /u/[Sip\_of\_Sunshine](https://www.reddit.com/user/Sip_of_Sunshine/) [**What was she planning to do to me?**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/a28lc5/what_was_she_planning_to_do_to_me/) by /u/[kennyc5576](https://www.reddit.com/user/kennyc5576/) [**The Tooth Man**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/bhgbay/the_tooth_man/) by /u/[enormous-radio](https://www.reddit.com/user/enormous-radio/) [**My brother saw a ghost as a kid. Two decades later, I realized what he actually saw**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/9skswy/my_brother_saw_a_ghost_as_a_kid_two_decades_later/) by /u/[florianizer](https://www.reddit.com/user/florianizer/) [**Had an incredibly frightening experience last night and wanted to know if anyone here has ever had a similar encounter**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/9mvx9v/had_an_incredibly_frightening_experience_last/) by /u/[sharkserrday](https://www.reddit.com/user/sharkserrday/) [**The one day I woke up late may have saved my life**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/8e8tcj/the_one_day_i_woke_up_late_may_have_saved_my_life/) by \[deleted\] [**Former Park Ranger**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/7ylahl/former_park_ranger/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app) by /u/[randomlawngnome](https://www.reddit.com/user/randomlawngnome/) [**I grew up across the street from one of the most notorious mass school shooters**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/9bn3um/i_grew_up_across_the_street_from_one_of_the_most/?st=JNX3EU8G&sh=530c407b) by /u/[brubz89](https://www.reddit.com/user/brubz89/) [**Man trying to enter my home in the middle of the night**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/9dk8l1/man_trying_to_enter_my_home_in_the_middle_of_the/?st=JNX2TR4C&sh=7a067460) by /u/[\_Jedidicktricks](https://www.reddit.com/user/_Jedidicktricks/) [**Thought my boyfriend got home from work. It wasn't my boyfriend**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/6pap6g/thought_my_boyfriend_got_home_from_work_it_wasnt/) by /u/[heartx3jess](https://www.reddit.com/user/heartx3jess/) [**Two Years of Hell: How I was Stalked, Completely Betrayed, and Nearly Murdered**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/5hlax7/two_years_of_hell_how_i_was_stalked_completely/) by /u/[Socivarious](https://www.reddit.com/user/Socivarious/) [**My Dad Almost Sacrificed Himself For Me**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/6dkzgu/my_dad_almost_sacrificed_himself_for_me/) by /u/[Justine772](https://www.reddit.com/user/Justine772/) [**I survived a mass shooting at a movie theater**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/547omy/i_survived_a_mass_shooting_at_a_movie_theater/) by /u/[Neon\_Pikachu](https://www.reddit.com/user/Neon_Pikachu/) [**Holodomor**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/3y3rtg/holodomor/?st=JNX2F7SV&sh=25b3c65e) by /u/[takemetokiawah](https://www.reddit.com/user/takemetokiawah/) [**I was home alone**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/3zy0r4/i_was_home_alone/?st=JNX2CJY1&sh=35c82dfc) by /u/[Agastopia](https://www.reddit.com/user/Agastopia/) [**Backcountry hike turns terrifying**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/4j7ksf/backcountry_hike_turns_terrifying/) by /u/[OrangeTentGirl](https://www.reddit.com/user/OrangeTentGirl/) [**He was making human traps**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/4h3e13/he_was_making_human_traps/?st=JNX2HN3C&sh=18f5f8f6) by /u/[skogsfallan](https://www.reddit.com/user/skogsfallan/) [**Saved by Bikers**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/3v0tb2/saved_by_bikers/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) by /u/[jthrowaway121](https://www.reddit.com/user/jthrowaway121/) [**Almost a victim of human trafficking, best friend and her mom still missing**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/38f4nf/almost_a_victim_of_human_trafficking_best_friend/) by /u/[floridaflor](https://www.reddit.com/user/floridaflor/) [**In the hills, no one can hear you cry**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/3aepxo/in_the_hills_no_one_can_hear_you_cry/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) by /u/[schmidt\_face](https://www.reddit.com/user/schmidt_face/) [**One decision**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/3i3syh/one_decision/) by /u/[dreams\_child](https://www.reddit.com/user/dreams_child/) [**Ladies, ALWAYS trust your intuition, and be careful when staying in hotel rooms alone!**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/2e95ne/ladies_always_trust_your_intuition_and_be_careful/) by /u/[isabelly212](https://www.reddit.com/user/isabelly212/) [**He had plans for me**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/21iv3y/he_had_plans_for_me/) by /u/[JennLegend3](https://www.reddit.com/user/JennLegend3/) [**The Man in the Brush**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/2ic8wc/the_man_in_the_brush/) by /u/[Canorauk](https://www.reddit.com/user/Canorauk/) [**Encounter With a Serial Killer**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/20n7hf/encounter_with_a_serial_killer/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app) by /u/[iso\_quinn](https://www.reddit.com/user/iso_quinn/) [**The Tent in the Trees**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/28sqpp/the_tent_in_the_trees/?st=JO0ROEHB&sh=feb6d44f) by /u/[randoliof](https://www.reddit.com/user/randoliof/) [**My sister claimed someone comes into her house in the middle of the night**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/1hze34/my_sister_claimed_someone_comes_into_her_house_in/) by \[deleted\]\* \***^(Update)** ^(by sister,) /u/AnonymousPanda_^(, can be found) [^(here)](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/1iwiue/re_my_sister_claimed_someone_comes_into_her_house/)^(.) [**Terrorized for 2 Hours**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/1jlcs2/terrorized_for_2_hours/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb) by /u/[MauraGrace](https://www.reddit.com/user/MauraGrace/) [**A true, very creepy surveillance story**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/1qf4v0/a_true_very_creepy_surveillance_story/) by /u/[coolvy](https://www.reddit.com/user/coolvy/) [**The Kid Who Shot His Neighbor**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/xhu17/the_kid_who_shot_his_neighbor/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app) by /u/[Injunwerks](https://www.reddit.com/user/Injunwerks/) [**The Bridge**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/tj2uc/the_bridge/?st=JNYYMAZ2&sh=ab6f1c95) by \[deleted\] **And, last, but certainly not least, the famous** [**Smiling Man**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/rvzaq/the_smiling_man/) \* by /u/[blue\_tidal](https://www.reddit.com/user/blue_tidal/) ^(\*As a reminder, as the OP is no longer active on that account,) /u/blue_tidal ^(has stated that they do not endorse fan videos or narrations of their story and do not wish for people to use their story for profit (i.e. monetization or merchandizing.) # LNM 9th Bithday Banner Contest: One Week to Go! Friendly reminder that there is about **one week left** to submit an entry for the LNM 9th Birthday banner contest! Submissions should be made by **November 22nd at 11:59 PM (UTC)** and can be submitted on the [contest thread](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jm4yc6/modpost_rletsnotmeet_9th_birthday_banner_contest/). Results will be announced on December 1st!

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/juigp9/modpost_its_lnms_9th_birthday/

LetsNotMeet

kokirikid

The hairdresser

So I recently heard about this thread and thought I’d share something that has always stuck with my friend and I. I worked at a beauty store in Texas that sold hair, makeup or nail related. I had a lot of regulars so the fact that I saw the same person over and over was nothing new but I did have one hairdresser that always struck up a conversation every time he was coming to “stock up”. The first couple times he’d have me follow him around and asked my opinion(he really did “stock up” as the saying goes) but that term became a misnomer after he started only talking about my hair. I naturally have very huge loose curls and it upset him that I wasn’t treating it right. He only even said he was “amazing with natural curls” but he never actually gave advice. I was 19 and didn’t realize that that really is a weird thing to do. Soon the visits were only conversations and constantly asking me to let him do my hair for free and trying to entice me so I finally just took him up on the offer. I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was but I at least knew to not go alone nor tell him I was bringing someone. I have never been good at reading situations so I would slightly switch up on people to see any micro expressions that hint to a ulterior motive if I don’t have a good feeling. He immediately switched the meeting place as we drove there from his “salon” to his house and ignoring my stabbing gut feeling I just kept going. I remember really not wanting to go in once we arrived. When he got to the door his eyes instantly went to my friend and as I thought he looked irritated and I was going to use that as a way to head out but I didn’t even think of a scenario where he would take to her hair as well. I instantly was only trying to find a natural way out as he’s greeting us in. He asked us to brush our hair and I noticed in my peripheral that he was adding something to our drinks when he thought we were focused on getting my brush. My friend was actually texting me on her phone so I could make something up while I reached for the brush. I set the brush down to check my text when it vibrated. He immediately tried to make us uncomfortable if we didn’t take the drinks but didn’t realize he was staring at my hair in a trancelike state. I instantly put my phone to my ear and held up a finger to his face that was closing in, now holding my hair. I started acting panicked and my friend knew instantly that it meant “time to go”. I didn’t even reply to any question he fired. I just kept up this fake conversation with my “mom” asking “is dad ok? Are you ok? I’m leaving right now just tell me where.” By the time all of that was uttered we were out the door briskly walking down the hall to the elevator and his door stayed cracked until the ding of the elevator when he immediately slammed the door so hard we felt the vibrations. I didn’t feel safe till we were in the car and driving on hwy 121. We rode in stunned silence till I got to her house to drop her off when she finally asked for a cigarette and to sit for a bit. I don’t know what he had planned whether it was just some actual innocent obsession with hair and his way was just too awkward and shady or if there was something more devious planned but we never talked about it again and stopped going to hairdressers altogether and we share a knowing glance when we hear something that reminds us of that moment when we’re together. All I can say is we definitely agreed that day before parting that we did not want to meet him again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jukwtj/the_hairdresser/

LetsNotMeet

heathaHiTTAhoe

Chased by Creepy Rednecks on the Backroads of SE Oklahoma

Sometime during my high school years, the exact year and time escape me at this point, I found myself in a nearby town on a date attempting to impress a girl whom I had been secretly crushing on for quite some time; we will call her Ana. Ana and I had just had a really nice evening and we're winding down getting ready to go home. This takes place in rural southeast Oklahoma so we had about another hour or so of travel time together in order for me to get her to her house and I was quite looking forward to the conversation and anything else that might transpire on the way home. The night ended with our hearts racing and us struggling to catch our breath, but not in the way you might expect from two hormonal teenagers on a Friday night. ​ After our dinner and a movie, basically all there was to do in the small town, I stopped at a local Loves gas station to fill up my truck with gas. I didn't have a credit card at the time so I pulled up to the pump, left Ana in the truck, and went inside to pay for my gas. On the way inside I noticed this old beaten-up Ford F-250 with two, dare I say, rednecks staring at me. The beaten-up ford wasn't an uncommon sight in rural Oklahoma, but the constant staring made me uneasy. When I returned to my truck and filled up Ana informed me that they had been staring at her too and that they were giving her the creeps. I told her they were probably just bored and messing with us and we didn't think much of it. I pulled out onto the street, pulled my truck into the turn lane, and began to turn on Highway 3 which would take me all the way to Ana's house. The light was red and taking ages to turn; everything in small-town Oklahoma seems to move slower than a snail in molasses, and as we are waiting we notice a truck pull up next to us. At first, we pay the truck no mind, but something was off. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something offputting. We turn and look and, to our dismay, see the same beaten-up Ford F-250 with, now, three people in the cab all intently staring at us. Us being the zealous teenagers that we were decided to show these guys what we are made of, and as the light turned green we rolled down our window, flashed a big smile across our faces, and gave them the biggest middle fingers that we could to show them just what we thought of their endless staring. We then hit the gas and continued on our way home. ​ A few moments pass by with Ana and I laughing at what we just did to these idiot creeps but eventually, the moment fades and we begin talking about something else. We get down the road a few miles and I notice a set of headlights coming from behind us, this road wasn't super busy but we had just come from a larger town so there wasn't anything offputting about the lights at this point. However, after a few more moments pass we realize something is really wrong. The headlights begin flashing and blinding us, the car begins swerving and eventually pulls over into the left lane to try and get beside us. We quickly realized exactly who this was. I'm by no means a car guy but I recognized the shape of the hood of the truck. This was the beaten-up F-250 that we had just flipped off a few miles back and now they were pissed and coming for us. At this point in my life, I was about 5ft 8in and weighed about 115lbs soaking wet, I was a little guy and I knew that I stood no chance against 3 larger guys. I was gonna get pummeled into oblivion, or worse and we had no idea what they were going to do with Ana. I slammed on the gas and began traveling as fast as I could down the windy backroads of SE Oklahoma trying to come up with an idea to get us out of this mess. ​ As we sped down the highway I began to look for common landmarks that I knew on Highway 3. I didn't see them. I knew that we had been traveling for quite some time down this road but it didn't seem the same. We slowly realized that we weren't on the right road. We had taken the wrong turn, blinded by our hubris we turned on a narrow country road that was certain to lead us to our death. We didn't know what to do. Of course, when I told this to my parents they said things like "you should have called 911" or "you should have driven to the nearest police station" however, we didn't think to call 911 and we didn't know where the police station was because we were lost. So we took matters into our own hands and continued traveling as fast as we could down the small windy backroad. We had a few near misses with the truck as they were attempting to rear-end us, or at least make us believe they were, but finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, we saw our shining beacon of light. I can't remember the specifics but somehow we got far enough ahead of them that we began to think we might lose them. Out of the corner of my eye, we spotted a small local church. Ana checked behind us and couldn't see their headlights so I slammed on the brakes, killed the lights in my truck, and in the pitch darkness drove off of the road, through the lawn of the church, and behind the building. We sat there panicking and wondering if they had seen us. It was a risky move. For all, we know we could be stuck and if they saw us we might not have a chance to escape. We sat and watched as the beat-up truck passed down the road at incredible speed. They hadn't seen us. We breathed a sigh of relief as we waited to see if they turned around. After a few moments passed we pulled out of the parking lot, kicked it into high gear, and got back to town as quickly as we could. We both learned a lesson in flipping off shady rednecks that night and, to my knowledge, we haven't done so since. ​ Creepy rednecks in the busted up F-250, lets not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jug0cd/chased_by_creepy_rednecks_on_the_backroads_of_se/

LetsNotMeet

optimisticdingo54201

A worried lady? Or a female kidnapper?

I notice that a lot of stories here feature creepy men, so I thought it would be interesting to share mine (that features a creepy woman). This happened when I was 12 years old and in Year 8 in Australia. A friend and I played after-school hockey. It wasn't a popular sport so our games took place at another school which was incredibly far away and pretty much in the middle of nowhere. The area didn't have any train stations, so we relied on 3 different buses to get there, and again to get home. The games usually took place pretty late and ended around 7/8 pm when it was dark. All the other girls in our team got picked up by their parents, but we always bussed it together home. We didn't feel it was dangerous because there were two of us and being classic 12-year-olds, we thought we were mature enough to be independent. Because we had to change buses three times, and we lived so far away, by the time we got to our 2nd bus stop it was usually pitch black. The 2nd bus stop was desolate, far out from the school, in front of some kind of abandoned building; and basically a bit creepy. The stop was small and wasn't sheltered; it was just a steel pole with a bus painted on the sign. On this particular night, it was raining as well, so we felt extra miserable standing out in the cold. Australian buses are also notoriously unreliable, so it wasn't unusual for us to wait an hour at this bus stop. That night it definitely felt like we had been waiting there over an hour when a car pulled up in front of us. A woman was in it, she rolled down her window and asked where we were going. I told her \*\*\*\*\* \[the suburb we lived in, which was an hr drive away\] and she said she could give us a lift if we wanted. If it had been a man I would've been immediately suspicious and legged it, but because she was a young-ish woman (looked about 40), it didn't raise any red flags in my mind. I remember thinking that she must be understandably worried about 2 young girls standing out in the rain at night. I smiled and thanked her and said it was okay, we would wait for the bus. She hesitated and then drove away. Around a few minutes later she came back and pulled up in front of us again. She told us that her daughter was in a play at \*\*\*\*\* and that she was going there anyway to pick her up, so are we sure we didn't want a lift? My friend was almost about to get in, but I hesitated *(maybe thanks to my parents drilling me about stranger danger*) and I said Thank you, but it was alright, we'll wait. She was a bit pushier this time and asked us if we were sure quite a few times and mentioned her daughter again, but she eventually drove away. At this point, I think my intuition was telling me that it felt a bit weird she hadn't mentioned her daughter earlier. Another few minutes later she came back AGAIN. This time she said that she had just driven past our bus further down the road and that it had obviously skipped our stop, so she offered to give us a lift to try to catch up to it. I wouldn't put it past Australian buses to skip small stops, but it also sounded unlikely to me. By this point, I was super suspicious. I didn't really have time to think so it was a bad gut feeling, rather than any logical reasoning *(In hindsight, I question how she knew which bus number we wanted to catch and also how she knew the bus' route so well that she could follow it and try to 'catch up to it'?)*. With all politeness / smiles gone, I straight up just said no. I could tell my friend (who was about to get into her car before), was also starting to feel the heebie jeebies because she backed away from the road. The woman hesitated for a while - it lapsed into an awkward silence and I remember she kept glancing at her back seat. I remember holding my hockey stick tight and playing in my brain how I was going to defend myself. It honestly felt like forever before she finally drove away. A few minutes later the bus came and I had never been so relieved in my life. By this point, we were absolutely soaked. To this day I still don't know whether she was just a worried, good samaritan or a potential kidnapper. I flip between the two and I honestly can't decide. My friend also thinks it's a mystery and we don't know if we were just being paranoid.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jud8qf/a_worried_lady_or_a_female_kidnapper/

LetsNotMeet

thoughtfulbum

The White Dodge Truck Creeper

Okay, so this was about 2 and 1/2 years ago, I think. I’ve blocked it out because it was honestly so scary to me. My best friend and I were just driving around town around 11pm. Just taking random turns with no real destination. We were stopped at a stop sign and waiting for the truck to pass so we could go. As the truck passed we turned left so we were behind it. But this is where it all starts and our anxiety and fear raised. As we were behind the truck it pulled off to the right in front of a church. My friend and I continued to drive, thinking nothing of it. The church was on the block with 2 houses next to it.. (I think. I can’t exactly remember) We were about pass the church when the truck got back onto the road. We thought it was a little weird but ignored it. We stopped at the stop sign then went right, so did the truck. Then we just started to get a weird feeling. At the next stop sign we went straight. At the next block we turned right and went up the block, only to turn right again. The truck was still right behind us. We drove straight then drove down the road just before turning right again onto the block the church we had just passed minutes earlier was on. He had now taken three same turns, almost a full circle. So we took one more right to make a circle, and of course, there he was right behind us. At this point my friend and I are freaking out. As soon passed the church once again. My friend hit the gas. We blew through the stop sign. This time turning left instead of right. We were about 3 blocks from the main road and we blew every stop sign, as did the truck. Nobody was on the roads at this point in the night. As we finally got to the main road we didn’t stop at the sign and turned left, hitting the gas. We were going 80mph on a 55mph road. We looked behind us and there was the truck. Her and I were freaking out at this point, almost in tears. So this part is weird to explain... She took a right off onto a road to a small neighborhood and then we could’ve turned left or right but without thinking we hurried and took a left onto a road with about 4 houses on it. But the road we had turned onto continued to loop left, back to the main road. When she took that right the truck continued to drive on that road. We were almost relieved. ALMOST. When we realized the road we took would take us back to the main road we stopped. From where we were if we looked left we could see the main road a-crossed a small field. And low and behold we saw the truck driving slowly up on the main road. We could see the truck pull off the road and shut all of its lights off and sat there. It occurred to us that he knew the was only one way out. He was waiting for us to come up that road. We turned off our lights and hurried and turned around and drove straight, we weaved through all the houses and came out of the neighborhood on the other side. (This town has like two mains roads, it’s hard to explain) As we got to the other side we got on the other mains road, heading north. Because while he was following us we were heading south. We eventually got to Walmart where her car was parked so we could head to our houses. (She always drives my car because I don’t like driving) We just cried in my car before we got out and said our goodbyes. I live like a half hour away and she was only 10 minutes from her house. I was so terrified I would see that truck again. We don’t talk about it much. The fear that we felt was so weird. I haven’t felt anything like that since... We don’t know why the truck started following us and we probably never will. But these days we never know what goes through a sick persons head when they see two 16 year old girls driving around at 11 o’clock at night. So uh... guy in white truck.. Let’s Not Meet

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ju2sw7/the_white_dodge_truck_creeper/

LetsNotMeet

X_litpanda_X

[Meta] Classic stories links from old posts.

Hey everyone. I check in from time to time, & recently left these for another Redditor. This post isn’t to gain karma, trust me-it’s just to share stories a few might not have read. Do share your faves below. Happy reading everyone. Stay safe-Happy holidays & Happy New Year. https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/5s9lad/meta_any_classic_stories/ https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/8vv4e3/meta_classic_stories_ii/

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jtsifk/meta_classic_stories_links_from_old_posts/

LetsNotMeet

Sobadatsnazzynames

Scary Clown in Woods

I have been debating on posting this. Not because I have been scared but simply because this is my first post since joining Reddit. Please forgive my writing as sometimes my wording and punctuation could be better. I’ll start off by explaining the area so you can get a good picture of where this occurred. We lived in a small neighborhood. All of the surrounding streets dead end into a half circle park. Behind the park are some woods and a rail road track. When we were younger we all played in the front part of the woods. We never ventured too far back. This was our play area for years. Never had an issue or scare. This area was a pretty and well lit wooded area. Anyhow, one day my brother Jimmy, my best friend Sarah and my brothers best friend Ian, were all building a damn in the middle of the small creek that ran through the park and the woods. The boys decided they were going to head back to Ian’s house for some snacks. Sarah and I said we would stay and finish our “camp” area. As we are moving rocks around I get a very odd feeling come over me. A strange feeling that we are being watched. I immediately think it’s the boys trying to scare us and just continue with what we are doing. Sarah and I load up some big rocks and head back to the creek and put them down at the dam. I get that feeling again and as I stand up I see something straight in front of me about 30 feet away. I can’t clearly make out what it is yet because it is behind a bush but I do see that it is a pattern of red and blue. I know that’s nothing the boys had on so at this point I am focusing trying to figure out what it is. As I am scanning up the bush I start to realize it is a clown. I shit you not, my heart started pounding immediately. The clown and my eyes lock. He is wearing a blue/red hat with a reverse pattern red/blue jumpsuit. I grab Sarah’s shirt and immediately pull her upright and she notices the man right away. He is smiling with a full face of make up and has a huge knife. We both say nothing and start running as fast as our legs can take us. He begins to follow. We can hear twigs snapping and ground crunching. But we are booking it. We run through the front of the woods through the side of the park and up her dead end street. Ian and Jimmy are two houses up from the end and see us running and are screaming what is going on. While running past we scream a clown and they start laughing. We are still running screaming for our lives and finally make it to the middle of the street where Sarah’s dad Danny, is now running out the front door because he hears us screaming. We meet Danny right at the beginning of the neighbors house and we are trying to explain what we seen and he says “girls stop it now! This is ridiculous. What are you talking about?” We try to catch our breath. By this time Jimmy and Ian have caught up to us. We are crying and pointing and telling Danny again that we seen a clown and knife. Jimmy and Ian are laughing and Danny is asking if they played a prank on us. About this time an old yellow pinto type of car comes from the dead end at the park and pulls right up next to the sidewalk of the yard we are in. Sure enough.. plain as day.. it’s the fucking clown. No hat this time. But knife in hand and telling us to come here. Danny starts shoving us all toward the house and he himself is scared and running now. The car drives off down the street. We get inside and Danny calls the police. We had to give statements and police patrolled the neighborhood and the park for a few weeks. We were never allowed to go in the park again and a few months after that the city started to clear out the woods. Cut down many trees and made a walking area that you could see through all the way to the train tracks. My friend and I used to talk about this many times up until her death. No one would believe us had they not seen it as well. It was just so scary. I think they only got to see him because who ever it was had to go down the dead end street to leave the neighborhood. Either way this man was not afraid of us, nor the small group of people that gathered from our screaming. He very bravely stopped right in front of us as her father tried to comfort us and calm us down all while flashing his knife. We are lucky to be alive I feel. Had it just been one of us left in the woods, which sometimes occurred I don’t think there would have been a group of four of us any longer. Sarah’s dad stopped drinking that day. We all have a fear of clowns.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jtnpn7/scary_clown_in_woods/

LetsNotMeet

Alberta_FishBeDaName

Almost the victim of a hate crime.

I used to work as a housekeeper for this company that would assign me to different houses in the area that were hiring. I had this one job at a house that was just a few towns over one night. I was reluctant to go since it was late, but I knew an old back road that would cut the driving time in half. It used to be an old logging road, and there's tons of them here in Oregon that can be handy shortcuts to places. One downside was the road was small, windy, and if you got into a crash you'd basically be in the middle of nowhere surrounded by forest. I'm not sure it was completely legal to drive on either. So anyways I was driving down this road, groggy and tired, when I felt a small collision on my trunk. I cursed and pulled over to inspect the damage and talk to the driver, who had seemingly come out of nowhere. He pulled up behind me. I got out and walked over to him and asked if he was okay. I was about three feet from the car, and I could see him sitting in there, but he wasn't getting out. It was winter and night so everything was pitch-black and I could barely see anything, but I knew there was a figure there. It was freezing cold and I was getting creeped out, so I told him since there was barely any damage, I was just gonna go. As I was heading back to my car, I heard his door open behind me. I turned around and saw him standing there, he was tall and had on a large black coat and baggy jeans. I stepped towards him, and noticed something that made my heart sink. His hands were white-skinned, but his face looked dark. I squinted and realized he was wearing black makeup on his face. This scared me even more because I was thinking he was wearing blackface, and for the record I'm black, and he had followed me out here in the middle of nowhere to harm me. I turned and started for my car when I felt cold tip of the gun press the back of my head. I was ready to cry at this point, thinking I was gonna die alone out here because of my skin color. I ended up trying to reason with him, but I could barely choke out my words as I told him he didn't have to do this. Something surprising happened. The guy started to cry as well, and just then he jumped in his car and sped off. Maybe I should've tried to see the license plate, but at that moment I just got in my car, drove home, and called my parents. I never, ever in my entire life thought I'd narrowly escape from being the victim of what was possibly a hate crime. I'm glad this guy had a change of heart, or whatever you want to call his reasoning for sparing me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jsymbp/almost_the_victim_of_a_hate_crime/

LetsNotMeet

methhead__jerry

Janitor tried to kidnap me in Grade School

My story takes place in November 2004. I remember that specifically because George W. Bush had just won his second term as the US President. I was around 9 years old at the time. I am 25 years old now, yet this memory has always stayed vividly at the forefront of my mind. I can remember it like it was yesterday, and it still makes me so uneasy to think about. I’ve never spoken about it to anyone until now. It was a regular school day for me. It was the Friday before Thanksgiving break and our school gave us a whole week off for it. I was particularly excited for that weekend because my parents were allowing my best friend to stay over for the weekend. It’s all I could think about that day. I was a pick-up student. This meant that for me to leave the school, a relative or guardian had to be on their records with a signature in order to pick me up from school. I was too anxious to ride the bus, and I was much too anxious to walk home alone - despite living in a friendly, small town. That day, my grandma was supposed to pick me up from school. Both my parents were working late, so I was going to go to her house and my mom was gonna pick me up there after work. Well, you might be able to tell where this one is going to go. By the time school was out, my grandma is nowhere to be seen. I waited in the lobby for 30 minutes. By this point, it was empty... besides the janitor mopping the lobby floor. I was getting nervous my grandma forgot to pick me up, so I went up to tell the office lady that my ride never showed up. I was a nervous kid, and I didn’t know what was happening. The lady was really nice. She sat me down in the office, and tried calling my grandma. No luck. She tried calling my parents, who said grandma should have been there already. My mom said she reminded her this morning, and would try calling her. She was at work for a few more hours and couldn’t come get me yet. It was probably 4PM at this point, I had been at school an extra hour and I was really scared. I was all alone with the office lady, and I could tell she was frustrated. Everyone had already gone home, and she couldn’t get on with her week off because of me. At one point, the janitor walked into the office. It instantly smelled like cigarettes when he walked in. He stared right at me. He was a tall, husky man. Long, greasy brown hair, with a bit of a screwed up face and lopsided nose. That was the first time I had ever seen this man. I never had seen him round school before. Considering the small town I was from, it was weird I didn’t recognize him. His presence instantly made me nervous. I’ll never forget what he looked like. He struck up a conversation with the office lady. I remember this part clearly. He asked her what she was still doing here. She told him, and then nodded in my direction. He looked at me intently, and sat down next to me. I can still smell the cigarettes to this day. “Hey kid, bet you’re excited about Thanksgiving break. Bet you’re excited for family time. Me too. Listen, your grandmas place is on the way to my house. I know her, and your grandpa too. I’d love to give you a ride over there, I know right where it is,” he said to me. He continued, “I know it’s scary to feel lost. But I’d love to help you out.” He smiled at me. I looked over at the office lady. She looked gleeful that she wouldn’t have to wait another hour with me for my mom to get there. She said, “Why that would be great. My husband is waiting for me to get home now.” He stood up and said, “great.” Without my permission, he grabbed my hand, pulled me out of my seat and said, “let’s get going then. Grandma must be worried about you.” I shivered... I thought about what he said. He had said he “knew my grandpa too.” I didn’t have a grandpa. He had passed long before I was born, and divorced my grandma many years prior to that. I sat back down and shook my head without saying anything. He looked at me blankly, and the office lady looked disappointed. He walked out without saying anything. 5PM rolled around, and my mom finally showed up to get me. Turns out my grandma had forgotten to set an alarm and was sleeping the whole time. When I went to my moms car, I saw him again in the desolate staff parking lot, smoking a cig. He looked in our direction, got his truck and drove off. The thing that gives me shivers to this day is... he didn’t drive towards my grandmas house. He took a left out of the school, which would have taken you out of town and towards the city. The complete opposite of where he said he was going. I never saw him at school again. I had never seen him before that. I have cried thinking over this so many times. I remember I had nightmares for years where the office lady made him take me with him so she could go home sooner. I attribute this to my development of anxiety and paranoia later in life. So Mr. Janitor, let’s not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jsqs6e/janitor_tried_to_kidnap_me_in_grade_school/

LetsNotMeet

LOSTPOSITIVES

H

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15v57cq/h/

scarystories

damouse422

Im being hunted by something that sounds like me. Part2

hello is me again Its been a few days since I made my first post and I've found some info about what this thing could be, one it could be a skin walker two its some demon I've looked though the internet with keyword mimic, and nothing much came up maybe a few YouTube series about the concept but nothing to help me out, but the thing this thing can do is mimic voices and I've got a strange call from an unknown number. I let the phone ring for awhile until I picked up, immediately the guy spoke in a raspy whisper. Hello what ever you do don't listen to its lies don't interact with family friend at midnight don't let anybody in your home past 10PM.. then the line went silent I let out a small wtf and then walked back up to my room to watch tv, then I got other call from my friend telling me that the thing is back and is walking around the building calling her name as usual in my voice, I tell her to just lock herself in the office and don't draw attention I also instructed her to record the thing, she agrees then hangs up. and I've forgot to mention that the cam feed she sent me was corrupted thank god she sent me the file before that happened. anyway we are keeping this to ourself and never told anybody else, well its passed my bedtime its 11PM right now so I'll update you all if anything else happens. ​ Knock Knock. What was that. as I jolted awake from my sleep it was the front door I got creeped out from the knocking as I checked the time not even an hour passed by it was 12AM as I went downstairs to get some water, I went to check the door's peep hole and then I saw her my friend. all tho it was strange she didn't let out a sound not even a hello just stared at the door, until I remembered vividly the strange phone call I heard don't let anybody in passed 10pm, I quietly went back upstairs to check the cameras and just like my suspension predicted the camera was glitching just like the cam feed back at the office, that's when I call my friend up and tell her about what I seen she then told me that she also sees me on the cam waving at her, we both begin to panic as we don't know if these things can get in, CRASH.... the line goes dead as I heard my front door break down from its hinges, SHIT! I said in frustration as I heard it running up the stairs I ran and locked myself in a dark bathroom hoping it won't find me, I don't know what's happening or why its happening is this why people went missing here cause of these things if that's the case then im not going to be apart of it, all I can think off is if my friend is alright, morning came as I woke up in the bathroom with 88 missed calls from my friend, I got up straight away and called her the phone rang for a straight minute before she picked up. what the hell dalton I was worried sick I've been trying to call you right after the line went dead and after I got off work. I then talked and told her that one if those things broke down my door as I walked downstairs, to my shock the door was fine as I heard her laugh through the phone, I said what's so funny? she then talks, what do you mean broke down the door I'm right outside and your door seems fine. I ran to the window and sure enough she was outside in her car I felt relief and got dressed. as soon as I went into her car, she told me I looked pale that if I'm ok I then answered her saying ya just a long night, we then went to Dennys for breakfast as I didn't want to go to work today, we chatted well eating and I asked about her night, she told me as soon as my line went dead the thing in the building left like just disappeared I told her about my night and how that thing broke into my house and the fact it looked just like her, she then tells me why didn't I call her all night or day as I forgot what time it was 2PM I slept for more then the time I was suppose to, I told her I must have knocked myself out by falling or something the night was just a blur all I did was run as fast as I can into a dark bathroom, I didn't tell her about the phone call, then she told me that a home next door to hers was invaded and then the family that lived in it vanished like no trace of blood or anything just gone, I asked her do you think this has something to do with the creatures we encountered, she then said maybe, with no emotion once so ever like it was not to new news to her, I then asked her what was her favourite show as she spoke with food in her mouth huh its from why are you asking. I then breathed a sigh if relief, nothing its just that I was making sure you were still you I can't stop and think that we have clones? monsters of us trying to kill us. she then told me about her first time moved here she saw a little girl and boy who looked like twins she thought it was weird what the parents did every little time they went out they would drag them back into the house, one day she went over and asked if they could play at the park the parents were not home so they played but the girl didn't all she did was stare at the sky until my friend saw a black warm crawl in on her neck or inside her neck she then screamed and ran. the next day police were at the house and pulled out the body's of all the family one by one but the girls body was never found. that story chilled me to the bone I tell you was ready to shit my pants. I told her that's enough we should tell somebody, she replayed saying Who dalton the police or family tell them that oh the boogie man is after us? they will never believe us. we need actual proof not some glitchy camera footage with you flat out naked, I then said what then we wait until we get mentally worn out then they kill us? we then finished our food and I asked to be dropped off back home not cause I was tired It was cause I wanted to do more research and found out analog cams don't have anything that could cause glitching or blurs so I ordered one and some film for it which in total was 100 dollars with the cam and film. I then typed into my laptop missing people in my area dating from the 90s to the 2000s just like the story my friend told me about her childhood and her neighbours both went missing around the same time of the day 2PM other article popped up saying missing girl found dead in the woods this girl being the same girl that went missing in the 90s but her body being way more decayed then what her family were found in. I decided to make a wall chart connecting all the events tell I figure it out, that's when my tv started to static with an ear shattering noice I quickly went to turn it off. this happening in the middle of the afternoon? like ugh I don't know I feel like I'm going insane is this real all a dream I don't know I'll make other post but ya I just need a platform to tell my story, btw if you don't hear from me in a week or days then don't listen to anything I say or post from now on I have a felling whatever that thing will get me and take my place.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15v78rl/im_being_hunted_by_something_that_sounds_like_me/

scarystories

foxyFuntime124

The end

"Every day I come to the park and feed the birds, watch couples holding hands while kids ride on bikes followed by their dogs barking giving chase as a form of play, this is my sacrifice, my youth, my happiness, my sacrifice... But you know that already don't you?" Frank turns to the man sitting beside him who's feeding the birds also as he smirks and turns to Frank. "I know it all so well, you've said the same thing for the past sixty two years and sadly I must say, it's the same swan song I love to hear". Frank smirks himself and picks up a handful of seeds and scatters them on the ground. "Yeah, the same song I never get tired of singing, but you know what I see here? What I really see?" The man turns to Frank. "What do you really see Frank?". "I see the sacrifice of my youth, the life I could have had, the wife I would have spent my time with, the smiles I never worn, the chance to eat cotton candy and fly kites like these good people here..." The man looks down hanging his head and crosses his fingers into one another. "I figured you'd say that..." Frank drops the bag of seeds to his left on the bench and wipes a tear from his eye. "I see the life I never got, but what do I really get? Lonliness stamped on a badge of bravery, friends long since gone, a pain I can't shake and a hole in my heart that won't ever be filled... Ya know, someone once asked me, would I do it all again?... No I wouldn't". The man exhales heavily and slowly stands to his feet. "I know you wouldn't, you spent your life killing, giving orders that you passed down to hundreds of men that lost their lives in the war, you're one of the killers Frank..." Looking down. At his black polished shoes, Frank begins to cry softly remembering his friends he fought in the war with. "I never got the chance to smile for real, it was always just a mask to wear just so the rest of the world wouldn't see my sacrifice..." The man stretches for his hand. "Your sacrifice is recorded frank, it won't ever be forgotten, I promise you that, it will be remembered and echoed through life itself, to remind you of how guilty you are for killing so much and sending others to their own demise, that is your legacy Frank". Stretching out his own hand and takes grasp of the man's arm and pulls himself to his feet. "Where am I going?" The two slowly walk away from the park bench and into a darkness that appears not to far from them, Frank takes one last look back at the bench to see his body hunched forward and motionless and the man replies. "Hell..." The end.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15v7f9h/the_end/

scarystories

panterium

My parents always tied my younger sister to her bed, I found out why

A quick description on my family, we were always seen as a perfect family. My mom was at home while my dad worked as a doctor after getting his doctors at Harvard Medical School. They had me and my younger sister, Alyson and trust me, they got us to get good grades. My parents wanted us to go to college and become successful just like them. The only thing that was unusual was that my parents always tied and locked my sister in her bedroom every night. I found it quite frankly weird but never asked any questions because I didn’t want to seem rude. They always told me not to question my elders. My parents were going out for my dads birthday party in San Francisco and trusted me enough to not get a babysitter and to follow the same routine for my sister. Usually my parents had my aunt babysit us and do the whole bed thing, but she died a couple of months ago so there was really no other way. Now was my chance, I was gonna find out the truth. “Now honey, remember to tie her to bed before 9:30 PM, and lock the door.” My mother said to me before following my father, out the door. Then she turned to me with a straight face, “And do not, I repeat do not unlock that bedroom no matter what. Call us on the phone im the living room if an emergency.” That sent shivers down my spine. She never look unhappy, never the less scary. I turned the lock to the main door and then looked at my sister. The clock read 4:45 PM. Only 5 more hours. Once the clock hit 9:25, I told my sister to go brush her teeth and head to bed. Once she told me she was in bed, I ran upstairs to tied her to the bed. When I went into her room, I froze. All the walls were scratched up, the windows nailed shut, and all the furniture were gone. Except her bed. Just a single bed in the middle of a room. Of course this socked me because I’ve never gone into her room before. “Okay Ally, go ahead and lay down.” I told my sister. She laid down and I tied her up. How the hell could she possibly be comfortable? I left her room after but did not lock the door, I wanted to see if anything really happens. I went to my room shortly after and watched some TV to pass the time. Around 11:00 PM, I started hearing growling. I brushed it off as it could’ve been my Rottweiler, Peanut, growling at someone walking passed out front door. Then 12:00 AM hit. The growling grew louder and then I heard a door open. My sister’s bedroom door. What the fuck was she doing walking around 12 in the morning for? I could hear her go downstairs and thats when the growling stopped. Everything went silent. Then I could hear Peanut start whining. I got up from my bed and slowly opened my door. As I was walking down the stairs, I noticed a trail of blood go from the living room to the kitchen. Right next to the end of the stairs was the archway to the kitchen. I peaked my head into the archway to see Alyson eating something. Something bloody. “Alyson what are yo-“ I stoped dead sentence as Alyson turned around for me to see Peanut in her hands and mouth. She killed him and was eating him raw! I ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. I grabbed my cellphone and hid under the bed. I called my parents phone and waited for them to pick up. A minute went by and no response, so I called again, and again. I called 10 times and no response. Fuck. I was out of luck, then my phone buzzed. A random number? “Hello?” I asked “Oh god honey I’m so sorry. Both of our phones were dead, what wrong?” My mom responded “Mom I forgot to lock the door and now Alyson was just eating Peanut what do I do?” I asked “My god Blake! I knew you were to stupid, I want you to run to one of the bathrooms in the house and start running any faucet.” My mom responded “Wait why?” I asked “Just do it!” My mom said, now she had a deep, horrifying voice. “Okay, okay, sorry mom. But when will you be back?” “Well San Diego isn’t far from home so about a couple of minutes.” My mom said. San Diego? I thought it was San Francisco. Maybe they just changed plans. “Okay love you, please hurry.” I hung up. I ran to the closest bathroom which was the one in the study room, right next to the living room. Lucky Alyson wasn’t there. I ran the tub and the sink and just waited. Thats when I heard someone walking towards the door. “Who’s there?” I said. “Blake? Blake it’s mommy, you can come out now. Everything is safe.” Oh thank god it was my mom. I was going up to unlock the door. Then the living room cell began to ring. It went to voicemail and that was when I heard my mom on the phone. “Hey Blake, it’s mom. Sorry I didn’t get your call, I lost my phone. Me and your father are leaving San Francisco now, It’ll take a couple of hours so please follow these rules. 1. Don’t pick up any unknown numbers, Ally can trick you. 2. Dont make any noise especially through the pipes, she can hear pretty clearly. 3. Lastly, do not listen to any voices, they aren’t us.” The message ended. I fortunately didn’t open the door yet. “BLAKE OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR NOW!” I could hear what must’ve been Alyson but sounded demonic. She banged on the door for hours and all I did was sit down near the door and waited, crying and sitting in my own pee. Thats when I heard a huge gunshot. It rung in my ears. The door opened and there was my parents. I hugged them tightly and said I was so sorry. They didn’t say anything but just cried. “Mommy, Daddy what happened to Ally?” I asked “We have no clue. Even my team couldn’t come up with an answer.” My dad said. “It started when she was around 5, she would just bite us then it turned into eating alive animals. Then around 7 she tried to kill us. We didn’t want to scare you so we didn’t tell you. Im so sorry honey.” My mom explained “Well we have to make this look like an accident” my dad said. We all cleaned up the scene and made it look like a suicide. We also wrote a letter about how Ally felt pressured and wanted to end it because of it. Everyone believed it and now that’s a little family secret, well until now. I feel guilty and Im sick of lying. I need to come clean. The voices are growing louder and I wanna put my self out there before I leave this earth. Goodbye, tell my mom and dad I love them.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15ueh2s/my_parents_always_tied_my_younger_sister_to_her/

scarystories

Sav_reddit

Tim hates us

We lived in this house that our father had bought on a deal that he and my mother couldn't pass up on, it was a three storey house with a full wide basement and a garage the size of the half the house, plenty of room for my sister and brother to play and also a driveway big enough for my basketball net where I would play with the friends I made in the neighborhood. There would be times they would call my house the "killers house" or "murder house". I heard all the stories and so did the rest of my family but we never been into that whole thing since we were all grown as atheist, ghosts and all those kind of things never scared or bother us, after a year of not seeing or hearing anything happen in that house, what was there to be afraid of? One night as we all sat down at the livingroom eating our dinner while watching tv, everything seemed to be pretty normal, we laughed, horseplay on the couches while our parents sat with their devices in their hands watching us jump on one another and my father would jump in and toss my younger siblings on the couch, and just by one loud sudden crash that came from the master bedroom, the laughter stopped just like that... We all looked at eachother in silence as my father slowly got up and nudged his head towards me "grab the bat" as he grabbed an iron fire poker, telling my siblings and mother to stay downstairs while we went to inspect what was happening. As we approached the bottom of the stairs we heard another crashing sound followed by a loud scream coming from a male's voice, my heart stopped as my father just seemed to grow furious thinking it might have been a robber who climbed the side of the house and crept into the window looking for something to steal. More sounds of things being thrown across the bedroom hitting the wall along with a grunting and an almost painful gasp. We climbed the stairs ready to swing our weapons at any moment at whoever was in our house. When we got to the top of the stairs, my father in front, he looks at me and nodes his head while mouthing the words "on three, one... Two... THREE!!!" We charged into the bedroom expecting to find a burglar but all we found was smashed picture frames and my mom's collectable antique shelf. We walked around the shattered glass peeking into the bathroom and behind the curtains but nothing was found, my dad looks at me and shrugs his shoulders while I poked my bat around the floor pushing glass aside and then it happened again... But this time... From the living room where my mother and siblings were. We hear their screaming while the sound of glass smashing is heard throughout the entire house, my dad and I ran down the stairs as quick as we could while at the ready to swing at the "intruder" but no one was there to be seen... We find my mother holding the kids huddled in the dining room corner as my dad and I looked to see the tv smashed and the glass coffee table smashed outward, like something literally went under the table and smashed it which was weird. "Who was it?! Who was in here!?" My dad asking my mother who's shaking vigorously with a pale look on her face not saying a word. Seeing the look of anger on my dad's face was something else, he wanted to catch who was doing this but I started to think to myself that maybe this person or thing couldn't be caught, I look at my dad and his anger turns to confusion as he turns to look at me, I knew at that moment we both thought the same thought of what was really happening here. I turn to look at my younger brother who is just crying harder than he ever has while my little sister was calm as still waters, I kneel down trying to calm my brother down as I see my sisters hand raise up slowly, I turn to look and see her pointing at the far corner of the livingroom and I whisper "what? What is it?" I stand up grabbing my bat and see my dad scratching the back of head looking confused, I see just over his shoulder and look toward the corner between the window and where the tv was and I gasp, not a normal gasp but... Well it felt like the breath was taken right out of my lungs when I seen it. I nudge my dad's leg with my bat and he turns towards me "what! What is it?" And I point my bat toward the corner of the livingroom, he looks over his shoulder and by then... It was visible to all of us. A tall man standing in the corner of the room, like a shadow, its entire body reach from the floor to nearly the top of the ceiling giving off a dark shade of shadow, my dad drops the fire poker and quickly grabs my siblings and mother and pushes them towards the front door which was just around the corner where they stood, I try and catch my breath as I see this shadow figure swiftly dart across the room and makes a sort of a loud sighing sound. My dad grabs me by the shirt and pulls me toward the door but just as we were about to run outside to safety, this thing lets out a loud exhale of breath and grabs my brother by the wrist, I could see his hand lifting and soft of being pulled as I see his feet on the floor being dragged toward this shadow as he resisted while screaming at the top of his lungs. I quickly use my whole body weight and sort of tackle my brother under his arm as my dad pulls open the door with all his strength and we manage to run outside to the driveway. My brother crying so hard he can't catch his breath while my father and mother holding my siblings trying to comprehend what had just happened, I stood up and look through the livingroom window and see this shadow, tall shadow darting from room to room as it screams and smashes what picture frames that hang on the wall. I turn toward my family as this thing suddenly stops at the window and looks at us, I look back and could barley see it but the dark shaded outline of it is still visible, my sister steps besides me and holds my hand, still calm as ever... Eerily calmer than she should be. She looks up at me with no expression at all and tugs on my hand "Tim hates us..."

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15uj9z5/tim_hates_us/

scarystories

panterium

please share your paranormal stories here!

hey! i’m trying to start up a tiktok platform all about the paranormal, specifically about personal, inexplicable, weird or scary experiences. i’d really appreciate it if you could share some, in as much detail as you would like, and i’ll be sure to credit you if and when i share it! if you don’t feel comfortable sharing publicly and you’d like to remain anonymous, my email is [email protected]. (please include your tiktok handle so i know who to credit!) if you’re interested, my tiktok is @heretic.or.heathen. thank you for taking the time to read this and stay safe out there! 👻🔪x tiktok handle link: https://www.tiktok.com/@heretic.or.heathen?_t=8ewzMe0Meg4&_r=1

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15uxlu1/please_share_your_paranormal_stories_here/

scarystories

hollie_iscool

Shadows’ Lament - FIRST DRAFT

SHADOWS' LAMENT By Matthew Ryan (FIRST DRAFT NOTES : I wanted to write a short, dark, fairy tale that would flow off the tongue and rhyme. In this short form it is definitely more like a poem. I will definitely be working on another draft as well as a longer version. MY INSPIRATION: I was definitely inspired by The Brothers Grimm - back before fairy tales became fun, fantastical, stories of morality aimed at children they were actually quite creepy and not meant for children. I decided to take this project to the Eras that came before “…happily ever after.” DEAR READER: Please be as critical as you can be. I’d like your honest thoughts on this piece of work. Again, this is a short - first draft. You may notice some repeating of words because I really wanted to get my first Reddit Story up as fast as possible. CONTACT ME: If you’d like to assist in possibly helping out w the graphics eventually w this project or another. I’m always looking to Co-Author a project - I can talk horror, literature, and creative ideas all day. PLEASE ENJOY!! I can’t wait to see what you think. I can’t wait to post some more short material for you guys and gals to critique.) In an asylum forsaken, where shadows did creep, A psych ward stood, secrets buried deep. Its halls whispered secrets, its walls oozed with dread, A realm of despair where the sane feared to tread. Young Emily, brave and curious, stepped through its door, Her lantern a beacon 'midst shadows that roared. She sought to unravel its eerie unknown, To face demons and specters, all twisted and prone. The corridors twisted, a labyrinth of gloom, Where whispers grew louder, a symphony of doom. In flickering light, a ghostly nurse wailed, Her eyes pools of darkness, her presence unveiled. Next, a sinister warden, a demon in guise, With keys made of bone and a wicked demise. He cackled and taunted, his laughter a snare, As Emily raced on, her heart pounding with care. A nursery appeared, spectral babies in cribs, With eyes that glowed red, like malevolent fibs. A lullaby echoed, both haunting and sweet, Yet its melody masked the impending defeat. Shadow figures danced, cast by moon's eerie glow, Whispering secrets of pain and woe. They beckoned to Emily, their fingers like claws, Her courage waned, but she'd dare not pause. In a room full of mirrors, reflections all wrong, Her own twisted visage sung a siren's dark song. A demonic doppelgänger grinned wickedly there, As Emily's soul quivered in utter despair. As dawn's light approached, Emily reached the grand hall, Where a figure stood waiting, both sinister and tall. He wore a dark suit, his face veiled in gloom, A deal to be made, sealing Emily's doom. With a voice like a serpent, he promised her power, Riches and fame, every longing would flower. In fear and temptation, she nodded assent, Unknowing the trap, the demon had sent. The twist, my dear reader, the lesson not learned, Was the folly of craving, how hearts can be burned. Emily thought power would bring her delight, But the shadows consumed her, a never-ending night. In that modern-day asylum, the lesson was plain, Desire's sweet whispers, like an alluring bane. Beware the dark promises, tempting and cruel, For in seeking great power, you may play the fool. And so, in that psych hospital, darkness did thrive, A tale of temptation, where shadows connive. Emily's fate sealed, her soul lost to the dark, A lesson for all, though it comes as a stark, A warning, dear reader, to heed and beware, Lest your deepest desires lead you to despair. (THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMMENTS/LIKES/ADDS - MUCH MORE MATERIAL COMING SOON)

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15uugm2/shadows_lament_first_draft/

scarystories

MatthewRyan-Author

The Hill

This is my first story ever, I hope you all like it I live in a small town in the mountains and not just your average small. There are just over 100 people in my "city" and I have seen maybe 20 of them. It's about a 30 minute drive in any direction to reach any sort of real civilization and there is only one road that connects us to any neighboring area. I just recently got a job working overnight in one of these cities and things have been going ok, but there is one thing to note. The drive to work is fairly dangerous. Living in the mountains has its ups and downs (no pun intended) but the biggest problem about being so secluded is that they don't take care of the roads. There are massive potholes and big stretches of bumpy patched pavement. Additionally there is no shoulder to pull off to if you have an emergency, just ditches and large drops. To top it all off there is a TON of wildlife that just walk into the streets at night. From raccoons to possums, coyotes and deer there's never a night where I don't have to stop for something crossing in the dark. This turns my 30 minute drive into a 40 minute one easily. One night as I was getting ready for work I was struggling particularly bad with my ADHD. I was leaving things all over the house and struggling to remember to finish tasks that I needed done before I left for work, like my laundry with my work uniform that was still sitting in the washer. My coffee that had finished dripping about 10 minutes ago that I had forgot even existed and my eggs that were now beginning to burn as I sat there staring at the pan the whole time just lost in thought. I was finally able to get everything sorted. with my clothes now drying, I sat there drinking my cold coffee and eating my slightly burnt eggs while doom scrolling social medias and getting lost in my mind once again. I finished my meal and put my shoes on hoping the worst was over. I threw my dishes in the sink, grabbed my keys and headed out the door to my car. I know I had to be careful now, spacing out and burning my eggs is one thing but if I do it while driving it could have way worse consequences. The last thing I needed was to hit a deer or drive myself off a cliff simply because I wasn't paying attention. I sat in the drivers seat collecting my thoughts for a few minutes and trying to reign myself in while trying some meditation techniques I saw on Tik Tok. Once I was confident that I could make the drive without losing myself I started my car and took off out of the driveway. It was weird driving while at full attention, I noticed houses that I had never paid mind too, a few churches that I had completely missed before and even a rock quarry that I had no idea existed. I had somehow completely blocked all of these things out before but it was kind of nice, it felt like a brand new road. By this point I was about half way through the drive and I hadn't drifted into my mind even once. I was feeling pretty good, maybe I should try meditating more often. Then it dawned on me..... I left my work uniform in the dryer...... I was so worried about losing focus while driving that I forgot THE most important thing I needed for work. I only had one option at this point and it was to go home and get my uniform. I had to drive for another 5 minutes or so before I could turn around but on the bright side I was approaching my favorite part of the drive. It was a long flat stretch of road that ran right through the center of a small town called Evans that was surrounded on all sides by tree covered mountains. The long flat road reminded me of where I grew up, it was the flattest place you've ever seen but I loved it. The drive Through Evans was very calming to me and coincidentally it was the only place to turn around after I left my house. I continued driving and before I knew it I was approaching Evans. I also realized that I had spaced out for the full 5 minutes leading up to it. I was disappointed with myself, I was doing so well the entire drive but forgetting my uniform at home must have just threw me off. At the very edge of Evans closest to my house there was a small mechanic shop that I pulled into to try and meditate a little and turn around. I was doing too well at keeping my focus, I can't let it end now. After a little bit of deep breathing I started heading home and all I could think about was how stupid I was for leaving without my uniform. Then it dawned on me, I was spacing out again and I had literally just stopped to focus myself. I stopped the car just outside of Evans to do some deep breathing once again and I noticed something strange. I was at the bottom of a very steep large hill that I have no memory of at all but I have to have been here before. I literally can't have avoided it. There is only one road that leads to my house and the only other way to work takes me an hour out of the way. I know my attention is bad but to have missed this massive hill for months seemed impossible to me. I sat there taking in this hill for a while, it was lined on both sides with trees and there was a single street light at the base. There was something odd about this place though, it was almost pitch black past the light. There should have been more light than this, it wasn't a full moon but most of it was illuminated and I could see everything else around me pretty well with just the moonlight. I didn't have time to sit at the bottom of this hill all night though, so I started to drive thinking about how stupid I was for leaving my stuff in the dryer and before I knew it.... the hill was gone. I looked in my rear view mirror and sure enough, the hill was already behind me. What in the hell is going on?! There is absolutely no way I drove straight up that thing and missed it again. I made a mental note of a tiny disheveled hut I saw in my rear view as I was driving away so I could remember to stop on my way back and get a better look at this place. There's no way I'd forget that dump of a hut, it was practically destroyed. I was so focused on the run down hut that I was home before I knew it. I bolted into my house to throw on my uniform and rushed back out to my car. As I made my way back along the road all I could think about was the hut. The house, The churches and even the rock quarry took a backseat to this hill. I was so focused on it that I tuned out everything on the drive there that I noticed earlier. I continued down the road and before I knew it I had arrived at the small town of Evans..... No, there's absolutely no way this is happening. I drove straight past the hut and the hill again like it wasn't even there, but I was looking for it the whole time. I slammed on my breaks and came to a screeching halt right out in front of the mechanic shop and pulled in to turn around. I stopped for a second to focus up, something weird is happening and I needed every bit of my attention to figure it out. As I sat there replicating the meditation techniques from this morning that seemed to help the front door of the shop opened. Out of the shop walks this scruffy older man who begins heading up to my car. I roll down my window to see what he wants, he tells me he's the owner of the shop and he asks me if everything is alright. I didn't want him to think I was some sort of lunatic for being obsessed with this massive hill that I was sure everyone else knew about but me so I told him that I thought I left something at home and I stopped to turn around and get it. He stares at me with a look of confusion before telling me that he already saw me turn around once and he thinks it's best if I just keep going. An immediate wave of fear hit me, was he watching me?! I nervously agreed with him and told him to have a good night as I drove off in a hurry. I stopped at a gas station up the road, partially to get gas but mainly to wait out a few minutes before turning around. I know I was going to be late to work but I just NEEDED to check out this hill. After filling my car with gas and sitting inside it for about 10 minutes I hopped back on the road and headed for the hill. I normally don't speed but I didn't want the shop owner to see me going back so I was flooring it. I glanced over as I passed his shop and there he was...... watching me tear past his shop headed back in the direction of the hill. I felt like a little kid disobeying his parents and getting caught, I was mortified but I kept going anyway. It was too late to turn around now and unless I did it in the middle of the road which I didn't like to do the only other place I could do it was my house. My mind began to race frantically thinking about the shop owner watching me. I could feel myself begin to space out so I hit the breaks and came to a stop..... and there it was, the hill that I so desperately wanted to find. I stared at this hill for a minute or two, I was overwhelmed with paranoia at the thought of getting out to explore it. I was so worried that I decided to turn my car around. I pulled over as far as I could but more than half of my car was still in the street. I proceeded to get out but I left the engine on and the door ajar just in case I needed to leave in a hurry and made my way toward the street light. I stopped about twenty feet from the light and just stared past it. The yellow glow of the streetlight barely penetrated the creeping darkness that shrouded the hill. I pulled my phone out to turn on the flashlight and as I was pulling up the app something caught my attention. I could smell something strange, it was like roses, ceder and honey but there was something foul about it like a tinge of rotting meat hanging in the air. I started to get a little light headed and my stomach became queasy but I tried to shake the feeling. I turned on the light from my phone and began to make my way past the light and toward the hill. Almost immediately after the passing the street light the dim yellow glow had faded. The darkness was so intrusive that the light on my phone was virtually useless as well. I continued onward trying my best to take in my surroundings but I could hardly see anything further than thirty feet away without shining my phone directly on it. After walking for a bit I began to realize just how steep this hill actually was, my legs were already burning and I had only made it about two hundred feet up. I pushed forward regardless but the deeper in I went the stronger that weird odor was and the more nauseous and light headed I became. I wanted to make it to the top of the hill and check out that hut I saw as I was driving home but I don't think I can make it all the way up this thing. I gathered what little constitution I had left and kept pushing forward. I was maybe five hundred feet in now and by this point I was already spent. My legs were starting to buckle and the smell was so intense that I was choking back the urge to gag. I was approaching a bend in the road that I was desperately hoping was the top of the hill. As I began to round the corner I could see that there was no end in sight. I couldn't keep going, I decided to stop and look around for a bit before turning back though. As I stood there taking in my surroundings I could see something move at the edge of the road not far ahead. Instantly I remembered the shop owner and how he had been watching me. Had he followed me up here, and if so how did he get ahead of me without being seen or heard? There's no way, it couldn't possibly be him. It has to be one of the animals out here just crossing the street. I turned my phone toward the edge of the road expecting to see a deer or at worst a coyote but when the light found my target It wasn't anything I had ever seen in my life. Whatever this thing was it was MASSIVE, I stood there staring completely frozen as a cold chill ran up my spine. I could feel every hair on my body stand up all at once as my legs began to shake. My brain was telling me to run but I couldn't, I was paralyzed with fear and all I could do was stand there and stare at this thing on the side of the road. With the light from my phone I could just make out what I was looking at. Whatever it was it was kneeling down facing away from me and appeared to be eating something. It had the shape and build of a large muscular dog but it was easily 7 feet tall and about as wide as my car. There was no visible fur on it, just pale milky white skin with dark patches that I thought was dirt at first but after a moment it looked more like rotting bits of flesh. I could hear the crack of bones and the ripping of meat from whatever it was eating. My eyes wandered down to the ground in front of this thing to see what was unlucky enough to be its meal for the night but I wish I hadn't. I could just barely see it but on the ground in front of the creature was a human body, completely mangled and lying in a pool of blood. Pure unadulterated terror enveloped me and I could feel a lump in my throat as I bent over and the entire contents of my stomach violently rushed out onto the road. I let my head hang there as the taste of vomit slowly dissipated before it dawned on me that not only had I made my presence know by loudly spewing chunks in the dead silence of night but I had also looked away from this thing that was chowing down on a body not even 40 feet away from me. I slowly lifted my head and as I did I could see this creature was no longer preoccupied with it's previous meal and was now sitting down facing in my direction with its front side in full view. It had a long thick neck that held up a very large canine shaped head that sported long oily black human hair with no eyes or ears and it was covered in the same pale rotting flesh as the rest of its body. There was something even more odd, I could see lumps on the top of it's head near the hair but I couldn't make out what they were. As I stood there hunched over taking in this living nightmare it began to tilt its head down exposing the bumps on its skull revealing a face.... a human face. The expression on it was imprinted into my brain in an instant. I had the most haunting smile I had ever seen, it was an unchanging and almost pained expression that was being masked with a fake jovial smile with closed eyes that reflected this same sad yet joyful look. I began to stand upright very slowly in an attempt to not antagonize this..... monster..... and as I stood fully upright I began to back away as carefully as possible but as I took my second or third step I could see the creatures blood stained canine jaws begin to snarl exposing a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. It rose to it's feet and began to lift its head back up before crouching down almost as if it were going to pounce at me. It was in this moment that I had noticed that this thing didn't have paws at the end of its front legs but instead it had human shaped hands with long slender fingers. It cocked its head back before jutting it back out and letting loose the most ghastly noise I have ever heard. It was a low deep roar at first but was almost immediately accompanied with what I could only describe as hundreds of hollow human screams. Before it even had the chance to finish its hellish scream I dropped my phone, turned and bolted down the hill for my car. I was sprinting with everything I had in me, powered by fear and the sheer steepness of the hill I felt like I was flying. My heart was pounding harder than it ever had in my life, it was as if someone was playing a drum on my chest and all I could hear was my heart beating in my head. My mind was racing faster than my legs going over and over the shop keepers words "it's best if you just keep going" like he knew this thing was up here and thinking about my car that I had left running just in case. All I had to do was make it to my car. For a brief moment I had forgotten about what was chasing me...... was it chasing me? I glanced over my shoulder for a split second to see if maybe somehow I lucked out and it didn't follow. I was wrong...... so so very wrong. Not only was it behind me but I could see its haunting unchanged expression from the face on the top of its head staring me down as it was gaining on me. I could feel a rush of adrenaline as my legs began to move even faster and I could swear that for a moment my feet weren't even touching the ground and that I was actually running on air. Then I began to feel my legs begging to struggle to keep up with my momentum and I began to stumble. I had to do something, I can't keep this pace up and if I fall this monstrosity would be on me in an instant. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I turned toward the guard rail at the side of the hill, regained my footing and leapt over the edge. The ground disappeared from beneath me and then I realized just how far the drop actually was. There was no going back now though and I stood a much better chance of surviving the fall than I did of outrunning the nightmare entity that was chasing me. The ground began to close in as I attempted to prepare myself for the impact. I relaxed my body and tried to land in a way where I would roll and hopefully not break my legs. As I hit the ground on the side of the hill I threw myself sideways but instead of rolling I smashed into the ground and began to rag doll. After a couple seconds of being thrown end over end I smashed sideways into a tree and came to an abrupt stop as the wind was knocked out of me. I laid there gasping for air and frantically scanning the road, praying that the beast hadn't followed me and I was in luck. It hadn't even crossed the guard rail but instead it sat down on the edge of the road and stared at me with that closed eyed face almost as if it were taunting me. After lying on the ground next to the tree that I had just become best friends with I was finally able to catch my breath. Evey inhale was agony though and I was pretty sure I had broken some ribs if not all of them and I was covered in cuts, scrapes and bruises but I was alive at least. I slowly clambered to my feet, keeping my eyes fixed on the terrifying monster on the road above me I began to make my way towards my car. I inched along in the woods as the behemoth stood up and followed me, keeping pace with my every step like a predator stalking a dying animal and that's exactly how I felt at this moment. I staggered along the forest for what felt like hours, my eyes locked with my aggressors and even though they were closed I could tell it was staring back at me. Eventually I could see a dim yellow glow out of my peripheral vision and I knew it was the street light, I was almost to my car! There was the problem of my possibly broken ribs though, I couldn't outrun this thing before and there is no way I could now. Maybe I didn't have to though, this thing hasn't left the road the entire time and I was starting to think it just couldn't leave the hill at all. Or that was the hope anyway. The closer I got to the end of the road the more nervous I became. What if I was wrong and this thing only stayed on the road because it couldn't fit between the trees or maybe the drop was too big. It didn't really matter I guess because if it wasn't bound to the road this atrocity would come for me the moment it had the chance. I was only about forty feet from the street light and could hear my car running. The trees that may have been the only thing keeping me safe ended at the street light and from there it was about fifty feet to my car. The engine was on and the door was still open so all I had to do was hop in and floor it. I stopped a few feet from the edge of the woods and waited for a minute, partially from fear and partially to see what this abomination that was stalking me was going to do. It still hasn't looked away from me and it was still following my every step. After a couple of minutes of waiting it began to sit down and without a moment of hesitation I took off running. This was my best chance and this thing was certainly just going to wait me out. I sprinted out past the tree line as the pain from my ribs almost made me collapse but I had to keep going. I looked over to the road fully prepared to see this thing barreling down at me but it hadn't moved an inch...... it just sat there with its pale grim face following me..... but I wouldn't dare stop. I finished the sprint to my vehicle, jumped in, threw the car in drive and slammed the pedal down to the floor. With my tires screeching I looked in my rearview mirror and it was still sitting there just outside of the glow of the street light watching me drive off. With the living nightmare now out of view I was safe again and speeding towards the town of Evans. I was in pretty rough shape and needed to go to the hospital but I fucking made it! I let out a sigh of relief before yelling and cheering, slamming my hands against the steering wheel with joy. I MADE IT! I MADE IT! Evans was in sight and I was so ecstatic to be out of that hell but then I remembered the owner of the mechanic shop which was just up ahead. I looked over as I was blazing past and there he was. Standing outside the front door he was watching me drive by and before I was out of view I could see him gesture. With one finger over his lips I could tell all he did was say "Shhhhh." From that day on I took the only other road from my house to work and even though it added an extra 2 hours to my drive every day I refused to go back. I never saw the small town of Evans, that mechanic shop, the owner or that hill ever again.... and if I'm lucky.... I never will. -T.R.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15ul1ec/the_hill/

scarystories

MyWakingNightmares

Empty Bags: a short, personal essay about the life, death and philosophy of my friend, Junkin

I just want to let it be stated before I start that Jethro Jenkins, better known to me as Junkin, was one of the best friends I ever had, and it makes me sad he's dead, but that's not why I decided to write this essay. What I want to write about is who Junkin was and the meaning of his death, because most people will say that life is about finding your talent or about doing better than others or finding comfort in things, and that's about as far removed from Junkin's philosophy of life as you can get. I just wanted to let that be known so that it can be kept in mind as I tell the rest. I first met Junkin during the trampin days. He wasn't a tramper though but a railroamer, by which I mean a free hopper, someone who got around the country on trains without paying, or what today you might call a vagrant or a tramp or a bum. He didn't have any things except those on his back and in his trampin sack, which he called Gizmo, and he sure as hell didn't want them. He had one book, the Bible, and a harmonica which he played when he was alone. I was young then, orphaned you might say, hunger pained and cowering from just about everything, and Junkin helped me get on my own two feet. He taught me how to look for food, where to find shelter, how to keep warm and dry, and how to avoid the realnasties. He did this because he loved people, not because he got anything material out of it, and he helped a lot of people in his time. Some of them went off their own ways but a lot stayed, riding the rails with him awhile or meeting up once in a meantime to hear Junkin give his speeches, which he called sermons, and which reached quite a popularity during the Depression. The sermons were largely lessons from the Bible, except Junkin didn't tell them like a preacher but like a friend, and he always emphasized that the worth of a man was measured not in what he achieved but what he could have achieved but didn't, because achievement was always measured against fellow men, and to be better than your fellow was a sin. I said earlier that many people believe life to be about finding what you're good at and doing it. Junkin called this the False Idol of Talent. He believed that rather than be worshiped, talents should be suppressed because they were weaknesses through which the Devil made you lust for domination and the humiliation of others. Talent offered false triumph, by which he meant triumph over others, rather than the true kind, being triumphant over your own imperfections. I tell you this not because I want to spread Junkin's philosophy but because you need to understand it to understand the significance of the two events in Junkin's life I'm about to tell you about: the raising of the Capital Railway Company, and the death of Jethro Jenkins, both of which were decidedly not as reported in the Kansas City Chronicle by the liar, Will Morrissey. The raising of the Capital Railway Company was the most shameful moment of Junkin's life. It involved a strike by the railwaymen of the aforementioned company, one of the three largest in the country at the time, and the decision by its leadership to break the strike by sending mercenary troops in armored train cars to open fire on the workers at every strike location in America. It was to be a brutal, coordinated and decisive attack that would not only end the strike but strike the fear of Capital into the hearts of all future labor leaders. Needless to say, this did not happen. According to the account of Will Morrissey and others of his ilk, what kept the bloodshed from happening was a sudden and mass failure of the company's railway equipment. They would have you believe that by some mix of socialist sabotage and sheer bad luck, none of the armored cars reached their destinations and all were destroyed. That is not a misreading. That is the news itself, which you can read in the Kansas City Chronicle, archived on microfiche at the Kansas City City Library, and similar newspapers from around the country. What actually happened is this: when Junkin heard about the mercenaries in the armored train cars, for the only time during which I knew him, he lost his temper. He took his harmonica and went off to sit by himself and play, but instead of the peace usually caused by his music, there spread across the sky an anger and a vengeance. We all felt it. It was like a rain of drought, or a fog of ash, or a stumbling at night into a field of cabbages where each head of cabbage was a man's head, wilting, and with rotting voices they all hissed the same horrible word, "Wrath," upon whose upward force all of the Capital Railway Company's railway cars rose into the sky above America, and don't ask me how but *we saw them all*—before plummeting back down to Earth, utterly destroyed. When next I saw Junkin, he was on his knees weeping and praying to God to forgive him for the despicableness of having lost control and given in to the Devil's temptation. The Capital Railway Company never recovered from the catastrophic loss of most of its assets and soon after collapsed. The second event I want to tell you about may seem less dramatic, but to me it is much more significant. It is the death of Jethro Jenkins (reported by Will Morrissey in the Kansas City Chronicle under the headline "Vagabond Dead After Beating Over Empty Sack" with usual disregard for factual accuracy.) It transpired outside a railway yard where Junkin and I had been scavenging for discarded parts. We were sitting then, sharing a stale quarter-loaf of bread when three realnasties confronted us. They had sticks with nails hammered through them and were threatening to use the nailed ends on us. After demanding our bread, which Junkin willingly handed over, they told us to give up everything else we had. The problem was we had nothing else except the rags on our backs, the boots on our feet and Gizmo, in which Junkin kept his harmonica and Bible, and Junkin told them so, but either they didn't believe us or were otherwise offended because one of them whacked Junkin on the head with his stick. I got up, but Junkin motioned for me to sit. "Fellows," he said, "why do you turn to violence? You've come to us for a sharing and we've shared with you everything we have. You ask for more, but we've nothing more to share." "What's in the bag?" one of them barked. "The Good Book and a harmonica," said Junkin calmly, wiping blood from his cheek. "Do ya believe him?" one of the realnasties asked the others. "Don't," answered another. "Bet sure as Hell they got money and pornographies in there," said the third. "Toss it here," said the first realnasty, meaning Junkin's bag. Junkin did. The realnasty tore through it, then in disgust threw first the harmonica then the Bible into the dirt, and spat and stomped on both. Then, as if he knew what was about to happen, Junkin turned to me and, smiling, said, "Be at peace with it, Norm," and before I could grok the meaning, one of the nail sticks got him in the head, followed by another in the ribs. He fell over, wheezing. The realnasties grabbed him by the hair and pulled him across the dirt, leaving a trail of upturned earth. There was a fury in these men, a fury I cannot properly describe but that caused a chill in me because it was alien, daemonic. They surrounded him and beat him without mercy, and all the while I didn't raise a hand to help him, and he did not raise a hand to help himself, and after a period of the pounding of the nail sticks he didn't move and I knew that he was dead. The realnasties stood over him a minute, breathing heavily, covered in his blood and in their own hot sweat, before scattering. There was a thick dust in the air and they disappeared into it. When they were gone I crawled towards him and cradled his pulped body in my shaking arms. He had been one of my best friends. He had saved me, and God I loved him. He, who had raised a railway company into the air and wrecked it, had let himself be killed, and in the former was his shame and in the latter his supreme triumph over his own sublime abilities. He was a man, if that is what he was. At some point I looked over at where the realnasties had torn open Gizmo. The harmonica was still on the ground, shattered by a realnasty boot, but the Bible had disappeared. Although I am not one to propose interpretations I couldn't help but feel that something then had changed, and if there'd been a God, and He was present, now, though He may still endure, His spirit no longer dwelled among us. Sometime after his death I learned that Junkin's legal name was Jethro Jenkins, that he was the firstborn son of an oil magnate and heir to a family fortune that he renounced one day by leaving his home and never coming back. I will leave it to you to decide whether that means anything, everything or nothing at all. I will also leave you with this: *A bag is judged not by what's in it but by how much it can carry. Whether empty or full, its capacity does not change. Some bags are small and filled with money. Others are empty but large enough to carry the entire world.* Once I saw a bag lifted by the wind. Light, it danced. And the wind—the wind carries us down the road.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15uit6u/empty_bags_a_short_personal_essay_about_the_life/

scarystories

normancrane

Hi guys, i just want to listeb a quick, scary stories because I need some creep in my body.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15urfnu/hi_guys_i_just_want_to_listeb_a_quick_scary/

scarystories

Repulsive_Aspect_913

Im being hunted by something that sounds like me. Part1

My name is (dalton) I live in a small town, I work at a tech company that fix's electronics and restores old footage my friend who works as a night guard at the location she asked me to keep her name anonymous for reasons you will surely know through out the story. anyway I woke up like any other day got dressed ate some breakfast and off to work like usual I get greeted by my boss and my coworker (Daniel) who has a habit of sleeping on the job, so I do my job fixing xbox's from phones to vintage tv's, I over heard some employees talking about one night their friend heard the other coworker calling them from down the hall, the same vary coworker laughed at the guy and told him he was at home. that story sent some chills down my spine but hay its a little scary story anyways it was getting late so I made sure to wait until my friend arrived to give her the keys to my office since I left her a beer in my mini fridge. it was 9:30PM when I arrived home and that's when I see something shoot past me at a speed which a speed monitor couldn't see I quickly went in my house thinking it may have just been my imagination I went up stairs to my room took my pants and shocks off to go to bed Since I need to get up at 7AM for work. that's when I get a text from my friend saying. WHAT THE HELL DALTON! is this a prank. I text back saying what? what's wrong. She texts me a messages saying. . . . Don't play dumb with me that's you on the cameras. I text back saying. what? me on the cameras I'm at home. and then she sends me the video feed, I tell you the fear I felt when I saw what was standing there right in front of my face was Me? me being a guy who is not scared of anything I was shaking I couldn't move my eyes trained on this thing then I begun to think about the story I heard about voices from down the hall, like it was damn near midnight and this is what I have to think about until I remembered my friend was in there with it I then tried to call to no answer its now 11:40PM Im idk tired scared shitless out of my mind ill update you all if anything else comes up tell then this is my story of how my day went. ​ ​

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15uav3e/im_being_hunted_by_something_that_sounds_like_me/

scarystories

foxyFuntime124

I seen him again…

it’s 12:39 am in the morning and I’m just watching Sam and Colby videos in the dark with my dog in my room idk how to describe this feeling but I just felt like someone or something was staring at me i turned on my flash and looked around no one was there I already knew it was him watching me so I turned off my flashlight and acted like I was paying attention to my phone but I was looking at the closet from the side of my eye then my dog starts barking from under my cover(he likes to sleep under covers) I looked really fast and I seen like a black mist move really fast towards the closet and disappeared I jumped up and ran out of my room really fast like I’m not finna sleep with that thing watching me everyone is sleep except for my sister she was outside with her friends but now ima just sleep in the living room and just watch Sam and Colby till i fall asleep 🥲👍🏼 bye.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15ubv0s/i_seen_him_again/

scarystories

TrainingNorth4440

There’s someone stalking me

I know it’s probably not the right time on reddit but every day for the past month someone has shown up at my house watching from a far just standing there and I have called the police but they can’t do anything without evidence and he is outside my home in a bush right now I don’t know what the fuck to do.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15u42yy/theres_someone_stalking_me/

scarystories

Sea-Artichoke-3794

My older sister has been having nightmares of a demonic cat in our closet

My older sister Eve has always had a obsession over cats, but all of that changed in a single night. It all started when our family was driving on a highway and we noticed a grey kitten with white fur on its belly, chest, paws, and chin. We all noticed the stray kitten and it seemed hurt, so we found an area to stop and we quickly grabbed the kitten, it was hard because the cat was a fighter but we got it. We noticed the cat was female and we brought her I to the vet, we found out the cat had only a few injures it shes fine, it turns out her mother just abandoned her kitten. So we ended up keeping her, my sister named her streets because we found her on the streets. Streets was a very viscous cat but she eventually succumbed to me and I was the first person she trusted. My sister demanded me to teach her how to tame the cat and after a few tries, streets clanged to her and they were best friends. After two years of them getting along and being besties, my sister has been having nightmares recently about a ragged up cat in the closet. I always had to check for her but obviously nothing was there and I reassured her she’s fine. But one night my sister had enough of it and went to sleep in my mom’s room. Streets was in the room alone with me. Streets isn’t a lap cat but she layed next to me. One thing I found uneasy is that streets kept staring at the closet but I brushed it off. Until eventually I heard a sharp scratching noise at the closet door and I open my eyes, I see the closet door shut and streets staring at me meowing. After a brief moment of the cat meowing, the door opens swiftly and I see a tall black figure in the closet. I immediately cover myself in my blanket and start shaking. I peek from under the covers to take another look and the figure was piercing over my bed. But it wasn’t any old figure. It was a black tall cat that was standing on its two feet, long sharp claws with stained blood, dark eyes with white soulless pupils, raggedy messed up fur, and the scariest sharpest teeth that reminded me of the Cheshire Cat from Alice and the wonderland. It’s tail was ripped off with major blood. I couldn’t believe my eyes, I immediately pull myself back under the covers and pray and punch myself hoping it’s just a dream, but no hope. I feel my foot being dragged under the bed along with the terrifying cat, it’s mouth opens wide and before I knew it I was being eaten alive, then I wake up. The pain felt so real and before I knew it, my older sister Eve was piercing over me holding Streets and in her other hand, a knife.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tx0id/my_older_sister_has_been_having_nightmares_of_a/

scarystories

Maqxiii

I Can See People’s Ages. There’s A 24 Year Old Woman Who Can Kill Vampires For Good. [Part 3]

“Get it together, [Henry!](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15agr55/i_can_see_peoples_ages_tonight_i_met_a_woman_who/)” I said to myself, slapping some sense back into me. “Remember the [mission!](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15gmn2t/i_can_see_peoples_ages_today_i_kinda_killed_a_man/) Fight now, think later!” I checked my surroundings for more vamps. I quickly pressed myself against the wall as another set of footsteps descended from the end of the adjacent corridor. Sneaking a peak, I found an orderly carrying a metal platter with a small styrofoam cup, some pills, and a sandwich on it. The girl's age read only 20, but I was on edge. She still could’ve been a fledgling vampire for all I know. Technically anybody in the double digits could be a vampire. They just aren’t super mega old like most I’ve encountered so far were. I couldn’t trust *anyone*. She looked friendly enough with her long brown hair tied back into two French braids and eyes which radiated kindness. She continued walking, staring down the activities room doors absentmindedly. I could only guess who the pills and food were for. Taking a gamble with what little essence of a plan my brain had cooked up, I revealed myself right as the orderly stopped in front of the double doors that led into the most important room in the building. “… Hey there!” She stared at me with wide doe eyes, pressing her lips into a small line. Obviously I’d caught her off guard and startled her. “C-can I help you, sir?” She stuttered out. “How did you get in here?” I shot her a nervous, toothy, smile. “Listen, I’m reaaaal sorry to do this. You look like a nice lassy, you really do, but-“ I wound my fist back, getting ready to knock her lights out, when I noticed the scared look on her face. A few thoughts crossed my mind. How many punches to the face would it actually take for her to go down? How much pain and damage had to be done before she was knocked unconscious? I was already hesitant to hit the woman in the first place, but it was necessary to my plan. Quickly, I changed my plan to what I thought was a slightly less brutal one. “-Hey what’s that over there?” I asked as I pointed behind her. Following my lead, the orderly twisted her head to look at the empty corridor behind her. As much as I didn’t want to get violent, especially with a woman, I needed her out of the picture. And her clothes. While she was still turned away from me, I lunged forward and took the tray out of her hand and set it haphazardly on the floor. Then in her stunned confusion, I grabbed her shoulder and twisted her so her back was to my front, then put her in a chokehold. I felt dirty as I covered her mouth with my hand to keep her screams muffled. She squirmed in my grasp and clawed at my arms, desperately trying to get me off her. Unfortunately for her, I was stronger and within a minute or two she was out. I didn’t put enough pressure on her throat to do too much damage, but she would be out for a little bit and wake up with a sore throat and a nasty looking bruise. Looking around to make sure the coast was still clear, my eyes landed on the only other door in the hallway. I grabbed the orderly’s wrists and quickly dragged her, surprisingly heavy body, closer to the door. I crossed my fingers and toes, praying that this door to whatever room laid behind it was unlocked. Mara blessed me with some good luck as after a quick jiggle of the doorknob, the door popped open, revealing a small janitorial closet. I gently disrobed the nurse out of her scrubs- not looking at or touching anything because I’m not a perv- and set my delivery driver costume neatly on her torso. If she woke up in there at least there’d be something for her to change into. I did a quick costume change then grabbed a broomstick and stuck it under the doorknob after gingerly kicking the orderly’s legs inside the closet. The white scrubs the orderlies had to wear must’ve been unisex or something because they fit surprisingly well. They felt light and breathable, like silk pajamas. My only problem was that I had two feet on the other girl, so the pants went up a little past my ankles. Anything, though, was better compared to the tightness of the delivery driver costume. Collecting myself, I swept some hair out of my face and ran my hand through my hair. Hopefully I won’t need to do anymore evil deeds for the rest of the day. I scooped the metal tray off the ground and walked towards the Activities Room doors. The small golden plaque mantled above the wooden double doors that read “Activities Room” only confirmed I was in the right place I hadn’t gotten close enough to the doors before to see that plaque, so it was nice to know I hadn’t royally fucked up and I was actually worthy of being on Nate’s team. Now all I had to do was go in there and rescue the last Chosen so our team could go and kick some vampire ass! Taking a deep breath in, I shifted my left hand under the middle of the tray and knocked softly on the door three times with my other hand. “Hello?” I asked softly, not wanting to startle whoever was in the room. “Is anyone in there?” I was about to knock again after not hearing anything but I paused when an even softer voice said from the other side of the door, “Come in.” I opened the door and realized why they sent human orderlies in there instead of vampires. The activities room was a huge open space with one wall basically being floor to ceiling windows. In contrast to the dark corridor on the other side of the large oak double doors, bright light from the early afternoon sun lit the activities room up like a Christmas tree. There was a brown leather couch set and coffee table in the middle of the room. A large pool table was in the back left corner, adjacent to a ping pong table in the back right corner. In front of the wall of windows was a large wooden easel and half painted canvas. Next to it was a plastic foldable table full of art supplies. Paint brushes, colorful tubes of acrylic paint, oil paints, and a watercolor palette were littered all over the surface of the table. A stack of empty canvases of all different shapes and sizes laid in the corner. Next to it was another stack of paintings all with similar compositions, but they were facing the ceiling so I didn’t get a real good look at them. The canvas itself was full of different vibrant shades of greens, yellows, pinks, and purples. Even though it wasn’t finished I could tell it was a painting of a garden. A garden that I’d visited before. The Garden of Mara. It was then that I noticed all the paintings hanging around the room. They were all almost identical, except that put together the canvases showed a greater painting all together. It was almost a full panorama of the pavilion that sat in the middle of the garden. Emily grabbed an apron with a million paint splatters covering it and tied it around her front. A little name tag reading “Emily” was pinned to it. Emily picked up a white plastic palette and started to paint again. “You’re not Gloria.” She said in a slow, monotone voice. I set the tray I was carrying down on the glass coffee table then went back and locked the doors. I couldn’t risk any vampiric interruptions.“Gloria is feeling a bit under the weather at the moment, so they sent me.” I lied. Something felt… off about this whole situation. As I got a better look at Emily, I had a sneaking suspicion why. She wore a light gray sweatsuit under her apron. Her blonde hair was tied back into a messy bun. A million freckles were speckled all over her rosy cheeks and nose. Her eyes were glassy and gray with a far off look in them. Immediately I could tell she wasn’t fully there. I grabbed the pill cup that sat in between the styrofoam cup of water and sandwich on the tray I’d brought in. The cup contained four small white round tablets and one long light blue pill. None of them had the standard imprint codes that identified what the medicine contained. Just what kind of drugs were they giving her? When I looked back up after concluding my examination of the pills, Emily was standing in front of me, her palm held out to me expectantly. “My pills?” She asked with a raised eyebrow as she stared at the small cup in my hands. My eyes darted between the pills and her glassy gray eyes. “Why don’t we try something different today?” I offered her the sandwich and cup of water instead. She shrugged her shoulders, indifferent to the change of routine, and graciously took the water and chugged it. She ignored the sandwich and went back to her easel. “Do you know your name?” I asked after dumping the pills in the sink that was used to wash the paint brushes. I turned the faucet on and watched the drugs dissolve in the water and flow down the drain. “Mhm.” Emily said absentmindedly as she continued to stroke her paint brush against the canvas. She paused and then turned to me and pointed at her nametag. “This thing says my name is Emily. Who else would I be, silly?” She then continued to paint the canvas, ignoring my existence as she got in the zone. I took another look at all the paintings around the room. “What are you painting?” I asked, already knowing the answer. It took Emily a minute to formulate an answer, like she was trying to find the right words to say. “*Home*… I think. I know I felt safe there. Warm and loved. I felt at home there.” Home? That’s an odd way to look at The Garden of Mara. But then again, when I think back to when I visited in my dreams it could be described similarly to how Emily saw it. It definitely was a safe and comfortable space. No wonder Wesson, the God of Death, wanted back in so badly. Emily waved her brush around a large blank spot in the middle of the canvas. “You see right here? This is where M’lady will go. I’m not so good at painting people so I’m going to do her last.” After hearing Emily’s explanation the once white blob in the middle of the canvas resembled the outline of a woman. By the outline and with deductive reasoning, I concluded that Emily was talking about the Goddess of Life, Mara. It seems like she didn’t know her name either since she referred to her as “M’lady.” “You’re a good artist.” I said, marveling at all the artwork Emily had created. “Your paintings are beautiful.” Emily continued stroking her paintbrush along the canvas. Currently she was touching up a section of pink flowers I couldn’t place the name of. Instead of thanking me for the compliment, Emily started airing her grievances to me. “They won’t let me paint a mural on the walls and only let me use the canvases. Those only let me create windows. If I could paint my mural it would be like I was back there.” I nodded my head and made a non-committal “hm” to show I was listening to her. Emily then pointed to the stack of painted canvases. “Those are my failures, too ugly to even be seen. The only good thing about them is the practice I got. One day though, despite them, I’ll paint my perfect mural on the walls. One day I’ll go back home.” Even though she was drugged out of her mind, I admired Emily’s determination and outlook on life. She had this indescribable aura about her that made me realize why Mara chose her. I could sense it would be even greater if she was at full mental capacity. I asked her one final set of questions before I determined it was high time we got out of there. “Emily, do you remember anything other than The Garden? Do you know where you are right now? Why you’re here?” She set her paintbrush down and turned to face me again. Emily looked up to the ceiling as she tried to remember. The glossy look in her eyes deepened as she seemed to be looking beyond the ceiling at something incredibly far away. “I-” It looked like she was about to cry as she breathed in a pained gasp of air. “I need to finish my painting.” “Emily,” I said as I got off the couch and grabbed her shoulder. She shrugged me off and went into a trance-like state. She wouldn’t answer any more of my questions and just continued to paint. Suddenly, a loud bang came from the locked double doors. Emily didn’t seem to mind it, but I readied myself for another vampire attack. Another loud bang came from the door. I grabbed one of Emily’s spare paint brushes and broke the wooden tip handle off, making a makeshift wooden stake. If earlier had been a fluke, and I really couldn’t control vampires, I didn’t want to be empty handed when facing another fanged bloodsucker. One third and final bang came from the doors before they burst open. I put myself in a fighting stance, bracing for the vampiric army I expected to storm through those doors and rip me to shreds. Instead, a disheveled Nate stood out of breath holding his side. “Nate!” I shouted in relief, throwing the makeshift stake across the room and enveloping him in a tight hug. I thought he might’ve become vampire chow by now. Boy was I glad to see he was alright. The memories of my previous vampire encounter and the implications that came with it got pushed to the back burner with how excited I was to not be alone again. Still, a feeling of unease coursed through me. Something was telling me to air on the side of caution. I decided not to divulge the new developments of my abilities to Nate. “Oh, hello.” Emily said in that same quiet and mousy tone when she first let me in the Activities Room, addressing Nate. She then went back to painting as if nothing ever happened. He had this complete look of surprise and awe on his face as he looked me dead in the eyes and pushed me off of him. He analyzed the situation and kept looking between Emily, me, and the paintings all over the walls. Nate quickly broke through his shock and looked behind his shoulder. He then closed the double doors he’d kicked open. “Quick, help me push the sectional over here!” He ordered as he raced towards the largest and heaviest couch in the room. Following Nate’s orders, I grabbed one end of the heavy sectional and helped him carry it to the doors. We pushed it right under the door handles so it would be difficult to open the door from the other end. Just then a bang came from the other side. Then another. “Care to explain?” I said as I grabbed my makeshift stake again and eyed the doors like they were going to explode open any minute. “Pissed off a couple of vampires. They followed me here. They probably brought reinforcements as well.” A sarcastic, “Great,” slipped out of my mouth as I rolled my eyes. “What’s with her?” Nate asked, gesturing to Emily. “Drugged to high hell. I doubt she even knows she’s a Chosen, much less how to use her ability in the state she’s in.’ “Great.” Nate said, copying my sarcastic tone from earlier. “Are those-” “Paintings of The Garden? Yes. She thinks it's home.” I answered. “It will be home to all of us if we don’t do something!” Nate shouted. I had an epiphany. “We can’t take them all, just me and you. We need Emily and her ability to get rid of them for good. If I can somehow get her lucid then we might have a fighting chance.” Nate took a cautious step back from the door and started looking for an alternative escape route. “How do you plan to do that?” “Uh,” I said, thinking out loud as I patted myself down, trying to find something that would do just what I needed it to. My hand landed on my pocket and a crazy idea popped into my head. It was crazy enough it might just work. “With this,” I said as I pulled my Epipen out of my pocket and held it up like it was our saving grace. Remember when I said I carry it with me in my pocket everywhere I go? Just as I announced my plan, Nate’s eyes landed on the wall of windows. “I dunno, Henry. Don’t you think maybe she’s been drugged for a reason? Let’s just break the window, get to the van, and let her detox on the way back to the motel.” “Yes, I do think she was drugged for a reason,” I answered, looking at Emily. “That reason is what is going to get us out of here alive.” I dismissed Nate’s plan and readied the Epipen. A boost of adrenaline was hopefully just the thing to break Emily out of her drug induced trance. “Do whatever it is you think will work then,” Nate said, annoyed as he punched one of the window panes, trying to break it. “ Meanwhile, I’ll be over here waiting and ready to save your ass again.” When his punch didn’t break the glass, Nate tried to kick it. “Hey, what are you doing?” Emily yelled in protest as I took the paintbrush out of her hand and spun her around. My one hand was wrapped around her waist and the other was at the ready with my Epipen. “Don’t worry, Emily. It’ll pinch and sting for a little bit, but then everything will be just fine.” I said, reassuringly. She looked me deep in the eyes, seemingly understanding what I was telling her, right as I jabbed the epipen in her thigh. She didn’t even flinch or register that she’d just been stabbed with a tiny needle. I stuck the empty pen cartridge back in my pocket. I waited for something, anything, to happen to Emily. She just stood there, like some kind of zombie statue. A minute passed and her eyes still remained just as cloudy as before. An intense bang came from the window behind us. Nate had picked up a love seat and was currently attempting to use the legs to break the windows. It was a little effective as a small crack in the glass had formed. “A little help here?” Nate grunted in frustration as he threw the chair at the window. “Give me a minute!” I yelled, desperately. Emily still had that long far off look in her eyes. I looked between her and Nate, who was still assaulting the windows with living room furniture. Another idea popped into my mind. It was a long shot, but it could work. If it didn’t, then I’d help Nate finish breaking the window which now had multiple cracks in its glass. Still holding Emily’s waist, I pulled her even closer to mine. Our faces were mere inches apart and I could feel the air coming out of her nose on my cheek. I looked into her gorgeous gray eyes one more time, before I shut mine and pushed my lips into hers. It was a short and sweet kiss, but at the same time it felt electric. Like a million lightning bolts danced across my skin. I felt a sudden change in her body language as I pulled myself off of her and opened my eyes. The aura she emitted earlier had increased tenfold, and the look on her face was a scary one. Her once glassy eyes were clear as day with heavily dilated pupils. They were somehow a darker, more alive shade of gray than before. Her cheeks were blushed a deep red and a nasty frown was on her lips. Emily scowled at me. A sudden spark flashed in her eyes as her anger increased and she slapped me across the face. I took a surprised step back and rubbed my sore cheek. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She turned around and rested her hands on the easel. She looked back at me with a menacing look as she wiped my kiss residue off of her lips with her sleeve. I stepped forward to try and explain myself, but another spark lit in her eyes and her palms glowed an amazing hue of red. Then suddenly the easel erupted into flames. Emily screamed as she lurched back, accidentally falling into me. She pushed me off of her as she looked at the big flaming easel in the corner. Emily’s scream grabbed Nate’s attention off the window and over to us. “Holy shit!” He said, dropping the chair in his hands. Her halfway completed painting burst and sent hot embers flying throughout the room. One landed on the back of my hand. Instead of an intense burning pain shooting through my skin, I felt… nothing. I watched in awe as the ember burned brightly on my hand before eventually dying out and crumbling to ash. Emily looked in awe as I scraped the ash off my hand and whipped the debris off on my white scrubs. “That didn’t hurt.” I said, amazed. “We’re immune to each other's abilities.” Nate said as he gestured to a bunch of embers that landed on his own skin and clothes. They all fizzled out and crumbled to ash. Even Emily was immune, but that was a given since she is the one who caused the fire to begin with. Nate looked over at the sectional which had small flames littered throughout its upholstery as if to prove his point even more. “What the hell is going on?” She screamed as she looked down at her hands, scared of herself. That glassy look from earlier returned as she seemed to remember something. “Mom?! Dad?! What did I do?” I grabbed Emily’s shoulder and rubbed it gently. This seemed to break her out of her trance and she looked up at me. “Hey, it’s okay. See? We’re fine. Let’s all calm down and focus on getting out of here.” She wiped a tear out of her eye and a determined look crossed her face as she nodded in agreement. “This window is about to crumble. Just one more hit and we’re out of here!” Nate yelled as he picked up the same love seat from earlier. “NO!” Emily and I shouted at the same time lunging for Nate, trying to stop him. The one thing you never want to do, especially in a house fire, is open any windows or doors to the room that's on fire. It’s called the fire triangle since there are three things needed for a raging fire to start. Heat, fuel, and oxygen. There was plenty of fuel in the room with the wooden easel, all the canvases, and various wooden brushes and furniture littered throughout the room. The heat from the first fire was already going. If Nate managed to break the window then the over abundance of oxygen that would flow into the room would tip the scales and cause the fire to burn more and potentially cause an explosion. Emily and I were too late in our warning as Nate had already thrown the chair with all his might. First the sound of cracking glass filled the room, before the glass shattered completely. Nate braced himself and I grabbed Emily and shielded her in my arms. The sound of hot wind rushing next to me rang in my ears as a loud explosion echoed through the room. Something large crashed into my back, causing a rippling pain throughout my entire body. Emily fell out of my grasp due to the hard impact. The wind got knocked out of me, but I would be fine. I looked up and everything was covered in flames. It was weird standing in the middle of a burning blaze and not dying. I managed to find Emily again and Nate joined back up with us. Nate let me use him as a crutch and the three of us left the Activities Room for the last time. The couch we used to block the door had been blown to smithereens. The vampires that had been piled against the back side of the door didn’t stand a chance. As we left, one vampire who had their lower half torn off in the blast scrawled down the hall for help, his organs leaking out and leaving a black blood trail behind him. He reached out for us, hissing and baring his teeth, but he was too weak to do anything. His skin started glowing brightly before he disappeared all together. He was only 102 years old. “Gnarly.” Nate said. “What was that thing?” Emily gulped. I forgot for a second that she was out of the loop. I then remembered the orderly from earlier and raced over to the closet I’d locked her in. I removed the broomstick and her body fell out when I opened the door. She must’ve regained consciousness and put the delivery driver outfit on but passed out again after the explosion. It looked like the force of the blast caused a whole bunch of cleaning supplies to fall off the shelves and on to her. I checked her pulse. She was alive, but barely. I grabbed who I think Emily called Gloria and slung her over my shoulder. Another roar of fire shot out of the Activities Room door, singing the hair off of Gloria’s arm as I just managed to dodge it. Two things became apparent at that moment. One, humans could be affected by Emily’s flames. Two, the fire was now spreading out of the Activities Room and spreading down the corridor to the rest of the hospital “Human?” Nate asked as I hurriedly hobbled back over to the group. I nodded my head. “We need to get the other humans here to safety. There’s at least another one here somewhere. Nate, do you know where the others are?” He nodded his head. “When we didn’t go back to the van, the vamps figured we were up to no good. They gathered all the humans as hostages in the cafeteria. There were six of them, but as far as I know, two of them were drained and turned.” "Wait, they can turn other humans?” I asked, bewildered at such a possibility. “Vamps? As in vampires?” Emily added in, incredulously. “Yes.” Nate answered both of our questions at the same time. “Just who the hell are you guys?” She asked, looking for answers, trying to make sense of everything. Nate and I shot each other a look before answering her question in unison. “We’re Mara’s Chosen Few.”

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15ts5pr/i_can_see_peoples_ages_theres_a_24_year_old_woman/

scarystories

spnsuperfan1

The Sawmill Accident

Vincent Farley lived out in the country working at the local sawmill in his community, he never missed a day of work and was always on time. Unfortunately, one night he stayed up late drinking with some friends and went into work with a hangover and still feeling the effects of the alcohol since he had never been drinking before. While he was working one of the hurdles, he lost his balance and stumbled and fell face first into one of the spinning blades. Vincent was now cut from his forehead down to his chest. Still alive but losing blood. He staggered towards the exit and went out the door walking down the long dirt road looking for help since he had volunteered on a weekend, and no one was at the mill but him. In the distance he could see a beige colored farmhouse. Surely someone was home and could call for help. Vincent stumbled up the steps using outiside paneling to hold himself upright. Raising a trembling hand, he knocked on the wooden screen door before falling onto the porch. Inside the loud thud from outside alerted the couple who lived there. Rosey opened the front door letting out a terrified scream. Before her was the injured and bleeding Vincent. Looking over her shoulder to her husband, her voice quivering she yelled “Call the doctor!” By the time the doctor arrived it was too late. Vincent had already passed. What surprised the doctor the most was a man with that sort of injury should not have made it as far as Vincent did. Too bad he had lost too much blood. After some time, Rosey and her husband began to hear noises of someone walking up the steps onto their porch, knocking on the screen door then falling with a thud. Flicking on the porch light she peeked out the window just to see nothing there. “Must be Vincent” Guard mumbled as he looked at Rosey from over the top of his newspaper. She paled at the thought of her home becoming haunted, but she knew her husband was right. After all this was the last place Vincent had been before he passed away and he was only looking for help. Help that came too late.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tw8xu/the_sawmill_accident/

scarystories

GrimmInDarkness

Secrets Unleashed: I'm a US Government Agent Tracking the Escaped Werewolf

In the heart of a moonlit night, the eerie howls of a ferocious werewolf echoed through the dense woods. The government's elite agents, led by the fearless Agent Kane, were on the hunt for this escaped subject from a classified research facility. The werewolf's power and agility had left a trail of devastation in its wake, and the agents were determined to bring it down before more lives were lost. As the agents followed the creature's scent through the twisted trees, the tension in the air was palpable. Each step they took was heavy with anticipation, their senses heightened by the looming danger. Agent Kane, a battle-hardened veteran, led the way with unwavering resolve. Her team moved in a tight formation, their weapons ready, and their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Suddenly, a bone-chilling growl echoed through the woods. The agents froze, their hearts racing. From the darkness emerged a massive werewolf, its eyes glowing with an unholy light. This creature was unlike any they had encountered before, standing at least eight feet tall with muscles that rippled beneath its fur like steel cables. Its snarling maw revealed razor-sharp fangs that dripped with saliva. With lightning speed, the werewolf lunged at the agents, its claws slashing through the air. Agent Kane's reflexes kicked in, and she narrowly dodged the attack, narrowly avoiding the creature's lethal strike. The battle had begun, and the woods erupted into chaos as gunfire and snarls filled the night. The agents fought desperately to keep their distance, their bullets bouncing off the werewolf's thick hide. Its strength was astonishing, and it dispatched agents with terrifying ease. A single swipe of its massive paw sent one agent hurtling through the air, crashing into a tree with bone-crushing force. Another agent fired a flare, illuminating the battlefield in an eerie crimson glow. As the agents regrouped, Agent Kane's mind raced for a strategy. She remembered the ancient legends of silver being a werewolf's weakness. With a signal to her team, they unleashed a barrage of silver-laced bullets, finding their mark and eliciting agonized howls from the creature. The werewolf's ferocity didn't waver, but the wounds slowed its movements, giving the agents a brief respite. The battle raged on, the forest echoing with the clash of steel and the roars of the werewolf. One by one, the agents fell back, nursing wounds and catching their breath. Agent Kane stared at the creature with grim determination, realizing that this would be their final stand. The full moon cast an eerie glow on the scene, bathing everything in an otherworldly light. Summoning every ounce of her strength, Agent Kane rallied her team for one last assault. They encircled the wounded werewolf, their weapons poised for the finishing blow. The creature's eyes burned with a mix of fury and desperation, and it lunged once more. A fierce battle ensued, with agents attacking from all sides while dodging the creature's lethal strikes. In a heart-stopping moment, Agent Kane locked eyes with the werewolf. Time seemed to slow as she realized the creature's intelligence, the spark of humanity still buried within. With a final surge of determination, she lunged forward, plunging a silver blade into the werewolf's heart. The creature let out a mournful howl that echoed through the night, its body convulsing before collapsing onto the forest floor. The agents stood in breathless silence, surrounded by the wreckage of their battle. The moon's light bathed the fallen werewolf in an ethereal glow, and the woods seemed to hold their breath. As the night wind rustled through the trees, Agent Kane knew that their mission was complete. The escaped werewolf, a symbol of both horror and tragedy, lay defeated. The government's secrets remained hidden, but the cost had been high. The agents began to tend to their wounded comrades, their hearts heavy with the weight of the night's events. And so, under the watchful gaze of the moon, the agents emerged from the darkness, forever changed by their encounter with the supernatural. The hunt for the escaped werewolf had come to an end, but its echoes would linger in their memories, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. As the night grew quieter, a sense of eerie calm settled over the forest. The fallen werewolf lay motionless, its once ferocious form now an imposing yet tragic figure. Agent Kane approached the creature cautiously, her heart heavy with a mix of triumph and sorrow. She had seen firsthand the creature's strength, but also glimpsed the humanity that had been overshadowed by its monstrous nature. Gently, Agent Kane retrieved the silver blade from the werewolf's heart. As she did, the moon's light seemed to wane, as if acknowledging the end of the battle. The agents gathered around her, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and relief. They had faced a creature of nightmares and emerged victorious, but not without scars – both physical and emotional. In the aftermath of the battle, the government's cleanup teams arrived, securing the area and removing any evidence of the supernatural encounter. The agents shared weary glances, knowing that their actions tonight would never be fully acknowledged, their sacrifices hidden from the public eye. Yet, they found solace in the knowledge that they had prevented further harm from befalling innocent lives. Days turned into weeks, and the forest slowly reclaimed the memory of the battle. Agent Kane and her team returned to their everyday lives, forever bound by the secrets they shared. The memory of the escaped werewolf lingered in their thoughts, a reminder of the lengths to which the government would go to harness the power of the supernatural. Agent Kane spent restless nights contemplating the events of that fateful night. She had witnessed the creature's final moments, seen the spark of humanity in its eyes. It made her wonder about the true nature of the experiments conducted in the hidden facility. The line between science and monstrosity had been blurred, and the consequences were far-reaching. In the end, Agent Kane couldn't shake the feeling that they were merely pawns in a much larger game, tasked with cleaning up the messes created by the government's insatiable pursuit of power. She knew that there were more secrets hidden in the shadows, waiting to be uncovered. As she stared at the moonlit sky, Agent Kane made a silent promise to herself. She would continue to hunt down escaped subjects, not just to contain them, but to uncover the truth behind their creation. The battle with the werewolf had ignited a fire within her, a determination to expose the government's mistakes and prevent further tragedies. And so, under the vast expanse of the night sky, Agent Kane's resolve remained unshaken. The hunt for the escaped werewolf had been just the beginning of a new chapter in her life, one that would lead her deeper into the darkness, where government secrets and supernatural forces collided. With each step she took, she knew that the path ahead would be treacherous, but she was prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead. As the moon continued its journey across the sky, casting a silvery glow on the world below, Agent Kane stood resolute. The hunt was far from over, and the secrets waiting to be unveiled were as daunting as they were dangerous. But with her team by her side, and the memory of the fallen werewolf driving her forward, she was ready to confront whatever darkness awaited her on the horizon. Weeks had passed since the night of the battle against the escaped werewolf. Agent Kane had returned to her routine, her resolve stronger than ever to uncover the truth behind the government's experiments. She continued to dig deeper, following leads and unearthing connections that seemed to stretch into the darkest corners of the world. However, something had changed within Agent Kane's team. Unbeknownst to her, the escaped werewolf's DNA that had been collected during the battle had subtly merged with their own blood. Over time, the changes had been gradual, almost imperceptible. But as the moon reached its zenith one fateful night, the transformation became undeniable. Agent Kane had gathered her team for a mission that she believed was crucial to exposing another layer of the government's secrets. They were deep within an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by crates filled with classified documents. The moon's light filtered through the broken windows, casting an eerie glow on the scene. As Agent Kane discussed their strategy, she noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. The team had begun to change. Their eyes glinted with an unnatural luminescence, their muscles tensing as if itching for a fight. And then it happened – with a bone-chilling howl, they transformed into werewolves, their humanity consumed by their monstrous alter egos. Agent Kane's shock was palpable, her mind racing to comprehend the impossible. As the transformed agents lunged at her, Agent Kane's training kicked in. She evaded their attacks with a mix of agility and desperation, her mind struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. These were her teammates, her allies, and now they were merciless killing machines with a thirst for blood. The warehouse erupted into chaos as Agent Kane fought for her life. She darted between crates, narrowly avoiding razor-sharp claws and powerful swipes. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath ragged as she desperately sought a way to escape the onslaught. The once-trusted members of her team were now unrecognizable, driven by an insatiable hunger for violence. Outside the warehouse, the moon hung in the sky like a malevolent witness to the carnage below. Agent Kane's mind raced for a solution as she continued to fend off her transformed teammates. She realized that they had become a part of the same experiment they had once hunted their DNA tainted by the escaped werewolf's essence. With a surge of determination, Agent Kane managed to separate herself from the pack, using her surroundings to her advantage. She retrieved a weapon modified with silver ammunition, hoping that it would prove effective against the monstrous creatures her team had become. Her movements were fueled by a mix of fear, sorrow, and the knowledge that she had to survive at any cost. The battle raged on, the warehouse echoing with the sounds of growls, howls, and gunfire. Agent Kane fought with every ounce of strength, her mind racing for a strategy that could bring an end to the nightmarish conflict. She knew that she had to find a way to reverse the transformation, to save her teammates from the fate that had befallen them. In the midst of the chaos, Agent Kane managed to land a precise shot on one of her transformed teammates, striking a vital point. As the creature let out a pained howl and reverted back to its human form, a glimmer of hope flickered within her. With newfound determination, she focused her efforts on incapacitating the others, using the silver ammunition to weaken their monstrous forms. As the moon began to wane, the battle reached its climax. Agent Kane stood amid the wreckage, surrounded by the unconscious forms of her teammates. The warehouse was filled with the stench of blood and the echoes of the night's horrors. With a heavy heart, she contacted the authorities, requesting immediate medical assistance for her comrades. The aftermath of the battle left Agent Kane shattered. She had faced not only the government's experiments but the betrayal of her own team. The lines between trust and deception had been blurred, and the wounds ran deep. As the sun's first rays broke through the darkness, she stared at the fallen werewolves, each one a reminder of the fragile boundaries between humanity and monstrosity. Agent Kane knew that her journey was far from over. The escaped werewolf's DNA had brought forth unimaginable consequences, and the secrets of the government's experiments were still buried deep within the shadows. With a heavy heart and a newfound determination, she walked away from the scene, ready to face the challenges that awaited her in a world where nothing was as it seemed. As the sun rose, its warm rays gently dispelling the darkness, Agent Kane retreated from the scene of the harrowing battle. Her steps were heavy, her mind awash with a maelstrom of emotions. Betrayal, grief, and a burning desire for justice fueled her every thought. The events of the night had shattered her trust, her sense of camaraderie with her own team now twisted into a painful memory. With her transformed teammates receiving medical attention, Agent Kane turned her attention back to her investigation. She knew that the roots of this sinister experiment ran deep within the government's hidden machinations. The DNA of the escaped werewolf had been a catalyst, but there was more to the story that remained hidden. As the weeks passed, Agent Kane delved deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of power. She uncovered a web of deceit, a trail of breadcrumbs leading to shadowy figures with ulterior motives. It became clear that the government's experiments were not just about harnessing supernatural abilities, but about control, manipulation, and unchecked power. With each revelation, Agent Kane's determination grew stronger. She realized that her mission had evolved beyond exposing the government's mistakes – it was about dismantling a system that allowed such horrors to thrive. Her experiences had shaped her into a fierce force, a lone wolf willing to face the darkness head-on. Her investigation led her to a hidden research facility, a place that had been instrumental in the creation of the werewolf transformation. As she infiltrated the facility's depths, she encountered armed guards, elaborate security systems, and a sense of foreboding that hung in the air. It was a high-stakes game of cat and mouse, a battle of wits and skills that would determine the fate of countless lives. As Agent Kane delved deeper, she uncovered chilling records that detailed not only the experiments that had transformed her teammates, but also the government's plans to unleash them as uncontrollable weapons of destruction. The escaped werewolf had been merely a test subject, a precursor to an army of supernatural killing machines. With her heart pounding, Agent Kane realized that she had become the last line of defense against the impending catastrophe. She had to expose the truth, not just for her own survival, but for the sake of humanity itself. Armed with this newfound knowledge, she confronted the facility's leaders, determined to put an end to their nightmarish plans. The confrontation escalated into a battle of epic proportions, reminiscent of the conflicts she had faced before. The facility became a battleground, a clash of ideologies, and a fight for the future. Agent Kane faced off against her adversaries, using her training, resourcefulness, and sheer determination to overcome insurmountable odds. As the moon rose once again, its silvery light casting an ethereal glow on the chaos below, Agent Kane emerged victorious. The facility lay in ruins, the plans of the government's shadowy figures thwarted. But victory came at a cost – scars, physical and emotional, that would forever mark her journey. Agent Kane stood amidst the wreckage, her gaze fixed on the moon. Its luminescence seemed to reflect the duality of her existence – a symbol of both hope and darkness. The battle against the government's experiments had taken its toll, but she had emerged as a force to be reckoned with, a beacon of defiance against the darkness that lurked within the corridors of power. And so, as the night slowly yielded to the dawn, Agent Kane made a silent vow. She would continue to hunt down the government's mistakes, expose their secrets, and fight for a world where humanity's potential wasn't twisted into monstrosity. With the scars of her past serving as a reminder, she walked away from the ruins, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, armed with the unwavering resolve of an agent who had stared into the abyss and refused to be consumed. I just Made this , can you guys please give me any tips for a part 2 ? it would be great , also i made a youtube creepypasta about this if you don t mind to help me with a few views maybe you would also like it please help me about a bit , this is the link , [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6v5eBEu6xQ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6v5eBEu6xQ) thank you in advance

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15u2qro/secrets_unleashed_im_a_us_government_agent/

scarystories

Kgyorgy

Tree fell through my roof and we found bones

Im not dressing this up in any sort of way, this "story" is just my recollection of the events. I dont remember the exact date but my grandmother got sick around the time we were looking for a house, so my mom decided to find one closer to her. We got a decent deal on some property that had a house on it. The house wasnt very big and it was literally the most disgusting place id ever walked into at first but after 2 weeks of cleaning and painting, it felt clean enough I could relax. Shortly after we got moved in, my granny died, and we discovered a horrible mold problem with the house. It wasn't entirely in our name yet, so we just continued paying the bills until we could do something different... Again... There was a tree in the front yard that leaned towards the house and small limbs and twigs would fall from it often, and i always said I felt like the tree would fall over eventually. Well, dad calls the people who cut down trees and they said it wouldn't fall for years and we had nothing to worry about. The house had a crawl space type of thing in the roof of it, but it was also nasty and moldy and we just never got around to going up there (we were only there for 5 months total). It was also hard to reach due to the only access point being near the porch, and the ladder wouldnt extend down far enough due to being blocked due to the home-made hand rail. The mold kept getting worse and my family started getting sick. Eventually we moved out. The last day we were just coming back to clean up the yard and we pulled in to find the tree had fallen onto the house, and in the trashed pieces of the house we found bones. There was definitely a full skeleton, at least at one point. About 4'8" and it mightve been a full body at some point but it definitely wasnt now. It wasnt a clean skeleton, though. We called the police and I wish i had more information after that, but we moved 30 minutes away and havent heard anything since.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tnp3x/tree_fell_through_my_roof_and_we_found_bones/

scarystories

Pleasant-Gur-5611

Stuck in loop when I was a child

I was approximately in pre school (3-5) now I am 19, I remember this day very vividly. I remember leaving pre school when my mom came to pick me up. There would always be snacks by the door for when you leave, so I grabbed some and we got into the car. My mom drove a mini van and I was in the back seat staring out the window after I ate my snack. I don't remember where we were going, but as I was staring at the wheel of a bus I became stuck in a loop. All I could see was the wheel on the road constantly, It felt like hours of seeing the same thing over and over. While this was happening all I could remember is being confused and scared. There was nothing I could do to make it stop, I was frozen. Eventually I came out of it, we were back at the pre school picking up my younger brother, when I asked my mom "Where are we?, what happened?" she told me where we were and told me Ive been acting weird. She told me she was trying to talk to me while we were driving, I was giving her very random responses. We never talked about it after that and I have never explained to her what happened. I have never told anyone about this experience but thought I would since I cant figure out what happened. Did It even happen was I in a dream? Was I drugged? Did I glitch out of the matrix?

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tj448/stuck_in_loop_when_i_was_a_child/

scarystories

No_Worldliness_2391

I'm a Nurse at a Palliative Care unit in an old Hospital

I’m a nurse at a palliative care unit in an old hospital. If you’re a nurse at one of these units like me or know a nurse, please read until the end. I could use your help. Throughout my years working at this hospital, I’ve seen a lot, especially being in a palliative care unit, you see a lot of things other people wish they wouldn’t. For some of us, at some point, we just have to accept things as they are. The unit I work in has nine beds in nine different bedrooms, all spread along a long corridor. At the start of the corridor is the lift and, coming out of it, you’d find the cleaning room on your right, where we keep all the cleaning equipment and products, and the nurses’ room on your left, along with the entrance through the stairs. Because of the building and patient safety, and so we can access the other floors easily if in need, the administration forbade us from locking the stairs doors. This isn’t ideal, because some of our patients, in their delusions, can go across our room’s door unnoticed and will be a danger to themselves, so we always keep the doors closed by tying a bedsheet around the door handles to keep them together. This is important, so you know why what comes next started out so strange. The nurses’ room is where we’ll spend most of the night shifts doing all kinds of activities, including resting and actually sleeping. Usually, late at night, my routine would include checking on all our patients, checking on all the doors and windows to make sure they are all locked properly, checking on the doors to the stairs and then spend most of the night checking patient files. This night in particular, I had finished with my rounds and was checking on all the cameras. When my nursing auxiliary came into the nurses’ room, she asked me if anything else was needed or if she was ok to sleep for a while. I told her she was fine to go to sleep, so she took her shoes off, laid down with her back to the room and me, facing the wall, and went to sleep. I was reading a new patient’s file, who was coming into our unit soon, to know what to expect and how to behave around him, when I started hearing footsteps walking up and down the unit’s corridor. At first I ignored them, thinking I was just tired, and that my ears were playing tricks on me. It wouldn’t be the first time. As they persisted though, I started wondering what was going on. I took another look at the cameras, but each and every one of the bedroom and corridor feeds seemed completely normal. The steps, though, kept coming all the way to the nurses’ room, stopping about two steps away from showing at my door, then turning around and walking back all the way to the opposite end of the corridor. I waited to see if anything changed, but when it didn’t I stood up to go check. That’s when one of our patients, the one in room number seven, started calling us frantically. My auxiliary nurse was still asleep, so I walked carefully out of the room, peaked out of the room and looked around. There was nothing there, and the footsteps had stopped, so I rushed to the patient’s room. When I got there, he was shouting frantically, huddling against the bed’s headboard with what seemed like renewed energy, shouting at me to tell the man in the top hat sitting on the chair in the room to go away and leave him be. Usually, with patients like these in this state of stress, we just go along with their delusions to calm them down. If there are nurses watching, which I hope there are , you’ll know what I mean. In this case, with him screaming in the room, I turned towards the chair and started talking to this imaginary man in a top hat, telling him he needed to go, that the visiting hours were done and that he needed to leave right now or we’d have to call security. After this, the patient calmed down, thanked me effusively for sending the man away, and lay back down to rest. I went back to the nurses’ room and back to studying the new patient. As I walked back in, my heart stopped. All I felt was panic gripping my heart inside me. As I stood there, not knowing what to do and looking at the surveillance cameras, there was a big shadow, standing right in the middle of the frame of the camera recording the end of the corridor, right in front of the bedroom I had just been in. I took one step back and leaned backward to check if I could see anything there, and there was nothing. I gave the cameras another quick glance, and the shadow was still there, standing terrifyingly still in front of this patient’s bedroom door. This time, though, when I turned to look directly at the corridor again, this thing was there. For a moment, it felt like everything froze in place, and I just stood there, looking at it like a fool. Then, slowly, it turned towards me, a pair of strange, dark red eyes showing. It stood like that for a bit, screeched at me and flew into the patient’s bedroom, slamming the door behind it. My auxiliary nurse jumped awake at the slam of the door and started frantically asking me what was going on. I was out of breath by now. I told her what I had just seen and what had just happened and she couldn’t believe me. I asked her to come with me to the patient’s bedroom, and she agreed, starting to become curious. We walked slowly through the corridor, passing every door carefully. I was afraid that anything would come flying at us. When we got to the bedroom this thing flew into, I pushed the door without going in, to check for any kind of danger and immediately felt a breath of freezing air hit me in the face. The air con was on in every room and set to twenty three degrees, so this was not normal. Nothing came flying at us, like I was afraid would happen, but there, right by the patient’s bed, there was this shadow. I could tell it was a man, tall and strong with a top hat over his head. I asked my auxiliary nurse if she could see him, not expecting a no. However, that’s what I got. She couldn’t see anything standing there, and definitely not as clear as I could. Slowly, the shadow turned towards me again. This time, it didn’t scream. This time, it slowly dissipated. Immediately I calmed down. Not only could I not see it anymore, I also couldn’t feel it. This sense of calm came over me and the patient seemed ok, so we left the room, and went back to the nurse’s room. My colleague went back to sleep, but I didn't rest until I checked the rest of the unit to make sure everyone was safe. After that, I couldn’t help but stare at the cameras every minute for the rest of the night. Eventually, our shift was over and would become the shift with the most intense experience I ever had. The next day, when night time came and I did all my rounds, I went inside room seven to check on the patient. When I came closer to him, I realised he had passed away. This was my first experience with the shadow man in the top hat, but it wasn’t the last and it’s still ongoing. I’m the only one who can see him around the unit, which freaks everyone out. Every single time I see him, it’s under the same circumstances: I walk into a patient’s room and there’s his shadow at the feet of their bed. I wait for a little while, until he turns to me and dissipates. One or two days later, the patient passes away. This is a real story and it’s something I have to live with almost every day now. I’m not sure if this thing is killing people or announcing their deaths, but if you are a nurse in a similar unit or know someone who is, please share this with them and comment what you know about it. I need to know what this is, how to deal with it and if anyone else has experienced the same as me, even if it’s a different looking entity. I can keep you updated on here, if people are engaging and want to know more. Let me know if you want any updates, and I’ll make sure to bring them. If you’re dealing with something like this yourself, know that you’re not the only one. Maybe this will help you feel less afraid.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tiqns/im_a_nurse_at_a_palliative_care_unit_in_an_old/

scarystories

FranciscoMP

Hello Diary.

Day 1: This is my first time EVER having a diary. I always thought it was weird, but now, I get why people use these. It's a nice place to vent all your feelings without getting sent to a mental hospital. Well, now I can say it without getting yelled at. There's always been strange smells coming from my attic. Like something was rotting. And my parents are always out getting ropes, and bins, and... Having parties. I'm not really allowed to participate in these parties. They happen pretty late at night. Day 2: Same old, boring day. Honestly, nothing new happens. My parents go to the store to get ropes and new 'friends'. God, sometimes I wonder if they kill them! Hey, I probably shouldn't joke like that. That's a bit morbid. They never let me in the attic. Hell, maybe one of these days when they're out, I could sneak up there and try to rid of that awful smell! Nah, if they found out, I'd be dead meat. It's so temping though. Day 3: They're out. I think I might just head up there. It's a few hours later and I'm sobbing. They're murderers. Now I know why there's so much screaming at those parties, now I know why the attic smells funky. It's because there are rotting bodies up there. I think I might call the police. Oh my god, they just got home and they brought someone. I'm horrified. I just told them what I know. They are taking me up there... Oh. My. God. I'm going to die. This is my last page. I shouldn't have gone up there. This is the last time you'll ever see me. Goodbye. Day 4: Day 5:

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tvgdn/hello_diary/

scarystories

ridethecyclone43

Demonic stories Who in here has demonic stories they’d like to share?

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15u0f4e/demonic_stories_who_in_here_has_demonic_stories/

scarystories

[deleted]

My lights keep turning on randomly

I've been experiencing a strange occurrence where my lights turn on at random times, which is somewhat unsettling to me. It's important to note that I do not have a smart house.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tpkcd/my_lights_keep_turning_on_randomly/

scarystories

Clear_As_Day_

When the Sun Set Forever pt.3

In the wake of the city's fiery apocalypse, the flames still raged on the horizon, a relentless reminder of the chaos that had engulfed civilization. Yet, with time, the inferno had lost its ferocity, leaving behind a smoldering wasteland where the echoes of destruction lingered. And then, one day, fate intersected my path with a group of desperate souls—a reminder of the world's descent into madness. Drawn by whispers of sanctuary, they stumbled upon a cabin nestled deep within the woods—a haven untouched by the destructive flames that had engulfed the city. The irony was palpable, a bitter reminder of the relentless twists of fate. As they approached the cabin, their presence shrouded in a palpable mix of fear and desperation, my heart tightened with a heavy blend of empathy and melancholy. Inside those walls, I had fashioned a fragile haven, a corner of existence insulated from the tumult that had engulfed the outside world. With cautious steps, I emerged from the shadows, confronting the intruders whose desperation mirrored my own. The ensuing clash was a dance, intense yet heart-wrenchingly swift—a choreography of struggle etched with the sorrow of necessity. In the dim light of the cabin's interior, the echoes of their desperation met the somber determination that had grown within me. The young teen charged forward, a makeshift blade in hand, his eyes reflecting desperation and determination. Beside him, the second teen mirrored his resolve, a glint of steel clutched in his hand. The female lingered in the shadows, a crossbow aimed my way, her trembling fingers betraying a mix of fear and desperation. With a fierce surge of adrenaline, I managed to sidestep the two male attackers, their momentum propelling them past me. Instinct took over as I lunged at the female first, wielding the wooden club I had crafted in haste. A sickening crack resonated through the air as the club connected with bone, and she crumpled to the ground in a heap. A sharp pain radiated from my side as the blade found its mark, searing through me. Grimacing, I twisted away, the urgency of survival drowning out the pain. My club swung like a force of nature, shattering the jaw of the teen who had stabbed me, the wet crunch of bone against wood mingling with his pained moans. The other teen, stunned by the chaos that unfolded, stood frozen in place, his wide eyes filled with fear. We were both caught in a grim dance of inevitability—I couldn't afford to let them go, and he knew he couldn't escape. I seized the crossbow, my fingers trembling as I aimed it at him, the weight of a life-and-death decision hanging heavy in the air. His eyes pleaded for mercy, a silent plea that echoed through the night. I squeezed the trigger, the bolt finding its mark, though not with the precision I had hoped for. I had hoped the arrow would strike his heart and end him quickly, however, it was lodged into his throat. The anguish in his eyes mirrored my own—neither of us had wanted this outcome, but the world had painted us into a corner of violence and survival. The teen with the shattered jaw groaned his agony a reminder of the brutality that had unfolded. Swallowing my unease, I delivered a few final blows with my club, the echoes of each strike reverberating through the darkness. I repeated the process with the fallen female, a sense of somber necessity driving me forward. Finally, my gaze turned to the boy who lay choking on his blood, a painful realization etched into his expression. The crossbow bolt had stolen his voice, but his eyes spoke volumes—fear, pain, and a profound understanding of the cruel dance that life had led us into. With a heavy heart, I ended his suffering, hoping that in his final moments, he found some semblance of peace. As the night closed in around me, I stood amid the aftermath of the tragic encounter, my hands bloodied and heart heavy. The forest seemed to hold its breath as if mourning the lives that had been snuffed out. Amid this brutality, a haunting question lingered—how had humanity been led to a point where survival had become synonymous with savagery? My club felt heavy in my trembling grip, the blood-soaked wood a macabre testament to the brutality that had unfolded. My hands were slick with crimson stains, my once-pristine clothes now marred with the grim evidence of what I had done. The bodies lay before me, a haunting tableau of life extinguished by necessity. Grief and guilt intertwined within me, a bitter cocktail that threatened to drown my resolve. I surveyed the scene, each lifeless form a reflection of my shattered innocence. A deep ache settled in my chest, a hollow void that seemed to expand with every beat of my heart. My gaze shifted from one body to the next, and I felt a part of me wither away. The world had thrust me into a situation where life and death were agonizingly intertwined, leaving me with no choice but to wield the mantle of the executioner. I had acted out of survival, out of the need to protect myself, but the weight of that decision was crushing. I muttered to myself, a fragile attempt to justify the horrors I had witnessed and inflicted. "It was the right thing to do," I repeated as if the words could somehow erase the anguish that gnawed at my soul. But no matter how often I whispered those words, they couldn't erase the image of those young faces, their lives snuffed out before they had a chance to truly live. I fought back tears as I willed myself not to think about their families, their friends, the people who might be searching for them, never knowing the grisly truth. I pushed aside the guilt that clawed at my conscience—guilt for taking lives that weren't mine to take, for becoming a harbinger of death in a world that had lost its way. My knees buckled under the weight of it all, and a sob tore its way from my chest. The tears flowed freely now, mingling with the blood that coated my hands. The forest around me seemed to close in, a heavy shroud of sorrow that matched the agony in my heart. Amid this heart-wrenching tableau, a chilling reality settled in—I couldn't leave the bodies exposed to the world. My strength, both physical and emotional, had been drained, leaving me unable to properly honor the lives that had been lost. Instead, I gathered them as gently as I could, shrouding them beneath a tarp, a makeshift tribute to their brief existence. As the night enveloped the forest even more so than before, I knew sleep would be elusive. The weight of what I had done, what I had become, was too heavy to ignore. I sat by the tarp-covered bodies, my heart heavy with grief and remorse, and prayed for the solace of a dawn that would never truly break the darkness that had settled over my soul. The realization settled in like a lead weight—staying in the cabin, hidden away from the chaos outside, was a fragile haven that could shatter at any moment. The encounter with the desperate teens had driven home the perilous truth: if they had found me, it was only a matter of time before others followed. And next time, they might not be inexperienced adolescents.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tou3d/when_the_sun_set_forever_pt3/

scarystories

True-Region-2149

When the Sun Set Forever pt.2

In a time when chaos cast its suffocating grip over civilization, I once called a town nestled close to the sprawling city, my home. But as anarchy seized the world and the once-orderly fabric of society unraveled, that home became a place of terror and uncertainty. The streets that were once lined with friendly faces and familiar voices became marred by violence and lawlessness. The city, once a beacon of progress, had become a hellscape where desperation had taken root. Pillaging and murder were no longer whispered fears—they were the haunting reality that lurked around every corner. With a heavy heart and a sense of impending doom, I decided to leave behind the life I had known. My destination was my grandparents' cabin deep within the woods, a haven that had always stood as a sanctuary from the tumultuous world beyond. The journey was not without its perils, for the roads were treacherous and danger seemed to lurk behind every shadow. As I ventured further away from the city, the air grew cleaner, and the weight of desperation began to lift from my shoulders. The woods, once a place of childhood exploration, now offered a reprieve from the suffocating anarchy that had engulfed the world. Nature's beauty had a way of soothing my frazzled nerves, reminding me of a world that once existed. When I arrived at the cabin, a bittersweet relief washed over me. The quaint structure, nestled amidst towering trees and surrounded by the symphony of rustling leaves, felt like a sanctuary untouched by the madness of the outside world. Memories of summers spent with my grandparents flooded back, reminding me of simpler times when the world felt whole. Within those walls, I found refuge from the anarchy that had torn society apart. The tranquility of the woods, coupled with the distant echo of streams and the gentle rustle of leaves, was a reminder that there was still beauty in the world, even in the darkest of times. As I settled into a routine of survival, the cabin became my fortress against the chaos that raged beyond the trees. I found solace in the simplicity of chopping wood, foraging for food, and hunting any game I could find. The world beyond the woods felt like a distant memory, a nightmare that I had managed to escape. As I sat by the fire in my grandparents' cabin, I held onto the hope that one day, the world would find its way back to the light, and the anarchy that had gripped it would be replaced by a renewed sense of order and purpose. A glimmer of hope ignited within me as I awoke one morning to a faint, distant light on the horizon. My heart raced with anticipation, the possibility of the sun's return sending a surge of adrenaline through my veins. I stumbled out of my makeshift shelter and raced through the woods, my steps propelled by a mixture of excitement and trepidation. As I drew closer, the light grew in intensity, casting long shadows that danced through the trees. The world seemed to hold its breath as if nature itself was anticipating a moment of salvation. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind envisioning the return of daylight, the end of the eternal night that had held the world captive. As I burst through the tree line, my eyes widened in disbelief. The source of the light was not the sun—it was the city, far in the distance, engulfed in flames. A sickening realization washed over me like an icy wave. The city that had once symbolized civilization and order was now a blazing inferno, its towering buildings acting as fuel for a relentless blaze. I stood frozen in shock, the warm glow of the fire casting an eerie light on my surroundings. The crackling of the flames and the distant cries of chaos reached my ears, and the reality of the situation sunk in. The city was not ablaze with celebration but with destruction. What I had mistaken for the return of the sun was, in fact, the manifestation of humanity's descent into madness. The city, once a bustling hub of life, had become a funeral pyre for a world that had lost its way. The flames leaped and danced, a chaotic ballet that consumed everything in its path. The sky above was painted with ominous hues of red and orange, a macabre reflection of the destruction below. Tears welled in my eyes as the weight of the tragedy settled in. The flames that had promised a glimmer of hope were nothing more than a cruel illusion, a reminder of the world's unraveling. The anarchy that had taken hold had transformed a thriving metropolis into a symbol of humanity's darkest impulses. I stood there, a witness to the devastation, the crackling flames, and the distant cries merging into a symphony of despair. The city's destruction had become the world's biggest bonfire, an agonizing testament to the horrors that had unfolded in the wake of the sun's disappearance.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15torze/when_the_sun_set_forever_pt2/

scarystories

True-Region-2149

The Last Party at the Death Rattle - Part Two

Read [Part One](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16oy5cw/the_last_party_at_the_death_rattle/) --- So I went back to the old club, and I took the advice from the last thread. I bought a cheap three-pack of road flares and brought them along in case of emergency. There’s a two-hour window where the sun shines right over the club. I drove out there with anxiety brimming in my chest, and followed the dirt road up the hill. The sun made me feel a bit better. But in a few hours I knew this whole area would be cold, gloomy overcast – and I intended to be gone by then. The makeshift parking lot was just an empty patch of dirt now. Everything was gone including an old abandoned RV which had been there for years. I don’t know what prompted this shutdown, but whatever it was, the authorities were real serious about it. I had my gear in a duffel bag: Bolt cutters, a flashlight, heavy work gloves, and my flares. I put on the gloves and took the cutters and strapped the duffel bag over my back. The Death Rattle was unrecognizable in the daylight. The contorted roof ebbed and flowed with the building’s unnatural architecture. The painted sign had been removed and the door padlocked with a set of chains. There was no sign that this had once been a place of entertainment for residents of Santa Cruz with off-kilter tastes. It was hard for me to come back to this place. The last time I was here was with Theo. We saw the place was shut down but didn’t investigate any further. He didn’t really seem interested in getting to the bottom of things. I grabbed the six-pack of beers from under the passenger seat and I opened the first one. I sat in the driver seat of my car and watched the building while I drank. I finished the drink but I still wasn’t ready. Then about two and a half beers deep, I grabbed the duffel bag and the bolt cutters and I went in. It was extremely hard to get inside. I started cutting the chain before I realized it wasn’t just one lock. There were three of them with chains crisscrossed over the door. By the time I got it open, I was sweating and exhausted. I pushed open the front door. It was empty inside. The doors in the hall that looked like closets were all open. I turned on my flashlight and went inside. The interior was pitch black except for the aperture of sunlight flooding in through the long hall. I waved the beam of light across the dilapidated interior. The floor was black with moisture and mold, and there was a huge stain on the ceiling. I went through the hall and checked the upstairs rooms. They were all empty, including the sloped room. The floors and walls were riddled with mold stains. I went back to the hallway and stood at the top of the staircase. The flashlight illuminated the concrete stairs. I took a deep breath and went down the stairs. But the basement was empty. There was no bathtub, no chains. The door in the back was open, all the tape removed. I peered into the door and it led to a small closet with nothing inside. At this point I felt really weird. On the one hand I was relieved knowing the police scoured the place and presumably figured out whatever sketchy shit was going on. But on the other hand, here I was with no answers about Sam. I went back up the stairs and left the building with a heavy sense of crushing disappointment. And from here I can’t really explain what I saw. I just need you guys to trust me that this really happened, I’m not making things up, and I definitely didn’t hallucinate it. When I left the club, Theo stood next to my car. His new truck was parked at the edge of the dirt patch. He looked at me and said: “Hey, man. How you been?” I was stunned but how different he looked. His clothes were clean and professional, his hair was slicked with pomade. He flicked the butt of his cigarette and stomped it into the dirt. I couldn’t find any words, so I just said his name: “Theo?” “It’s been a while,” he said. “What are you doing here?” I said. “Same as you, I guess,” he said. “I couldn’t get Sam out of my mind.” “Have you been back inside?” I said. “The cops stripped it clean. There’s nothing left.” “Not quite nothing,” he said. “There’s a hidden compartment under the bar with some bottles of Jack.” “Really?” He laughed and said, “Nah, I'm just messing around. Hey, you wanna split? We should grab a couple beers and catch up.” We both drove to some sports bar in downtown Santa Cruz which he frequented. The bartender was happy to see him. They exchanged some friendly words before the bartender served our drinks and left us to chat. We drank heavily and avoided the subject of Sam. Around three in the morning, Theo stood up to excuse himself. But I interrupted him and said: “You wanna go look for Sam?” He was dumbstruck by this question. After an awkward silence he said: “Why bother? The police did their jobs.” “Maybe we’ll find something we missed,” I said. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I offered to buy him a round of drinks in exchange for humoring me. So he agreed. After we finished our beers, we drove to the old Death Rattle and parked in the empty lot. It was early in the evening, but the trees cast shadows over the property. I switched off the ignition and grabbed the last three beers from behind my seat. Theo gave me a look, and I just shrugged. Then I grabbed my flashlight and duffel bag, and I led the way through the breached front door. Theo followed closely and we trekked down the stairs into the dank basement. I scanned the room with the flashlight. Somebody had shut the door. “What’s the matter?” Theo said. I said, “Hold this,” and handed the flashlight to Theo. He fixed the light on me while I approached the door and tried opening it. The door was stuck. “What’s wrong?” he said. “It’s stuck,” I replied. I tugged harder and the door yanked open. Then nothing happened. No wind, no energy. Just a dark and empty closet. I couldn’t make out anything inside. “Give me the flashlight,” I said. There was no reply. I turned around and the person behind me shined the light in my eyes. I covered my face and tried to make out who was standing there. “What’s the matter?” I said. A figure loomed behind Theo. Tall, heavyset, bald. The man didn’t speak or move. I was scared out of my mind. He clicked a switch in his hand and the basement was engulfed in darkness. Theo gasped quietly, and dropped his flashlight to the floor. It cracked open and the light died. Then there was silence. I grabbed a road flare from my bag and twisted it alight. The basement illuminated with a ghastly red glow, and I saw the bald man standing there. It was the bald man in the genie costume, only now he stood bare naked. We made eye contact and I saw a sick look in his eyes that I’ll never forget. He came toward me, and I stuck the tip of the flare into his gut. The flame died out and he screamed loudly. I could smell the scent of burning flesh and all light died. He charged into me and I fell to the floor. Dazed, I grabbed another flare from my bag and twisted it alight. Then I stuck it ahead of me. The stranger’s bare feet thudded against the concrete stairs. He was holding his stomach and panting like an overworked dog while he ran up the stairs. Theo lay on the ground before me with thin wire tied around his neck. He thrashed his feet and clawed at his neck, and he looked at me with begging eyes. I turned him over and worked at the back of the wire. The edges were sharp and it was too tight to undo by hand. I promised Theo a quick return before I went up the stairs. The stranger hadn’t bothered to shut the door behind him. I glanced around in the dark hall but couldn’t see anything past the red glow in my hand. The front door was wide open. In the back of my mind I thought the man would jump me the moment I stepped outside. But the stranger was nowhere to be seen. I went to my car and grabbed a switchblade from the glovebox, then I ran back to Theo. He was barely moving when I got back down to the basement. His mouth opened and closed while foam spilling onto the concrete. His bloodred eyes protruded from their sockets. I kneeled down and carefully dug the blade of my knife under the wire and I started sawing at the metal. It was tough as hell and wouldn’t cut. I told Theo he’d be okay. But it took forever to cut the thing loose, and by then Theo was dead. I released the wire from his throat and he rolled over totally limp. Bloody foam oozed out of his mouth and his eyes stared at the ceiling devoid of speculation. I stayed with him for a while before I went home. I didn’t mess with his body, but I grabbed his keys so nobody could steal his truck. I don’t know what to do. I want to reach out to Rachel but I’m worried she’ll get angry and think I’m joking. But she’s the only one that knows what happened that night. I have to talk to her.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qjxz9/the_last_party_at_the_death_rattle_part_two/

nosleep

408Lurker

Something stole the colour of the world from me.

There I sat in my half broken down office chair, in front of which was the table where upon once stretched arcs of paper where I wrote down the world i created in my own mind. Now it was replaced by a screen where all I could see was the flawed lines of tatherd ideas and half strung together dialogue. Despite its messy state, i always felt pride when i looked upon the text. Becouse it was mine, and i used to think that that feeling could never be taken from me. I closed my eyes and grabbed my head, pain flaring up as a migraine set in. In the depths of my mind I know it's my own fault, but still I cast mean words to the god that might hang in the sky for cursing me with such a blight. I sighed, opening my eyes to once again scan the seemingly never-ending slurry of what might one day becoene a fabtasy book. Yet there among the aches, and deepths of my thinking, a noise arose. It was small, barely noticeable over the sound of my ancient computer's constant humming. The sound of metal against metal, a low scrape. Despite my almost delirious state, I shoot up, confusion setting in, mingled with fear. I breathed out, slouching back down over my keyboard. ‘I live in the suburbs’ I thought to myself. ‘Probably just some idiot taking out the trash’. I try to refocus on my task, yet the words just seem to swim past me, my eyes unable to find even a hint of meaning among the humbled words. From hyper focus to no focus, quite typical for myself. I pushed myself away from the table, my chair rolling me back almost to the door. I got up, my back felt stiff and painful, like that of an old man. I walk out the door, moving across the hallway to the door leading to the staircase to the first floor. I kick the door stopper in under the door, continuing into the kitchen. My back leaned against the kitchen island and my eyes to the window that looked out into the endless abyss that was the forest that stood back to back with my small garden. I can almost smell the wet dirt and crisp night air. It calls to me in a way, perhaps calling fourth a deep-set gene of constant yearning for the outside. I grabbed a coat from the coat hanger, walking out the back door onto my small raised patio. It is protected from the rain by a large patio cover. Three years ago me and my father spent three days building it. Now I was alone, and him with my mother in the bed of the endless. I sat down on the steps leading down to my small garden, right on the edge of where the patio cover ended and I would be exposed to the rain and wind. Even in my darker hours i knew nature always persisted. For a moment the world felt surreal, like I could just breathe out and drift away into the sky on an adventure away from what we called reality. If I were to just…. I snapped to my senses as rain hit my head, my slumping body almost falling down the stairs. I chuckled to myself, realizing that perhaps it's time for me to head to bed. I got up onto my feet, throwing one more glance at the ever-pouring rain before going back inside. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, my eyes feeling like they were filled with lead as I filled the glass with water and sipped it for a few seconds, before pouring it back into the sink. My tired self half shuffled to the door down into the basement, opening it with a tired hand as I slowly made my descent down the staircase. Entering my room, I immediately started undressing. Exhaustion filled my entire body, my sluggish movements only sped up by the prospect of a warm comfy bed. Yet as I lifted the blanket to my bed, a thought struck me: “Didn't I leave the door to the basement open on my way out?” My body tensed up, my throat closing up as fear sent a cold freezing blizzard coursing through my body. The before comfy room suddenly felt alien to me, every item seeming to be slightly out of place. I stood still, a perfect silence draping around me like a wet uncomfortable shirt. I tried shaking the thought off as just my brain being on a sleep deprived anxiety run, yet one detail clung with me: I remember placing the door-stop under the door. I crept into my bed, wrapping the blanket around me. My eyes were turned to my door, a slither of light from the lights upstairs cast upon its half open surface. For a moment I just stared, my eyes not even blinking. Yet as the minutes ticked by, nothing happened, and my tensed up body started to relax. I could feel my eyes slowly closing, each blink becoming longer and longer. Yet as my soon failing eyes began to close for one final time, I did not fail to see the shadowy silhouette that moved against the door. My eyes slowly opened, taking in the room around me. For a moment I simply lay in my bed, feeling the world around me. A trickle of light shone through my open door. I recalled what happened the night before, and all I could remember was those two seconds before my eyes sealed shut. I shook my head. I wanted to dismiss it all as just a dream, yet I knew it was real. As my eyes once again scanned the room, I felt…. Strange. The world felt… Empty in a way. I sat down in my chair, opening up my draft. I scanned the texts, and felt… Nothing. I got out of my chair, walking upstairs and in the kitchen, staring out at the forest. The previously mysterious beauty now felt bleak and hollow, like I saw it for what it actually was for the first time. I sat down onto the floor, my back against the wall and my eyes blankly staring into the abyss Life is simply a lens our consciousness uses to entertain itself. A thin coat covers it that adds flavor to the world. Which makes us enjoy the feeling of accomplishment, the colors of a rainbow and the smells of spice. Yet when that coat is removed, what is left? Nothing. Whatever got into my house that night took the coat from me, and now all I see is a blank hollow world in were everything that I once cherished im now unable to see in the light i once did. Something stole the colour of the world from me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qmd20/something_stole_the_colour_of_the_world_from_me/

nosleep

Under_Average_IQ

I joined the most bizarre Arts and Crafts Club...

I used to have a career; a nine to five in the city. I used to wear suits, heels and carry briefcases down the streets of London like I owned the damn tarmac. Now I wake up at five am to a screaming baby and a toddler smashing a two day old banana he found under the couch into the walls like he's Basquiat. Now i'm lucky if I have time to brush my hair and I swear if I have to listen to baby shark one more time I'll end up with soup for brains. *I am an ok mum*. I swear. It's just - *it's not for me*. If I could go back in time I'd probably still have the little gremlins but it'd be a damn hard decision. One day it'll be over, they'll be eighteen and I'll set them free. That's what gets me through. That and arts and crafts group. I found out about the class in one of those awful mum's groups on facebook. I swear every mum has joined one of those: awful dark places full of frantic pictures of rashes and endless vitriolic debates over co-sleeping and breastfeeding. I first joined to share my own rather worried post regarding my son's very green poop. It turned out the little shit had eaten a crayon, but that's getting off-topic. The post was welcoming, warm, and a pleasant distraction from the orchestra of hypochondria the group had otherwise become. ​ >Hi there! > >Just a little heads up to all you mumma's out there in the big city! We are hosting a lovely arts and crafts club at the Grantham community centre. All are welcome for tea, coffee and refuge from our little angels. There is on-site childcare for a small added fee. Let's get crafting! > >Love and kisses, Sharon It was a little much, very live laugh love, but they had me at "small fee" and "childcare". I turned up for my first session with my toddler on my hip and my newborn squalling for no discernable reason. I all but chucked them at the sixteen year old crèche worker. The group was congregating on the upper floor in a disgustingly gaudy room. There were origami flowers for wallpaper and IKEA bookcases full to bursting with arts and craft tomes the length of war and peace. The group were huddled around a large oval table and appeared to be making macrame coasters. I felt all the eyes in the room turn to face me, and I nervously lifted my hand to offer a small wave of greeting. "Little late my dear, you must be… Lucy, yes that's it." A woman with a purple bandana looked down at her notes. Her tone was disturbingly sweet. "I'm Sharon, the group leader. In future if you could show up a little earlier that would be great as there is a lot of crafting to fit into our very limited time slot here in the Grantham Community Centre.” I'd worked for high end law firms that were less strict than Sharon. In another life she would have made a great prison officer, but fate had transpired to place her here, at a women’s craft group on the wrong side of South London. "So as we have a new member, we ought to introduce ourselves my lovelies." Sharon chirped. It was as you'd expect: a group of stay at home mothers so stir-crazy that sitting around a table with Sharon turning bog roll tubes into bird feeders was a welcome refuge. Everyone introduced themselves to me in quick succession. There was Natasha who would become a dear friend to me, she had triplet sons, yikes. Then there was Shabnab who somehow managed to juggle parenting, crafting and a small online business selling homemade jams. She would say in her disgusting boastful way, “If there’s time left in the day I’m not doing it right”. There was also Serena and Evelyn, Cassidy and Summer and the very quiet but articulate Jane who had been a lawyer like me in her past life. Sharon's introduction came last. Rather dramatically, she stood to her feet like a politician at a hustings. "As the rest of you know I'm Sharon. I'm mum to five little girls, Mckinleigh, Brinleigh, Farleigh, Marileigh and Samileigh." She regurgitated a top five worst names list. "I know you might have noticed my bandana." She pointed at her head. She was indeed wearing a bandana. The flatness with which the gaudy fabric clung to her round and puffy face suggested to me she had no hair. "I have stage four cancer. A very rare type and there's no cure. This time next year I won't be here." Sharon's voice quivered but she regained control of it. "Crafting is my refuge and I'm so happy to have you ladies to share my last year with. I'm very sure Lucy that you and I are going to be good friends and I welcome you to our little group with love and warmth!" It was a bit of a mood dampener but I felt for her, I really did. Something about Sharon made me feel uneasy though. There was disingenuity laced into her voice: the sickly sweet of a candle pretending to smell like cupcakes. As uncomfy as Sharon made me feel, the Arts and Crafts club was great. I'd dump the kids at the crèche and have actual adult conversations with other women as disenfranchised with the whole mothering schtick as me. Sharon of course was an outlier. She loved being a mother, and oh how she liked to remind us. "I just love my babies. Samileigh has never cried once in her entire life." She beamed one day as she gently embroidered little daisies into a baby onesie. "Well Tommy ate his own booger today and started crying because it was the last one." I grumbled, flinching as I stabbed my finger with the needle. My embroidery wasn't very good. I was trying to make a dog but it looked more like a gerbil that had been hit by a car. "Adorable." Sharon made intense and judgemental eye contact with me as if challenging me to express dissatisfaction. Natasha snorted. Sharon kept staring at me. "Some kids just develop a little slower." As the weeks went by Sharon grew thinner. She was going through one last round of chemotherapy to try and prolong what little life she had left. The group had arranged a little fundraiser for a Bowel Cancer Charity to take her mind off it. I personally thought a trip to the cinema would have worked out better but I was outvoted. Sat outside our little stall selling macrame wall hangings, crocheted hats and air-dry clay monstrosities that were supposed to be trinket trays, was when I realised there was something exceedingly wrong with Sharon. "I was thinking next week I could bring in some of my hair to class. I've been saving it and I want to make something for my girls to remember me by." It was a bit weird, but I could understand her motive. "Paintbrushes. I want to turn my hair into paint brushes for them." I screamed internally. "Or you could uhm, put it into a… ugh I dunno, a locket? You can get them at H. Samuels. We could all chip in." I suggested, unable to hide the disgust on my face. "No, I want to be practical. I want to be used, I want my hair to be a tool, you know?" She said as if the urge was a natural one. “That way I’ll be useful to my girls, you understand?” "I don't no." I replied curtly. "She's got cancer, you dingbat, we do whatever she wants." Serena hissed at me when Sharon went for a loo break. Maybe she was right. Who was I to judge how a terminally ill woman processed her denouement? A very nihilistic and awful part of me questioned whether having cancer awarded you the sort of diplomatic immunity that Serena seemed to suggest Sharon was entitled to, but that’s a debate for the philosophers. I know what you're thinking, *why keep going back?* It's a good question. I've asked myself about forty times. I liked it there, even as all the nonsense was going on, I liked it more than I liked my life at home and that's possibly a conversation I need to have with a therapist. Over the weeks of Arts and Crafts Club, there was an unsteady oscillation between strange and mundane, reliably however, each week Sharon grew sicker and skinnier. Her skin had turned translucent blue and it clung over her bones like a deflated latex balloon. One week we’d be knitting body-warmers and gloves to keep her increasingly bony frame warm, by the next we’d be drilling holes into teeth that had rotted out of her gums to turn them into little beads for her daughters to wear as bracelets, possibly in anticipation for auditions for the Hills Have Eyes Four. “This is getting ridiculous.” Shabnab whispered to me one day as Sharon handed around small vials of oddly pink milk that she had informed us had been freshly pumped as Samileigh had missed her morning feed. “I’m all for breastfeeding, you could whip your tit out under my face and I wouldn’t give a damn, but I’m not bloody crafting with it.” “You go ahead Shabnab, tell the terminally ill woman that you think she’s disgusting, you go girl.” I gritted my teeth, feeling oddly satisfied that I wasn’t the only one disillusioned with Sharon’s nonsense. Shabnab narrowed her eyes. “How can she breastfeed anyway when she’s on all that medication.” Jane mused, being careful to limit her voice to a low whisper. A brilliant question I only wished we had pondered further. “You all have a vial of my breast milk, we shall be pouring it into the resin moulds, and then, when the moulds are half full we can all proceed with adding the contents of the provided sachets.” Sharon stood shakily out of her wheelchair. She pointed to a small bowl of ziplock bag. I was the first to take one from the centre of the table. If I lived in a pleasant multiverse where Sharon was just a harmless lady selling gym wear in a pyramid scheme I would have assumed that what those little bags of fun contained was simply dried fruit. However, I knew that reality would be much worse. “Umbilical cords, these are my babies’ umbilical cords, also included are little chunks from their placentas. There’s also some of my uterine lining from my last period. I popped them through my dehydrator. This craft is all about the sanctity of motherhood. We shall be preserving my femininity for eternity.” “She’s so weird. I can’t take it anymore.” Shabnab whispered to me. She thrust backwards and her chair screeched across the floor. “I’m going to say something.” “I know right, who has space in their kitchen for a dehydrator.” I muttered. “This is vile Sharon, I’m not taking part in this disgusting craft. I’m at the end of my terror, each week you concoct some obscenity for us to construct. I’m going to need therapy from this and we all make excuses for you as you have cancer. Well boo-fucking-hoo.” Shabnab sputtered out. Summer gasped and Jane’s eyes widened as if a train was hurtling towards her. All the air in the room was sucked out instantaneously and replaced with hot, uncomfortable steam. “I’m finished here. Ladies, next Tuesday night you are much welcome at my house instead of craft club, perhaps I shall start a little jam-making club of my own. Bodily fluids not included.” With that she left. Sharon’s teeth began to scrape together and her anger was so palpable I was surprised it didn't split off and become a second Sharon. After a pregnant pause crafting commenced. Sharon told me my resin heart was the best as I had laid out the little nuggets of placenta in the shape of an S for Sharon in an achievement I compare to collecting my masters degree. Shabnab was serious about her jam-making club; she had even made little posters that she spread all around the Grantham Community Centre. The time of the club, rather decisively I expected, conflicted with crafting club. Rather suspiciously a few of these posters were vandalised with perfectly pastel pens of a similar hue to Sharon’s carefully colour-coded collection. "I might go.” Summer whispered to me. “To Shabnab’s, instead of here next week.” “I would, but I’m just here for the babysitting, unless Shabnab opens a creche I’m out.” I said to her, “I’m going to ride this crazy train right to the end.” One by one everyone began to defect to Shabnab’s Jam-Making Bonanza. First It was Summer, then Jane, then Evelyn. Eventually it was only me, Natasha and Cassidy left to keep Sharon company who with each defection she grew more and more foul-tempered. “Her jam’s taste awful ladies. I bought a marmalade for Brinleigh and she spat it out. She prefers mine. I buy it from the store in a jar, but I add my own little special sauce to it. I think Shabnab is a bad influence on you girls, I heard a rumour about her you know…” Sharon told us and she leant across the table secretly as if she was about to tell us where Jimmy Hoffa was buried. “She doesn’t wash her hands before she makes her jams.” “Scandalous.” I mouthed and Sharon put her hand to her heart. “She’ll have to come back one day, she left her crafting knife and it cost her a pretty penny. It’s a cricut one. But you girls let me handle her, I don’t want her to indoctrinate anymore of you.” Sharon said. “I’ve lost enough, without losing you lovelies too.” Shabnab did in fact come to retrieve her cricut crafting knife. She came at the end of class when everyone was leaving holding a passive-aggressive jam basket for Sharon. I waved at her before the door shut behind her and Sharon. Crafting club started to get a little more normal in the coming weeks. Sharon was still ill and she was growing weaker and weaker, but we were actually making useful things. Instead of macrame wall hangings made out of Sharon’s hair we were learning book-binding with pig-leather Sharon had purchased on etsy. Gone were body-fluids sealed in resin paperweights and here to stay were carved ivory statuettes. I figured Sharon had run out of ideas and/or bodily secretions. “I have to get off early my lovelies, it’s Samileigh’s birthday.” Sharon said gently, “I do hope you all stay and finish rendering your pig fat for next week’s candle-making session.” The scent of over-cooked bacon hung in the air and I must admit to being dubious how the culmination of this would be a peony-scented candle, but I intended to trust the process, just as Sharon had suggested. I turned my little slab of cooking bacon, slightly dubious as to it’s faintly yellow hue. Sharon said she bought it at the butcher’s, it was probably grass-fed or something, I was used to the cheap crap from Aldi. “Oh, she’s left her little blood sugar testing kit.” Cassidy grimaced, picking up a small little beaded bag. “Oh… these are the beads we made from her… oh… ew.” She dropped the bag with a grimace and a thud. “Oh no! she’ll need that, does anyone have her number?” Natasha looked around, everyone shook their heads and slowly they all turned to face me. “You have a car… why don’t you drop it off, her address is on the fire register at the front desk, she stays at Queen’s Crescent I think, it’s basically on your way home.” “Fine.” I grunted. I grabbed the little bag and stuffed it into my car. I only had the toddler today as the baby was with my mother for a weekend. I bounced him on my hip. I arrived at Queen’s crescent rather promptly, I was desperate to get home and I had a half a mind to just leave the bag on her doorstep and run. Last thing I needed was to get caught up in a conversation with Sharon, or worse yet, meet her children. I approached her gaudy yellow door, and ignored the incessant buzzing I felt in my pocket. I chapped the little rose-shaped knocker once, then twice before finally it opened. “Oh.. Hi, um… You left your um… delightfully decorated bag.” I held up the little duffel bag. Sharon yanked it from my hand and nervously looked behind me to the street below. She seemed to ponder shutting the door on me, but a devilish glint touched her eye. “Do you want to come in for a tea?” *No,* was my immediate reaction. She glanced at my toddler whom sagged against me, his eyes heavy and black from sleep-deprivation. The little shit only slept once every four weeks. Before I could concoct some half-true excuse about having to pick up the baby and put the toddler to his bed, Sharon prodded me inside. Her house was…. *Gaudy*. The walls were a sickening yellow and every bit of space was covered with intermediate paintings of flowers and beaches. Sharon pushed her way through the piles of bric-a-brac and guided me into her kitchen. Every inch of the surface was covered. Kettles, portable stove-tops, and the fabled dehydrator. There were no bottle-prep stations nor any sterilisers. For a woman with five children her house felt quiet, eerily so. “Two sugars and a milk?” Sharon put her kettle on. She pulled out a hand-made mug from her overfull cupboard. “I have some breast milk spare for your boy… put him right to sleep. I have magical teats.” *I didn’t doubt it.* “No. He’s fine. I’m trying to wean him.” I said carefully. *I wanted out*. Something felt wrong. The hairs on my arm were standing upright and my toddler was pulling at my hair. My phone was buzzing in my pocket but I held the button to switch it off. “Where's the kids Sharon?” “Watching television in the living room. Why don’t you go say hello whilst I get these cookies out the oven. I made them with my own butter that I churned from my own supply of milk.” *Spiffing.* I trudged through to her living room. My footsteps felt like drum beats as I walked through her silent house. She was right. A line of children and toddlers sat along the floor in front of her flat-screen. The youngest looked nearly two. My toddler broke free of my gasp and went to join them. His little hand reached out for the five-year old. Brinleigh. He tugged on her arm, yet she did not move, she was still, her skin pale and tough. He tugged again and a large ripping sound filled the room. Her arm… *her arm had come off.* *Oh no.* Her skin was taut leather and her fat was worn stuffing. Clouds of white cotton-candy fluff spewed out across the floor. I moved forward to pick my kid up, goose pimples forming a rash on my arm. Sharon was crazy, crazier than we all thought. Then I saw it, glimmering silver and white with finishing touches of teal-blue, a cricut knife tinged red. *Shabnab’s.* Brinleigh was made of leather and her teeth looked real too, but sharp, as if they were all canines. Her eyes were glass yet seemed to move as I crossed the room to retrieve my frantic toddler, who moved down the rows of children trying to wake them from their endless slumber. I had to get out. I had to get out. Sharon was coming, I could hear her in the hallway. I grabbed his arm and struggled free and when I turned to flee she was there, grinning like Cheshire cat with a tray full of tea and oddly sickening scented cookies. She glanced at the pools of stuffing and worn leather, at the solitary glass eye that rolled chaotically across the living room floor. I rebounded backwards and screamed, yet she did not move. Her head jerked to the side. I had never felt such terror. It coursed through me turning my veins into hot, scourging fire. My head hit into a wind chime. It rattled and shook and when I turned to look at it I saw that it was made of ribs; long and elegant. “Beautiful aren’t they? Such a pretty sound, puts Samileigh right to sleep.” Sharon said, numbly picking up the stuffing and setting the tray of teas down onto the coffee table. “I’m…. I have to go…. I have to go…” I said as my toddler clung to me, quiet for a change. “Oh I don’t think so.” She picked up the cricut knife and tossed it around her fingers. “I need more lard for the candles and more leather for the notebooks and a fresh lot of intestines to make sausages with. My girls do love sausages…” She moved fast. I collapsed and sagged against the front door as she chased me with her cricut knife. I managed to get down the stairs with her at my back. I fled out in the cold refuge of the outdoors and by some miracle I made it to my car. Only when I was half a street away did I think to call the police and when I popped the phone open a slew of messages told me what I already knew. *Shabnab is missing. The police are on the way. It was Sharon. Don’t go.* *It looks like I’ll need to find a new craft club.* ​

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16q54rh/i_joined_the_most_bizarre_arts_and_crafts_club/

nosleep

middleoflidl

My first journal log

As an author, inspiration can strike at any moment. Mine struck me on a weekend retreat in the woods. My friends decided it was time for a digital detox, but being a writer, I never truly disconnect. So while they went for a hike, I explored an old, decrepit cabin we'd discovered earlier. The floor creaked with each step, as if groaning under the weight of its years. My eyes caught sight of a loose floorboard. Call it writer's intuition or simple curiosity; I had to see what was underneath. I pried it open and found a worn, leather-bound journal. I sat down, sunlight slicing through the broken window, and began flipping through its pages. The journal was a cornucopia of horror stories, each more terrifying than the last. The fascinating thing was the different styles of handwriting—each story appeared to be penned by a different author. A question clawed at the back of my mind: Who were these people? Were they like me, authors who stumbled upon this journal? And where were they now? Ignoring a shiver crawling up my spine, I decided to add my own tale to the journal. I wrote about a creature lurking in the forest, its eyes like glowing embers, stalking campers and vanishing without a trace. As I wrote the last sentence, the journal trembled in my hands. I felt the ink soak not just into the paper but into the very air around me. I slammed the book shut, startled, and stuffed it back under the floorboard. Rushing outside, I was greeted by the laughter and chatter of my friends returning from their hike. I said nothing about the journal, shaking off my unease as overactive imagination. But that night, as we sat around the campfire, I saw them—eyes, glowing like burning embers, flickering in and out of the darkness beyond the trees. My story was no longer confined to the pages of a journal; it had breathed life into my most horrifying creation. I felt a cold dread settle over me. Had the other authors experienced this? Had they unleashed their own horrors upon the world? What had become of them? The fire suddenly felt insufficient to ward off the darkness that surrounded us. The journal, hidden away in the cabin, seemed to call out to me, offering both a terrible opportunity and an ominous warning. I looked at my friends, oblivious to the monster lurking at the fringes of our campsite, and wondered—had I written a tale, or had the tale written me? I understood then that the journal was more than a collection of stories; it was a repository of nightmares, handed down from one author to another. Each writer contributing to its pages played a part in a chain of unfolding horrors, the consequences of which were as real as they were unimaginable. And now, with my tale added, I had become a link in that chain, forever bound to the nightmares penned in that leather-bound journal. The only question that remained was, what would happen if I dared to write again? As I pondered this, lost in thought, I barely registered the soft rustling of leaves, the subtle snap of a twig breaking, and the ever-present glow of ember-like eyes, watching and waiting in the darkness. In this new reality, the mere thought of sleep became a distant dream.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qbbsq/my_first_journal_log/

nosleep

DanterDv

My wife made a scavenger hunt for me, I wish I'd never completed it...

I rolled from bed and shuffled like a zombie across the hardwood floors of the hallway and into the kitchen. The aroma of coffee washed over me in a wave. I eagerly poured a cup of black gold and added some pumpkin creamer. It tasted like heaven on my lips. It wasn’t until after my second cup and three fried eggs later that I discovered the note on the counter. My wife’s flawless handwriting was eloquently scribbled on a torn notebook page lying next to the paper towel dispenser. *John,* *Enjoy your bachelor weekend at home! I’ll miss you very much. But before you break into the beer and call your friends, can you please take care of these things for me?* *Much love,* *Evie.* I sighed expecting a bulleted list of errands, but when I flipped over the note it wasn’t that at all. Scavenger Hunt was written in large bold letters at the top of the page. “Evelynn you magnificent woman.” I chuckled. She knew I was an absolute fool for puzzles and games. I loved them. Couldn’t get enough of them. She had been hesitant to go on a girls trip for the weekend, I think she felt guilty leaving me alone and also for spending the money. We had plenty of it, but she grew up poor and it made her very frugal. I’d pushed her along and eventually talked her into going. She worked hard and needed the break, plus I really didn’t mind. This was probably her way of feeling better about the decision. Leaving me some joy while she was on vacation. The note read, *“Take the cell phone in the junk drawer, the passcode is 3808. A series of emails will be sent on a timed schedule for how long I think it will take for you to complete each item, so don’t dally John.* *P.S. there’s a present at the end.”* A heart was drawn next to my name. I opened the junk drawer in the kitchen. An iPhone with a palm tree wallpaper suddenly buzzed with an email notification. “Woooow…” I whispered. She really stepped it up on this one. I swiped at the notification and punched in the passcode as instructed. There was only one email, from an email address I didn’t recognize. I opened it. *“To where we had our first meet, your first clue is under the seat.”* Easy. Bentino’s Italian Restaurant. We’d first started talking on a dating app and then agreed to meet the first time over linguini, it was her favorite dish. I quickly threw on my joggers and denim jacket and hit the door. After a ten minute drive across town I parked at the swanky eatery. A cobblestone path led to a stucco building that overlooked the bay. Rose vines climbed trellises next to large stained glass windows. The lot was packed. They’d only just opened for lunch and it was already bustling with patrons. I’d told the hostess my party was already inside and she waved me through to the dining room. I racked my brain, trying to remember exactly where we had sat but there was no way to recall exactly. It was four years ago after all. So I made a fool of myself looking under half the tables in the restaurant. I wasn’t so discrete about it either. How could you be? I made up a story that I had gotten spaghetti sauce on my hand and taken off my wedding ring to clean it and it must have fallen and rolled away. People were more than happy to let me check, feigning concern for my misfortune. But it wasn’t until about table number fifteen where I saw it. It was a thick piece of chrome duct tape on the underside of a table near the bar. I carefully peeled it back to reveal a car key. I furrowed my brow in confusion but quickly stuffed it into my pocket. I slipped my ring out of my sleeve and held it up high, announcing to the diners and curious waitstaff that I’d found it. They were even kind enough to applaud. As quick as I could without running, I rushed out of the building. My face was hot with excitement and embarrassment. It was a KIA key. How strange. I looked around the parking lot, but there were several KIA’s. I decided to press the alarm button and a white SUV began to honk noisily. After hitting the unlock button to silence it I heard a ding in my pocket from the cellphone. It was another email. I fumbled to open it, nearly dropping the phone. *“Take the rental car I got for you to a place where church and state lose their separation. A place where vows were said after much preparation. Your next clue will be under a bench, but the hike won’t be a cinch.”* A place where church and state lose their separation… I scratched at the stubble on my chin. Ah! The courthouse on Main. The church being the wedding portion of the riddle, that occurred in a state building. That had to be it. We had decided to have a small courthouse wedding with only a few friends as witnesses because we wanted to spend our wedding budget on a lavish honeymoon in the Caribbean. It had definitely been the right call. Her riddles weren’t very difficult to solve, but I was blown away by the mystery phone and rental car. She was really going all out. I made a mental note to prepare something sweet for her like this. Something with some real thought behind it. I got into the SUV and was smacked in the face by the smell of cleaner and nearly gagged. It was like tropical pineapple mixed with bleach. It seemed the rental company went a little overboard with the detailing, but it was a nice car. I made my way over to Main Street with the windows down and parked in front of the courthouse. It was a small, shanty building in comparison to the multi-story office buildings that shouldered it. After making my way through the double doors I began looking under the benches that lined the hall adjacent to the courtroom. I could vaguely hear a proceeding taking place on the other side of the wall but it came through muffled and mumbled. It took longer than it should have because everytime someone would come down the passageway I had to sit on the bench and look unsuspicious, pretending to read something on my phone. But eventually I found the right one. There was a map taped on the underside of the bench among the clusters of dried gum. One of Briarwood National Park, which was about half an hour north of town. I’d been there before but not in ages. There was a route highlighted in red with an X maybe a couple miles around the outskirts of the park. Looks like you still stayed pretty close to the road the whole time. I’m betting she did that because she knew I had a terrible sense of direction and didn’t want me to get lost. I grinned and tucked the map in my back pocket. Another email came through as I got back into the rental. *“A little fresh air and you’re almost there. Make sure you bring a shovel, your present will exceed your expectations by at least double.”* That made me laugh, I was going to have to give her a hard time about her rhymes when she got home. They were clever but incredibly silly. On my way upstate I stopped at a rinky-dink hardware store and picked up a shovel. The cashier had jested that it was a little late in the season for gardening but I had told him the wife had me doing some light landscaping and he hit me with the happy wife, happy life routine. I didn’t disagree. I admired the evergreens and mighty pine trees as I twisted through the mountain side. It had been too long since I’d left the city. Evelynn had always talked about getting a second home in the country, one we could escape to on long weekends… maybe she was onto something there. But how long had she been planning this? When had she had time to come up to the park and bury something for me to find? And to think it wasn’t even my birthday. I parked in a small lot at the entrance of the park. There was a crisp chill to the air but the sun was plenty warm. I took a deep breath of fresh air and exaggerated my exhale mightily. I carried the shovel like a prized trophy as I hiked along the footpath that shouldered a side road. There wasn’t much traffic but every few minutes I could hear a car whizz by through the trees. It was beautiful and just what I needed. For the past month I had been drowning in bank statements, invoices and tax forms. I worked at an accounting firm and we were trying to wrap up our fourth quarter financials. Needless to say it had been a stressful road to the upcoming holidays. Thank you Evie, I thought as I periodically stopped to pick up walnuts and chuck them through the underbrush. After about half an hour of a pleasant stroll I reached where the map said I needed to be. I scanned the area, kicking through orange and yellow leaves and overturning branches that had fallen from above until I found a large patch of disturbed earth. It looked like something had recently been buried here. I thought about playing my workout playlist as I dug but decided to enjoy the silence of nature instead. After about another half hour of digging I hit something that felt solid. Man she really buried this deep. Despite the fall temperatures I was soaked in sweat. After brushing away some soil I discovered that it was a large duffel bag, maybe five feet long. I continued to quickly claw away dirt and mud to free it completely and grabbed the strap and gave it a heave. God it was heavy. Had to be over a hundred pounds. After a struggle I got it up on level ground. Breathing heavily, I pulled the zipper down half way. Blonde hair and an arm sprung out from the opening. “Jesus Christ!” I screamed, falling backward and scooting away from the bag frantically on all fours. “What the fuck…” It was a body… The sun glinted off hot pink nail polish where the arm jutted out at an odd angle, like it had to have been broken to fit in the bag. I heaved up the contents of my stomach in some nearby brush before slowly approaching the duffel once more. A face stared back up at me, but not just any face… “Oh God, Sam…” It was Samantha Peachie. A woman I worked with. A woman I had been… sleeping with… There was a jagged cut across her throat where worms wriggled among the meat. The cut was so deep that her neck bone glistened like ivory. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling at it as I sobbed. A scream gurgled up in my throat as I gazed into her dead, dull eyes… but then it was silenced by a notification on the phone from Evie. I brought a shaky hand to my mouth as I read it. *“My heart did tear, once I discovered your affair. Now you’ll both pay, you’d better run, the police are on their way.* *P.S. Your DNA is on everything. Her car, her phone and probably still inside her. Goodbye John.”* Sirens began to wail in the distance as I finally understood it hadn’t been a scavenger hunt at all. I was being framed. P.S. there’s a present at the end…

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pgeix/my_wife_made_a_scavenger_hunt_for_me_i_wish_id/

nosleep

[deleted]

If you find an old N64 game called Desert War, DO NOT PLAY IT! (part 3)

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16imw6c/if_you_find_an_old_n64_game_called_desert_war_do/) [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n9yud/if_you_find_an_old_n64_game_called_desert_war_do/) The GameStop at the mall in Fremont opened at 10. I drove like a maniac trying to get there before then—I simply couldn’t risk someone else buying the game. It was 10:05 when I arrived at the store, sweat dripping from my face. Behind the register was a pimply-faced kid watching some video on his phone. He didn’t even bother to look up at me as I approached him. “I saw on your website that you got a copy of *Desert War*,” I said, panting. “Oh, yeah. Some kid bought it yesterday. It takes a little while for our website to update. Sorry, man.” “Do you know who bought it?” He shook his head. “How about the guy who sold it, what did he look like?” “Uh…it’s hard to say. He was wearing a surgical mask and had on dark sunglasses and a hoodie. Think he was white, and he looked old, like about your age, the little skin I could see was wrinkled. Average height, no accent or anything.” “Did the guy tell you anything about the game?” “Not really. He came in with the cartridge and I told him we only buy big N64 titles, like *Mario Kart*, but he said I could have it for free and just walked out. I tried to search for it in our system, but no info came up, so I just priced it at $2.99 and put it in the bargain bin.” “How about the kid who bought it, do you know who he is?” “I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him before. He’s Asian, like 14 or so. Why are you asking all these questions?” “Because I own a video game store and that cartridge was stolen from—.” “Oh shit. I didn’t know it was stolen, I swear, man. Can you please not file a police report, I’d probably get fired. I’ll pay you out of my own…” \*\*\* I had no choice but to call the cops. That kid’s life was in danger if he ended up playing the game. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t tell the cops everything I knew—they’d think I was crazy—so I just said that I thought some predator had lured Jason Statler 20 years ago, and, after a long hiatus, was trying to lure other kids. I was hoping some detectives would come, but instead a regular patrol officer showed up an hour later. “I’ve received a report that a stolen video game was sold here,” the cop said. “It’s not just that,” I said. “This is related to the Jason Statler—” “Sir, you’re not making any sense. Jason Statler disappeared over twenty years ago. I don’t see what a stolen video game has to do with him.” “I know it sounds crazy, but—” He let out a long sigh. “Sir, I have a friend in the Santa Clara County Sheriff's Office who is working that case. They have received innumerable tips from cranks—” “I’m not a crank! There is imminent danger to the kid who bought this game.” “Oh, just shut up. You’re wasting my time.” He turned to the GameStop employee. “How much did the game sell for, anyways?” “$2.99.” The cop chuckled. “Yeah, this is a complete waste of my time. Think I spent more on gas driving over here.” I called after him as he started walking away, but he paid me no attention. Even if he had, it might have been to late. I searched for any recent articles about missing kids in the Bay Area. On the *East Bay Times* website, there was a headline about a missing kid from Milpitas. A 15-year-old named Adam Kim had been reported missing this morning. The police said they were investigating it as a possible runaway, but I was almost positive that wasn’t the case. I recognized his photograph. He had come into my store dozens of times. Even though he was coming of age in the era of ninth-generation consoles—the PS5 and the Xbox Series X—he loved retro games more than anyone I knew. I showed his photo to the clerk. As I suspected, he was the kid who had bought the copy of Desert War. *Was he still alive, held captive in the skeleton’s lair? Had he been given three lives like me, or did the skeleton only give him one chance?* Thinking about it wouldn’t do any good, I needed to track down the skeleton. I checked my email, praying that there was some lead. James Langan, one of the guys I had messaged from Gooseberry Games, had gotten back to me. He was currently a professor at Berkeley and said he was free to meet with me at 1 this afternoon. \*\*\* Dr. Langan’s office was on the 4th story of Soda Hall. I had heard that it was the only building at Berkeley to include both classrooms and showers, designed that way to accommodate the demanding schedules of its CS students. However, based on the odor in the building, it was clear that the students were not taking advantage of all its facilities. The door to the professor’s office was open. Behind a cluttered desk sat a smiling man with a long white beard. “Ah,” he said when he saw me. “What an honor to finally meet you in person. The guy who gave *Raucous Raccoon Racing* a 1.25/10. Think in your review you wrote that ‘getting rabies would be more fun than playing this game.’” “Uh…” I said. “It was nothing personal. I—” He laughed. “Oh, I’m not mad, don’t worry. I barely even worked on that title. Bet you’re wondering about the lagginess of it. Other N64 racing games, like *Mario Kart 64*, used pre-rendered sprits to simulate a 3D appearance. We wanted to be the first to use actual 3D models. One of the guys on our team thought he had a way to overcome N64’s limited processing power, but, as you know, it wasn’t very successful. I wanted to hold off, push back the release and fix the performance issues, but, as usual, I was outvoted.” “Very interesting,” I said. Normally, I would have loved to talk with him about retrogaming, but now was not the time. “So in your email you said that you know something about *Desert War*.” “I never thought I would hear that name again. But here you are. It’s a long story. I don’t have all the answers, but hopefully, if we put our heads together we can figure it out.” He took out a photo from one of his desk drawers that showed a group of about 30 guys. In the back left row was a man who appeared to be about 40. He looked creepy—I don’t like to judge people on their appearances—but that was the first word that came to mind. He was dressed in a magenta tracksuit and had long platinum-blonde hair, so light that it was nearly white. And, on his head, was the green sorcerer’s hat the skeleton had worn, the hat that was found near the body of Jason Statler. “Who’s that man with the hat?” I asked. He chuckled. “That was Ed Schumacher. He was quite the eccentric, as you can probably tell from his appearance. Not that there aren’t lots of interesting characters in video game studios, but he was in a league of his own. Wore that hat every day. When asked why, he simply answered that he thought it was a ‘happy hat.’ A good a reason as any, don’t you think? “Now, Ed was not a programmer. He was an illustrator, would design advertisements, box art, instruction manuals, etc. Was fairly talented, wouldn’t say he was world-class, but he was a decent artist. “Ed’s dream was to become a developer. Unfortunately, he had no aptitude for the subject. He was, how shall I phrase this, a rather simple-minded individual. He could draw well, but he couldn’t even program a simple 2D game like Pong, which is something I could do in an afternoon. Honestly, I would be surprised if he could have coded, ‘Hello, World!’ And I’m not being hyperbolic. “But Ed never gave up. He had an idea for this grand video game. It would be designed for children, even though Ed had no children of his own, he still loved kids. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but it was not in a perverse way, I’m almost certain of it. He loved dressing up in costume and going to promotional events, handing out free goodies to kids, getting them to smile. I know it sounds creepy, but I do not think there was anything nefarious about his intentions. “His game would be about two children, a brother and a sister, who get lost in a magical world and have to find their way home. Not original, I know, but Ed thought it would be a big hit. He was also working on some children’s book that would be a companion piece to it. “Ed pitched that game over and over, but it would be a mess, a literal mess. Was going to be a mashup of 50 different genres, part shooter, part racing game, part platformer, even part RTS if you can believe it. Of course, that would not be successful, so we had to gently turn Ed down, tell him that now wasn’t a good time, that maybe next year we could take it on. “Ed asked if he could work on the game himself. He wasn’t that busy, and to satisfy him, we said fine, he could spend an hour a day working on his pet project. *Raucous Raccoon* was our last N64 title, so we let him mess around on an old computer that had all the N64 development kits and tools configured on it. “Our next game was the title you’re interested in—*Desert War*. It was planned for the PS2 and would be an FPS. You’d control either an American or British soldier as they fought Rommel’s troops in North Africa. In late 2001, there was a meeting where Ed was showing some sample cover art for the game. Very similar to the photos of the label you sent. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Ed said that he wanted to show a live N64 demo. No one had any clue what he was talking about. But he starts demoing the ‘game’ you described in the email, with that kid wandering around the desert. No skeleton though, that must have been added later. And the kid wasn’t dressed in cargo shorts and a black t-shirt. But overall, it was very similar. You could tell Ed was proud of himself, but most of the office burst out laughing. And poor Ed runs off crying. Quit that very day. Never saw him again. “As for *Desert War*, it got canned. Development was taking longer than expected and we were hitting some major roadblocks. *Medal of Honor: Frontline* was released in May of 2002, and that was far better than what we had created. It was decided to stop throwing good money after bad and shelve the project. I quit that October and returned to academia. People complain about how stressful it is, but compared to working at a game studio it’s like spending a day at the spa. Gooseberry Games folded a few months later.” “So where’s Ed now?” I asked. “Dead. He committed suicide, think it was in early 2002. Apparently videotaped the whole thing.” *Early 2002. Around the time Jason went missing*. “Have you heard about the Jason Statler case?” I asked. The professor nodded. “Yeah, saw on the news that a hat like the one Ed wore was found near his body. I contacted the police and they looked into it. Said that he had died a month or so before Jason disappeared. Just a coincidence.” “Jason’s brother is the one who sold me the cartridge. The day before his body was discovered.” “That is another odd coincidence, but I bet there was some yard sale with all of Ed’s stuff after he died, and Jason bought his hat and the cartridge there.” “You know how many cartridges Ed made?” “Nope, I honestly didn’t even know he made a single one. I’m sure you know this, but during development, you didn’t use actual cartridges. Instead, the build would be burned onto an EPROM chip, which would be loaded into a caddy for testing purposes. So when you told me that there was an actual, consumer-grade cartridge with the name on it, I was shocked.” “You said that Ed couldn’t write a basic program, yet he allegedly created a game—not sure if you could call that a game, but he created something playable. I was never an N64 developer, but I know that doing that is no small feat. Today, a 10-year-old with a modicum of talent could follow a tutorial and create a basic 3D game for the PC in Unity or another engine that abstracts away most of the math, but not in the ‘90s. Even today, it’s hard for an experienced programmer to create a homebrew N64 game— its architecture is notoriously difficult, almost as complex as Sega Saturn’s. So, someone must have been helping him.” “You’re right, and I’ve thought about that too. I teach an elective undergrad class on computer graphics. Some students think that it will be an easy, fun class, but I emphasize that it requires a solid math background. I put on the syllabus that if you start shaking when you hear the word ‘quaternions’ you should find another class. But many don’t listen to me. I’ve even been told that it even requires more math than the undergrad machine learning courses. But I’m digressing, I tend to do that. To answer your question, yes, Ed had help creating that 'game.' Who helped him, I don’t know. He was a loner, don’t think he was ever married, had no friends as far as I could tell.” I thought about the piece of metal I had found with 'F.S.' engraved into it. “Did Ed have a brother by chance whose name started with F?” I asked. “Frank or Fred or something like that. I found an…uh…an Easter egg with the initials F.S. on it.” “He did indeed have a twin brother named Frank. Unlike Ed, Frank was as smart as a whip, did his undergrad at Caltech, double-majored in mathematics and physics, before getting his applied mathematics PhD at Stanford. Then he got a tenure-track position here at Berkeley, but he got fired. From what I heard, he was a disturbed, troubled individual.” “I think we found who helped Ed with the game,” I said. “No, he couldn’t have. Frank killed himself in ’96, jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge.” \*\*\* After leaving the professor’s office, I headed to Berkeley’s Doe Library, determined to find out anything I could about Ed and Frank. I was sure I would find some information about Ed that would show that he was not the harmless eccentric the professor had made him out to be. But there wasn’t much about him online. I located a Social Security Death Index record for an Edwin Fox Schumacher, which listed his date of death as March 6, 2002, but not much else. Didn’t even find an obituary or the location of his grave. I searched newspaper archives, but the only article on Ed was a brief mention in the *Mercury News* that in May of 2002, the San José Museum of Art had acquired “an unpublished 700-page children’s book manuscript by the late Ed Schumacher, a reclusive illustrator, for $500.” The museum’s collection database showed that the work was not on display, but had an image of a childlike watercolor depicting two smiling children on a swing set. There were no other results for him; he wasn’t even listed in the credits of any Gooseberry games. The professor said that he filmed his death, and I thought that footage would be circulating online, but found nothing. I didn’t really want to see it—I was never into gruesome, macabre stuff like that—but it could offer a clue. I tried dozens of queries, tried spelling his last name as Shoemaker, tried general queries like ’2002 Bay Area suicide video,’ but found nothing. Finally, when I searched for “sorcerer’s hat suicide video”, I found a link to a message board. “Does anyone have a copy of the video of the guy in a sorcerer’s hat (sort of like the one Mickey wore in *Fantasia*) dissolving himself in a vat of acid???” someone asked in a post from September of 2002. *A vat of acid? What could possess someone to kill himself in such a horrific manner?* I skimmed the post. Apparently, the only copy of the film, titled *The Death of Ed the Sorcerer*, was owned by an adult video store in East Oakland. I was sure it would have made its way online, but everything I found said that if you wanted to watch the video you had to go to Oakland. Apparently, it wasn’t even on the dark web. How that was possible, I didn’t know, but I’d worry about that later. Next, I started researching Frank. There were more results for him. As the professor said, he seemed like a brilliant man. The first result was from the 1980 Jefferson High School Yearbook in Daly City. His senior page—depicting him with close-cropped hair—said that he had qualified for the United States of America Mathematical Olympiad and had hoped to attend either Caltech, Stanford, or MIT. Curiously, Ed was not in the yearbook. *Guess he attended some alternative school*. In the following years, he had won several awards and published dozens of highly cited papers. But nearly all of his output stopped when he accepted a position at Berkeley in 1994. There was an article from 1996 in the *Daily Cal*, Berkeley’s student newspaper. It said that “Franklin Lawrence Schumacher, an assistant professor of mathematics, was arrested for attempting to steal a 13th-century German grimoire from Bancroft Library.” Two weeks later, another article reported that his wallet and bike were found on the Golden Gate Bridge at night. I searched some more, but there was no mention of his body ever being recovered. *He had faked his death*. That I was sure of. He had killed Jason Statler, disappeared for over 20 years, but, for some unknown reason, had returned. And I was running out of time to find him. I tried to find information on their parents or other relatives, but found nothing. It was as if they were foundlings. I also failed to find Frank’s old address online, but failed. I didn’t think he’d still be living there, of course, but thought he might have left a clue for me there, like how he left that piece of metal with his initials on my kitchen floor. I went down to the stacks and found an old Bay Area directory and made a note of Frank’s former Berkeley address. I also found the address of Ed’s old apartment in Daly City. \*\*\* After leaving the library, I drove to Frank’s old Berkeley address. There was a vacant lot where his house once stood. I poked around for a few minutes, but found nothing of interest. Next, I headed to the video store, creatively named VideoXXX, in East Oakland. It was sandwiched between an auto body shop and an abandoned warehouse. Some people are scared to go to Oakland—they think the whole city is a pit—but it has several upscale neighborhoods where the median rent for a one-bedroom apartment is nearly $3,000. This was not one of those neighborhoods. Gentrification had not, and I doubted ever would, come to this part of town. The clerk, a thirty-something guy dressed in a stained black t-shirt that covered only half of his enormous gut, glared at me as I entered. “You a cop or something?” he asked. “No, I’m—” “You look like a cop. Go ahead, arrest me, I’ll sue you. Nothing I have in here is illegal. I have—” “I’m not a cop,” I said. “I hear you have the video of Ed Schumacher’s death.” “Ed the Sorcerer?” I nodded. “Yeah, we got that. It’ll be 50 bucks.” “I don’t want to buy a copy, just—” “Yeah, you can’t buy it, there’s only one copy. You have to view it here. If we let people take it home, it would be all over the dark web. Also, put your phone in your car. Can’t risk people recording.” “Fine,” I said. I went back to my car and locked it in the trunk of my sedan. When I returned, the clerk collected the $50, checked me with a metal-detecting wand, and led me into a back room. There were two rows of seating and a film projector on a tripod in the rear of the room. From a locked safe, the clerk took out a film reel. “Shot on Super 8,” the clerk said. “It helps with its aesthetic. Grungy as fuck. I’d say that this is one of the few films we have that has actual artistic merit. I know film, have a BFA from USC’s School of Cinematic Arts.” I didn’t ask why someone who had graduated from one of the best film schools was working at an adult video store. As he started the projector, I sat down in the back row. As Khachaturian’s *Masquerade: Waltz* played, various title cards flashed across the screen. Actual physical cards, like you’d see in a silent film. “The Death of Ed the Sorcerer.” “Starring Ed the Sorcerer as Himself.” “Directed by Ed the Sorcerer.” “Screen Play by Ed the Sorcerer.” “Produced by Ed the Sorcerer.” And so on. Think there were probably about 50 cards in total. At the bottom of each, in white, was a illustration of a skeleton wearing a sorcerer’s hat. As each new card was displayed, he slowly danced his way across the screen. After the cards, the film showed the interior of a small bedroom. There was a large steel vat in front of an unmade bed. Next to it was a ladder. And, on one of the walls, there was the poster that José had described seeing back in 2002. The one advertising the *Desert War* sweepstakes. On the bottom of it, was a URL—rehcamuhcsde.com Took me a few seconds to realize that it was Ed Schumacher spelled backwards. After about a minute, Ed finally walked on screen, naked except for his sorcerer’s hat and a pair of rose-colored glasses. He was trembling and looked sickly—his face was sallow, his ribs were all showing. *Was he terminally ill? Was that why he decided to end his life? But why would he do it in such a painful manner?* “Hello,” Ed said, his voice shaky. “My name is Ed the Sorcerer. And today, it is necessary that I die.”He seemed to look at the camera for several seconds, before slowly climbing into the vat. Then there was a cut and we were looking down at Ed’s body immersed in liquid. *There had been a cut! The camera had moved.* Someone else was in the room with him. Almost certainly Frank. Frank wanted his brother to kill himself. But why? We did not get to hear Ed’s screams, instead Vivaldi’s *La primavera* played. I had previously thought that Ed might have faked his death, but if he were acting, he deserved to win an Oscar. There was pure terror on his face, it was the personification of agony. It seemed to take hours before his silent screams ceased. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t, for I thought that Frank might have dropped another clue. As Ed’s body floated in the vat, his pasty skin slowly dissolved, revealing his muscles and tendons. Then the acid began to eat them as well. There was another cut. The vat had been drained. On top of a layer of sludge were Ed’s bones and the sorcerer’s hat. “That’s the end of the good part,” the clerk said. “The rest is five more minutes of looking at his bones. You can stay if you want to, but it’s pretty boring.” “You went to film school,” I said. “Was this faked?” “Nah, this is real. The second sequence, of him dissolving in the acid, that was sped up, you can see on the reel where the film was cut and spliced, but it’s not a fake.” “Where did you get it from?” He laughed. “How the fuck would I know? This place has changed owners like 5 times. Probably someone came in and sold it. We got lots of amateur stuff, although this one is a gem. I’ve thought about editing it and submitting it to film festivals.” “On screen, the skeleton suddenly stood up and leaped towards the camera. *It looked like it was a fake after—* The skeleton shot out of the screen. At first, it looked translucent, but as it neared me it began to solidify. The clerk let out a high-pitched scream, and with a surprising speed, dashed out of the room. I got up to follow him, but the skeleton was moving too fast. It wrapped its ice-cold hands around my neck and started strangling me. I tried to break its grip, but it was too strong. I staggered backwards, struggling to breathe. I fell to the ground, feeling light-headed, each of my attempts to free myself getting weaker and weaker. In a last-ditch effort, I kicked my left foot towards the legs of the tripod, about two feet away from me. It toppled over, the projector cracking as it hit the linoleum floor. The screen went blank, and the skeleton slowly dissolved into the air. I struggled to my feet, gasping for breath. *Had I finally defeated the skeleton?* I didn’t think so. [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16tp5es/if_you_find_an_old_n64_game_called_desert_war_do/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pn7qo/if_you_find_an_old_n64_game_called_desert_war_do/

nosleep

VisualSun9225

I'm starting to regret killing my girlfriend.

Three weeks ago I killed my girlfriend, Melanie Palmer, chopped her body into eleven pieces and buried them in scattered, discrete locations around my state. This isn’t a confession. Well, I guess it is, but that’s not the driving force behind this admission. I don’t expect any empathy, any guidance. I don’t even expect anyone to take this seriously. Me? All the prerequisites have been said, though I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give you a rundown. I’m not what you’d call striking - though I’ve always made it a point to blend and flow with society. To delicately veneer my true nature with a cordial persona, however contrived. Maybe we’ve met. Probably not. If we have, good luck pegging a name on me. Or, for that matter, finding me at all. Melanie wasn’t my first victim, it’s just that all the others were animals from all different clades. Fish, birds, mammals, reptiles… it’s fascinating how each organism reacts in their own way. You see, our brains contain ‘mirror neurons’. They’re responsible for that pity you feel when a wounded dog comes whimpering by your heel, and for the lack of it when a creature expresses pain in a manner you’re unused to. Honestly, it’s fucking shallow. But it’s the human condition. Except, *I’m* human, and I’d like to say I’m past all that sickly sweet bullshit. Let’s be honest, feelings are a hindrance more often than not. So, the trustworthy thing to do is observe. I mentioned dogs already. They always end up being a right mess. Screaming, writhing, contorting their limbs as if the thumbtacks in their eyes are gonna kill them. The idea of having kids has always been off putting, to me - dealing with an indignant mutt is just as tedious. Chickens fuss a bit, then sort of freeze up once they realise flight isn’t an option - pun intended. The first few times it’s funny, but it gets old. I could go on. If it makes you feel better, call me a coward. Take all the jabs you want. The fact I haven’t killed *people* \- well, until now - just offers a cheap avenue for insult, even when the rational part of your brain is relieved I stuck to animals. There’s no tangible strings of influence I have over anything anymore, so if nothing else, be sincere. Mourn the dead. And for your information, I say this not out of empathy. Nothing bores me more than loafing around. Don’t stew in resentment. Get on with your damn lives. Okay. Now all that’s clear, I can get into why I’m even writing this. Five days went by without a hitch. And that’s when I started seeing it. Nothing intrusive at first. I’d spy a figure in the distance, swaying gently as reeds shimmering in the wind. The first time it was nothing but a fleeting curiosity. The second time it lodged inside my brain like thorns in a boot sole. An old man told me once, “a house can be haunted, but so can we.” I know he was referring to memories. Trauma, regret. But I don’t carry those burdens. Maybe the universe sought to level the playing field, I don’t know. I see that figure everywhere now. Half-obscured at the end of a grocery store aisle. Standing on an overpass while I’m driving along the highway. Sometimes in places that make no sense, physically speaking - like behind the stove extractor fan, small as if distant, yet contained in such a tiny space. By itself, not so scary. Of course, I wouldn’t be here if things didn’t worsen. When I stare at that thing, my head starts to pound. A static thrumming in my ears. Feels like everything else starts to crumble away, except the figure. It only grows clearer the longer I gaze into its rippling silhouette. Let me tell you: nothing scares me. Not really. As long as I still have my agency. But whenever I notice it, swaying against the ashen sky, it’s as if something outside of myself is sticking toothpicks between my eyelids. Leather straps around my limbs, holding me in place only to stare at the loose segments, rippling with the haze of a mirage and the swaying of kelp. The more I watch, and the less my thoughts wander, it approaches. I never see it moving, but it gets closer. Sharper. A few days ago it got close enough for me to truly make out its body. I was correct about it being in segments, but only now could I *count* them. Eleven. Eleven ragged pieces strung by glistening sinew and entrails. It’d be easy to say she’s come back for me. From the grave, all that. Yet somehow I can tell that’s only a half truth. Because when Melanie was close enough to fix me with her murky eyes, I noticed the thing behind her. Taught grey skin mottled by mangy tufts of hair. Those are the only consistently visible features. I can’t help but feel she’s picked up an errant companion somewhere between death and… well, whatever’s after, if anything. Or maybe *it* found *her*. Either way, it’s here now and I’m powerless to fight back. It can’t be some form of post-mortem vengeance. Otherwise, why would it drive its blackened and chipped nails up into Melanie’s exposed organs, twisting gargled screams out of her like some macabre conductor? Why would it coil and squeeze its phlegmy, splitting tongues through her nose and ears and mouth? All the while it fixes me with a glare through the gap of her neck, flat shark-like eyes somehow conveying a perversion so far past my own it sickens me. I really don’t know what it wants. For me to feel like all those little animals did? Possibly. Although that feels a bit facile when I see the look in its eyes. I realised it wasn’t Melanie herself wavering in the air after I saw the thing’s torn and ancient rags drifting lazily around her sides, as though underwater. From there, the world faded. Slowly, things just… vanished. Number 17 across the street was replaced by monotone ground. A lumpy rock plane. And so it went for everything else. The looming forest hills to the east, gone. The main road leading out of town, gone. The entire industrial estate a couple of streets over- you get the picture. Just barren stone in place of what once was. The fear stagnated at first, then bubbled up with a needling ferocity. It started to become too much. My van was gone and I dared not leave the confines of my home, though at this point it was more of a prison than any sort of comfortable retreat. I caught a few mice in the pantry and made some crosses out of popsicle sticks. Crucified them. Got bored waiting for them to croak, so I ended up dunking them in a pot of boiling water till they stopped moving. In the past, something like that would’ve evened me out. But now, those lifeless eyes bore into the back of my neck whenever I look away. The feeling is inescapable. The sound of its wet, guttural rumbling, insufferable. I wish it’d just get it over with. Tear my eyes out, hang me from my own intestines, I don’t care. Everything else is gone now, other than my house. The windows offer a view out across an interminable plane. The sky’s filled with dull clouds so that the horizon is practically invisible, blending seamlessly with stone. Shit. I just looked up from my laptop and even the house is gone. All at the mercy of this fucking thing that won’t even show itself to me. Hiding behind my greatest sin, clacking teeth and all. Bony mantis limbs unfolding. Eyes reflecting the deepest, coldest ocean. The depth of their cruelty immeasurable. It’s standing right in front of me, still holding up the mangled body shield of Melanie, still flaying her skin and unsheathing her bones. I’d actually respect this monster’s depravity if I weren’t its prisoner. As I record this I can see its drumming fingers in the corner of my eye. Is it impatient? Why’s it even letting me type? I think it wants me to cast out my message-in-a-bottle, so it can be lost to the waves. It knows no one will ever read it. Though if anyone does, I doubt they’d spare any empathy to seek me out. To that I say: fair enough. I’m a lot of things but a hypocrite I am not. Haven’t felt hungry in a while. Or thirsty. I don’t even feel tired and I’ve been awake for, what, a week? Two? I’ve resigned to this fate, so I tried smashing my head into the ground, over and over, desperate to end this nightmare. All it’s done is give me a splitting headache. Not a drop of blood. It’s laughing now. That’s all I can equate its hacking rasps to. I can smell its breath polluting the air. Old blood and scorched bone with the heat to match. Melanie’s screaming too, with whatever’s left of her vocal cords. The disgusting symphony rattles inside my skull. It’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard. I just looked up again and it’s gone. Melanie’s still there, weightless, though her eyes are that of the monster’s. Sunless discs exuding venom-slicked malice so heavy it’s palpable. I lost my router connection a while back but had enough sense to take the SIM out of my phone and put it in the laptop. Mobile data still works, though I don’t understand the logic dictating that. Fuck, I hope this isn’t eternity. My mind’s already broken once but something fixed it up good as new, just to be crushed by the torment once more. The screeching, it’s so loud. Maniacal cackles, tortured wailing. They already sound the same to me. It’s not fair. What other psychotic piece of shit like me has been sentenced to something like this? People whose boundless savagery makes *me* look like a law-abiding citizen, where all they got were life or death sentences? It isn’t fair. My body’s frozen stiff. From terror or some unseen force, it’s impossible to tell. I can feel the moist waves of its stinking breath on my neck. Stop it. Please. It isn’t fair. *Is that what she thinks?* I can’t- what? I didn’t write that. I want to click post right now, it’s just… it’s just fucking ironic. In these last moments I’ll ever have a connection to anyone, anywhere else, the words are lost on me. *Say, Melanie, what* ***do*** *you think?* The way its fingers unfold in my peripheral, like a massive spider uncurling its legs, my spine’s itching. *She thinks you’ve said enough. My thoughts exactly.* Why? Why are you tainting my last words? It’s not fair. This isn’t fair. *Oh, but it is. Now you can be with her, never again lonely.* Fingers. Fingers creeping across my eyes. Peeling dry skin, it crackles and crunches by my ear, one extending with so many joints. So many. So loud. Like gunfire. Ears hurt. *Look. She’s waiting for you.* Melanie hangs festering before me. Her legs sway limply, toes grazing smooth stone. I never thought a sight could make a person so nauseous. *Go, fall into her arms. And drown with her. Drown in the sweet song of your sin for all time.* Arms, her arms. In pieces. Broken. Violated. I only meant to… *Come now.* Well. What else is there to do? I have to go now. She’s waiting, in some form or another. To my friends and- no. It doesn’t even matter. Each and every one of us will be forgotten, given time. God knows, I’ve been given more than enough of that. ___ [RPH](https://www.reddit.com/r/rephlect/comments/12prnjx/welcome_to_my_sub_stay_awhile/) [YT](https://www.youtube.com/@AshBreather) [TW](https://twitter.com/a_k_kullerden)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16p8far/im_starting_to_regret_killing_my_girlfriend/

nosleep

rephlexi0n

I met a cute girl on Tinder but some of her requests are making me uncomfortable

I’m never quite sure if I was just stupid when I missed the signs or if I’m just a normal person. Sara was very sweet and on the surface she ticked all the boxes, even if she was a bit awkward. But so what? People are awkward. I try to look past the little things. I mean we can all be a bit weird can’t we? Especially when we get nervous. But Sara was odd in a way that, in hindsight, maybe I should have taken more seriously. On their own, all the little signs seemed quite innocuous. At the start, she was very hands on during dates, pinching and grabbing and winking. She’d make these hilarious innuendos and constantly toed the line of what was and wasn’t appropriate. I like a woman with a dark sense of humour, and she had that in spades. But she pulled away if I ever tried to reciprocate, and I realised early on that sex wouldn’t be on the cards for a long time. And I was fine with that. I wasn’t in a hurry. And yet she continued to send mixed signals. She’d ask for photos almost every night. Girls don’t normally ask for full-length nudes. It was weird, and taking a good picture wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be. I always thought I looked weird in that kind of full body vertical picture, but she was always happy with what I sent. She had a lot of requests. One was to see me lying on the floor, eyes closed, arms to either side, on my back. She liked that one a lot. One time she made me do a striptease with a white sheet, slowly pulling it down in one picture after the other. This went on for the first month, I’d say. I sent her pictures. She sent me some. We talked a lot about what we each wanted. It was kinda fun and kinky, like we were taking turns being each other’s long distance model. And as a guy I don’t usually get to enjoy the feeling of being a sex object. I normally feel like my sexiness is tied to some kind of performance. It was novel and exciting to be valued as just a physical being. I never really figured I had an exhibitionist streak, or that that was something women wanted much of. But she did, and I didn’t dislike it. During all this we continued to meet up once or twice a week for food. It seemed like we had little thing going that might one day become something real. We never did spend the night together. First time I thought it was going to happen was after I sent a photo of me lying on my kitchen floor, the white tiles freezing my ass the whole time. An hour after I sent the photo she appeared on my doorstep without warning, hair soaking wet, and smelling of booze. As soon as she saw me, she grabbed me, guided me to the sofa, then climbed on top and started kissing me, hard. She was handsy, but it never went past over-the-clothes stuff. Just hot, heavy, and… well, not all that good. Do you ever wonder if some people are bad at sex-stuff because no one tells them the truth? It was like she was trying to suck the air out of my lungs. I’ve had better kisses off my dog. She got a lot of points for enthusiasm, don’t get me wrong. I’ve never had anyone grope me and touch me with so much raw passion. But whenever I tried to match her energy, I got the sense she didn’t really care for it. She never reacted or moaned or gave off non-verbal cues to be like “do that more”. It was all about her touching me, never vice versa. After maybe twenty minutes of this over-the-clothes fumbling, she asked me to lie down on the floor. I had no idea where this was going so I did. “Can you hold your breath?” she asked as she looked down at me. All of a sudden I felt very small and there were lots of thoughts going through my head. I’m pretty sure there was nothing I wouldn’t have done for her in that moment, although not necessarily because I wanted to. There was just an intensity to her stare that shrunk me down until I was the size of an ant. So I held my breath. I held it so long my lungs burned and my head swam until I couldn’t do it any longer. When I opened my eyes, she was looking down at me with so much hunger in her eyes I actually got a little scared. Admittedly, I sorta liked it. She paused for a moment, drinking me in, and then said she had better get going. She had work in the morning. We kissed at the door and her hands roamed all over my back. I was cold by that point and her hands felt so warm… I swore something was about to happen, but she simply left me standing there. It was confusing and frustrating. So much so, I almost didn’t call her back. But she had a kind of commanding energy about her—a deep awareness of what she did and didn’t want—that it was just enough to keep me replying to her texts. After that night I always laid on my kitchen floor when she asked for a photo, but it never really had the same effect of getting her to my doorstep. Still, she became a regular fixture in my life and pretty soon I hoped we might get close to something a bit more serious. I looked for signs that she thought the same thing but the going was damn slow. By the time winter rolled around we’d been on-and-off for six months, and just about the only thing that actually changed was the way she kept holding my hand. She’d take my cold hands between her own and hold them against her cheek, her neck, maybe even her chest. At times it was quite nice. It took a while, but I managed to swing her around into another home visit. You can guess what I was hoping for. But she actually made us spend most of our time out on the balcony watching the stars, cuddled together in the freezing cold. She made me give her my jacket as well, even when I offered to get one from inside. It had to be the one I was wearing, and she wouldn’t let me replace it. By the time we went back in I felt like I was close to getting pneumonia, and the shock of the warm air left me feeling dizzy. “Lie down!” she begged me. “Lie down on the floor! I have an idea!” I was shaking by this point, the tips of my fingers ice blue. When she came back over she had a glass of red wine. She stood over me, warming the glass in her hands, before giving me clear instructions. “Sip some,” she said. “And keep it in your mouth. Close your eyes. Don’t open them! And don’t swallow the wine!” I don’t even like wine. And I was pretty irritated by the whole thing. But there was a tension in the air, something about her electric anticipation that infected me. I didn’t know what was happening, and in the past when I felt that way it sometimes led to me having new and exciting experiences. Out of nowhere she kissed me, pushing her tongue into the lukewarm wine until it dribbled messily out of the corner of my lips. At the same time, and in one swift motion, she pressed the heel of her hand into my diaphragm and pushed so hard that the wine gushed out of my mouth and into hers. I started coughing, she did too. My immediate reaction was that kind of irritation you can’t hide. It actually pissed me off. It was surprising in all the wrong ways, and given what I’d maybe *hoped* was coming, it just meant all that disappointment turned into outright frustration. All I’d wanted was a normal kiss. Some sign of basic, normal affection. Did she even realise how shit I felt after freezing my ass off on the balcony so she could feel like I was some gentleman giving her my jacket? I pushed her off me gently but firmly. “Let’s not do that again,” I said, choking the words out. “What were you trying to do?” “Nothing!” she cried. “It was nothing. Just something different.” She seemed sincerely regretful and sorry, but I was half-naked, horny, irritated, and freezing cold. I didn’t ask her to leave, but she clearly sensed the change in atmosphere and made some excuse. I wiped myself down while she went to the toilet, and when she emerged, I greeted her with her handbag and keys. I didn’t even walk her to the door. Instead, as she looked at me with a sort of sad pout from the door, I simply ignored her and began to mop the kitchen floor. “Looks like a damn murder scene,” I grumbled. She may have said something before she left, but I didn’t look up until I heard the door close. After that we didn’t speak for a while. Now, this is a very typical thing for me to do, but over the next few days I did a little retrospective on our dates and realised I’d been the one putting in all the work. It was always me escalating, asking for dates, phone calls, trying to move things between us forward. I figured if there was any chance of a real relationship, then she’d have to just come back and apologise and explain her behaviour and be the one to reach out for once. Of course, at the exact same time, I couldn’t get her out of my head. *Maybe she’d just been clumsy?* I thought. *Maybe she was nervous?* I couldn’t get my head around the wine thing. It seemed so random. I’m more than familiar with the usual BDSM stuff people like. If I could have pinned her actions down to some specific kink or fetish, I could have more confidently figured if we were compatible or not. But without more information I was just well and truly confused. I wanted to like her. But if there was no chance of us working out, if we were just incompatible, then I wanted closure. As it was, I didn’t have a clue what we were or what the hell we’d been doing. Either way, when she finally text asking if I’d like to pick her up after work, I agreed. I wanted closure and, maybe I imagined it but something about her tone seemed a little contrite. That feeling was reinforced when I met her in the parking lot of the hospital where she worked and I found her sitting on the hood of her car in a breath-taking red dress. As soon as I was out of the car she took my hand and told me she’d set up a little date for us, something special, and that she’d finally make it all up to me. The way she kissed me, the way she guided my hand along her waist, there was something so utterly different about it, so committed, that I immediately knew she wanted to go the whole way. I could just tell she’d finally made a decision, a threshold had been crossed, and I wanted to go see where this would lead. She didn’t work in the hospital itself, but rather took me off to a small building on the same grounds. It was a quiet little red-brick thing, just two floors from the outside, and I wondered what it was, exactly, that she did. Inside there was a chemical smell that was pretty overwhelming, but at first glance it seemed like a simple GP office. There was a little reception area with one or two chairs. A small counter top with some computers and a bunch of back offices. This was after hours so no one else was there. Only a few dim lights in the reception area. Everywhere else was dark. She quickly disappeared upstairs telling me she was going to slip into something more comfortable, and I settled down for a short wait. At least she locked the door behind us so no one else could come. I took that as a good sign, but I still felt pretty uncertain. Where were we? And why the hell did she pick this place for a date? I tried to sit down but it felt too strange, like waiting for the dentist. So I stood and shuffled around a bit instead, listening to the muffled thumps of whatever the hell she was doing upstairs. Outside it was starting to get dark. Fewer and fewer cars were going past, and it was raining heavily, all of which made that little room feel even like a lonely little corner of the world. Well hidden and out of the way, even though the hospital was clearly visible with heavy traffic not far behind it. There wasn’t much else to do except snoop, and I quickly noticed a door had been left slightly ajar, like someone had forgotten to shut it. It was the only door I could reach without climbing over something, so my curiosity got the better of me. I approached it and got maybe two feet away before I realised it was the source of that damn chemical smell. Once I realised that I *had* to take a look inside just so I could know for sure what the hell it was. I tried pushing it open an inch or two and peeking inside but it was pitch black in there. So I pushed it open a little further and using my phone light I saw that there was a set of stairs going down into a basement. More thumps from upstairs told me that she wasn’t going to come down any time soon. I had time to check, so I went down a step and tried seeing if that helped, but there was nothing. So I went down another, and then another, until suddenly a set of automatic lights came on with a loud *thunk* and the rising whine of fluorescence coming to life. I’m not sure what I expected, but what I saw… at first it left me dumbstruck but then, I don’t know… It was a sterile room with white speckled tiles. A few countertops running along the walls covered in silver instruments I didn’t recognise. One wall covered in a regular grid of metal cupboard doors. And three steel slabs in the centre of the room. One of them was occupied. A vaguely human shape covered by a white shroud, the lone foot of a man sticking out the bottom. Something about the strange colouring and texture of the skin immediately let me know he wasn’t having a nap. That and the toe tag was a pretty obvious clue. It was a morgue. She worked in the morgue and it was *here* of all places she’d decided to set our final date? My initial reaction was to want to go upstairs and confront her, get angry, let it out, and just leave after making her unlock the door. But something stopped me. I can’t say for sure what. As quickly as it came the anger left me and I was left with a kind of horrified curiosity, an idea I couldn’t even put to words in the privacy of my own head. Instead of turning around and leaving, I waited a few seconds to make sure she wasn’t coming down right behind me, and I began to descend the rest of the way. The walk to the body felt like a ten-mile hike. Every step was too loud. Every breath, a nervous shivering exhalation that felt like it might burst into a gasp at any moment. I was terrified. I couldn’t help but imagine that faceless shape turning to look at me, or sitting upright in one smooth motion. I quickly realised why ghosts are stereotypically portrayed as walking sheets. Someone must have had the same thought I had. The imagined scene of a shroud covered body moving swiftly towards you in the dark. Hell of a time for my brain to play those kinds of games with me, but that curiosity drove me on… I couldn’t walk away… Not now. Before I knew it I was stood by the body, and with a shaking hand I pulled back the sheet. He looked like me. Vaguely. I think we would have probably been a close match before the bloating. Same hair colour. Same face shape. Same ethnicity, age, so on. For a moment I considered the idea that maybe Sara was just a very weird woman. People get desensitised to this kind of stuff all the time, and to her the building we were in might just be a nice empty place to bring a date. But that body on that slab… I don’t know how to describe it but it set something off in me. A kind of slow, rising dread. I’m not sure why I did what I did next, but I couldn’t stop thinking of that strange night where she pushed against my chest and sent wine dribbling out my mouth. So utterly bizarre but… maybe? I placed my hand against the man’s cold flesh, heel to the diaphragm, and applied pressure. He animated like a puppet. A brief gasp of air followed by curdled blood flowing out of his mouth, black and yellow and red, platelets and plasma separated with time into a thick soup. When the smell hit me I couldn’t help but be sick, and as I hunched over the nearby drain and emptied my body of all the vomit and bile, images of my time with Sara flashed through my mind. The photos of me nude lying on a white tile floor. The use of the blanket to cover my chest. Her fixation on my cold hands. A night spent freezing on the balcony. Filling my mouth with wine and forcing it back out with a shove to the chest. I looked at the body and quickly understood how and why she’d discovered what happens when you apply pressure to the chest. The image was crystal clear in my mind. The mental image of her slender frame straddling the bloated man before me was as unpleasant and inescapable as nails on a chalkboard. Unable to shake it, I hunched over once more and was sick again, this time until my eyes watered and there was nothing left but saliva and bile. I felt *violated*. I wanted to leave. I no longer felt angry or confused. Instead every moment of the last six months fell into place and a pattern emerged that terrified me. She wasn’t meandering or clueless. Everything she’d done had been moving towards this one night with me here, locked in this place with no one to call for help. I’d blundered into what might just be the most dangerous situation of my life, and now I was too deep into the trap to just blindly panic, underground and in a room with only one exit! I had to be careful. She was up there, somewhere. Maybe clueless about what I’d realised. Maybe not. She seemed small enough, but a cursory glance at some of the glinting blades on the nearby work surface told me she didn’t have to be a bodybuilder to hurt me. Any one of those razor sharp instruments could work its way into the meat of my neck with very little effort. Sooner or later she’d realise where I was. Sooner or later this plan of hers had to have an endgame. I looked up at the stairs. If she came down from the top floor she’d see the lights from this room and it would be obvious to anyone where I’d gone. I was torn. Do I go up and pretend I saw nothing? I thought about having to go up there and lie my way through some awkward encounter. *Oh I’m feeling a little unwell I have to skip.* Polite smile. Nod. Could I stomach even that brief exchange? And that’s if she bought it, and it required that the next step of her plan involved me conscious or alive. I thought of her attacking me out of nowhere with a scalpel, silently dragging it across my throat, letting that surgical blade bite into cartilage. She was small but so what? I had no idea what she was planning or where she was lurking. Walking into an ambush and toughing it out didn’t seem like the best of plans. What I wanted was distance. I just needed a door or a window. *I just had to avoid her!* My first instinct had been to get out of the basement and I wanted to go with it, but the strange sounds coming from upstairs made me think she might have finally come to find reception empty. Terrified, I looked around desperate for some way out, or maybe even a good hiding spot. Just about every bad idea you can think of went through my mind, including swapping myself out for the corpse. I nearly laughed at the stupidity of it, but my attention had been pulled to the morgue drawers and with a sinking feeling in my gut I slowly realised there was nowhere else in that room large enough to hide a person. “Michael?” The voice was muffled and distant, but I could tell she was finally looking for me. This really was fast becoming a now or never moment. With a deep breath, I pulled at the first drawer I saw and felt bittersweet relief that it was empty. I wasn’t sure I could go through with this, but at least it hadn’t been already occupied. With a rising gorge I climbed inside feet first, slid myself back into the darkness trying my best not to think of a pair of cold hands snatching my ankles, and then quietly pulled the door shut. I’d barely heard the click when there came the sound of footsteps down the stairs. They stopped half-way and I clearly heard her hiss “*Shit!*” under her breath before turning back around and returning upstairs. She must’ve figured I’d seen the bodies and run off somewhere else. Wherever that might take her, it had at least bought me time. I opened the door using an internal latch while pushing aside morbid questions of why that feature was even necessary, and stepped out as quietly as I could onto the tile steps. After that I slowly scaled the stairs as silently as I could manage and made my way to the door at the top of the basement. She had thankfully left it ajar once again (bit of a habit of hers I assumed) and peeked through into the darkness beyond. In the time I’d been in the basement the sun had fully set and now there was only the lights of passing cars to illuminate reception. Bright amber lights with hard edges swept across the room, one after the other, with strange irregularity. They made for an unpredictable insight into the room’s contents. A chair. A computer. A counter top. I had to squint and wait patiently for a few of them to go by before I realised one of the back office’s doors were open and there was the sound of frustrated footsteps coming from within. She was distracted, and this was my best chance of getting out. I tiptoed out of the basement and listened carefully. She occasionally hissed an angry refrain to herself, opening what sounded like cabinet doors. “Why are you doing this Michael?” she whined, and I was surprised that she sounded not malevolent, but sad and pitiful, like an upset teenager. She was genuinely confused by my reaction… For a brief moment I dared to wonder if my imagination had gotten the better of me. Right there on the counter was a bottle of wine and two glasses. Maybe she really was just intending for a normal date and I’d made connections that were never really there, but in my mind I saw that corpse bloated and bloody once again and ultimately decided I was better safe than sorry. A quick check of the front door showed it was still locked, and so with nowhere else to go, I went up another floor, careful to stop every step or two and listen for signs she had changed course. Thankfully I was at the top step by the time I heard her leave that office and enter another. “Come onnnnn!” she cried. “Why are you being like this!?” I wasn’t sure what my game plan was. I figured my best chance was a window, and was all ready to start tearing the top floor apart when I was stopped dead in my tracks by what I saw. There were a few rooms on the top floor but only one of them had an open door and the lights turned on. What I saw inside hit me so hard I stopped dead in my tracks and let out a gasp. It was covered in plastic wrap. Top to bottom. Floors, walls, and ceilings. A small white table had been set up in one corner and on it lay three open pill bottles, a hacksaw, and several scalpels. Seeing all that stuff, getting such an upfront insight into what she had planned, it all made my fucking skin crawl. That and a bottle of lotion made me want to be sick. Suppressing the urge to gag, I decided none of that really mattered because, and this wasn’t a great surprise, she had picked a room with a large and easy-to-open window. I pushed aside the plastic sheeting and opened it to find the drop below wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the thought of spending another second in that fucking room. I began to climb out, got one leg through, carefully balancing so that if I fell I’d minimise injury, when I heard a sound by the door. The crinkling of plastic. The gentle glide of a door. I turned and saw her standing in the dark hallway beyond. It was hard to see but she wasn’t grinning like a maniac, or waiting with a knife. More than anything just looked disappointed, maybe even frustrated. In hindsight, it made sense. She’d spent a long time setting this up. Not just the room with the plastic sheeting, but the entire relationship had been built carefully around that night. I expected her to crack, break, come at me screaming and slashing with some hidden blade. But she only shook her head and quietly mewed, “It’s not my fault.” I considered a reply but found none to be fitting. I jumped and landed safely below with a bit of a knee-shaking thump. Nowhere near as bad as the shin-splintering worst-case scenario I’d kept imagining. Then, with a deep breath, relishing the smell of fresh air, I ran as quickly as I could towards the hospital and the lot where my car waited. \- You know, you might not be too surprised to learn this, but there wasn’t actually much I could prove when it all was over. By the time the police visited the morgue it was, apparently, back to normal. Her side of the story was that I’d insisted on visiting the morgue out of morbid curiosity and got upset when she didn’t want to stick around. It was kind of hard to prove anything else. I had no injuries, no evidence of intent or anything else other than a suspicion of some pretty fucked up behaviour. At the end, the best the police were willing to do was hook me up with a lawyer who dealt with restraining orders and he told me I’d need some evidence of actual harassment. Well that and the main gist of his advice was actually for *me* to stay away from *her* because, if anything, it’d be hell of a lot easier for her to convince people I was the problem and not the other way around. I didn’t have much choice in the end except to move on. And all told I was just happy to have made it out alive, even if the thought of her out there made me deeply anxious. I had to assume she’d go looking for another target since I’d wised up, although I hoped that maybe the close encounter with me would stop her from trying again. As for me, I deleted my Tinder profile having decided that internet dating will never be a thing for me again. But the nightmares persist, and I often think of her standing there in the doorway. She didn’t look half as upset as I might’ve thought. The whole thing was like I’d been a bit naughty. There she was, an aspiring murderer moments away from executing a plan that had been months in the making, and she’d stood there like it was all nothing but a minor setback. It just didn’t make sense, and like everything with Sara I struggled to move on from this peculiar behaviour until I got an answer. Well… today I finally got it when I woke up and felt something strange by my feet. I pulled back the sheets and saw something that made my heart sink and a cold sweat form on the back of my neck. I was wearing a toe tag. I think I have underestimated her patience, and I am starting to appreciate just why she found that night in the morgue to be little more than a setback. On the tag itself, my name is scrawled on one line, and on the date of death below, she has simply written, *In just a few days.*

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pejbr/i_met_a_cute_girl_on_tinder_but_some_of_her/

nosleep

ChristianWallis

Endless dream part 1

Have you ever thought "Dreams are not real!" if you had said anything as such i would have said you were right... Until that is, October 5th 2002. That is when i think the dreams first started, but it might have been a month or two before that, well i am not sure. but i don't think you really care about that kinda information to be honest i don't think you will believe me but i don't care i need to put this somewhere because i feel like this is one of my last chances too do so. October 5th 2002. If i remember correctly i was in the living with my mom and dad as they sat on the two fluffy red arm chairs brand new they were really nice chairs, while me and my little sister Emily were playing with our toys thinking about how Halloween is only 26 or so days away and the fact we would be snacking on so many sweets. (not important to the story but the house was just small not big or too small but yea two bedrooms living and kitchen. living room We spent a lot of time that day running around the house watching cartoons with mom and dad and the fact it was so blissful. Time flew by that day and until it was night it was some dreaded time now that i think about it but 6 year old me just wanted to stay up. When i opened my eyes i felt like i was dreaming it was poring rain and pitch black with a dim light and felt terrifying beyond belief. I look around until i spotted him or so i thought, he was more none human so more of an it but anyway he was tall lanky he looked like he could reach up to five meters. Had long greasy black hair with soulless eyes, those goddamn eyes! scare me shitless those two features where the only thing i made out i started running back but it matched my pace to the T. I felt like i was running for hours and then heard this inhumane scream then laughter as it picked up a knife out of thin air and hurled it at me, next thing i felt was a distinct pain in my cheek as blood weld up and dropped from the cut. October 6th 2002 Then i woke up and "ow" my cheek hurt, so i went and looked in the mirror and to my bloody horror blood was dropping down my face. then i did the only thing a 6 year old would do i started cry my dad came in to comfort me and saw they cut confused as to what happened he asked "Hey buddy what happened to your face?" so i tried my best to explain my nightmare in a crying frenzy he brushed it off and put a plaster over my cut. 6 year old me thought i was better forgot all about the man in the nightmare so i went about my day. I went to the store to get the weekly shopping with my mom i always loved spending time with her she had long hazelnut brown hair with hazelnut brown eyes with a smile and kindness that would cheer up anyone she was medium height for a girl and was very beautiful. We got the stuff we needed like bread milk washing up liquid and tablets dishwasher tablets stuff like that you know?. We got home and unpacked i ran to Emily and sat next to her and started watching spongebob squarepants after a while, we ate dinner and went to bed then the nightmare was there again. i took one step over to the man which reveled an ear to ear smile with teeth like knifes but that wasn't the worst part. There was so much blood like he teeth were red no white to be scene. i took 2 steps back he took one forward and the smile was no longer able to be scene i sat down and asked him, "why are you here? who are you?" i heard the sound of glass smashing and heard a cackle then was woken up. October 7th 2002"What are you doing jack? it is 25 past 8! you normal wake up at 7!." What are you on about only then did i think oh no SCHOOL and then i rushed to get dressed and then went to school. like most of the time nothing really happened, didn't learn much and then went home did my homework and such and just went to sleep. There it was again by now i didn't care i just waited about 20 minutes past so i thought i am not sure how long it was though because it was a dream. Then an annoyed sound came and it tossed something at me... it was OWW!! aH A kNiFe!?! it was such a sharp pain i started to cry pulled out the knife it was blindingly pain full and went to throw the knife and then stopped it saw its face and its smile was bigger and looked like it wanted me to do just that, to throw the knife at it but a gut feeling came saying no i can't i blacked out and woke up October 8th 2002i was in the hospital and they looked at me and then they were just bringing me in to get my arm patched up and i saw them all they all looked funny in my eyes the pain in my arm i couldn't feel it then they said "soon this pain will be gone don't worry." i was back. BACK IN THIS GOD DAMNED PLACE I SHOUTED, it was there, again. This time i was in this place and for some reason it was a bit lighter in this place but not by much, still almost pitch black and still couldn't taste smell or touch anything nor could i see the creature any better then last time. though this time it felt so scary and lonely i never felt like this in this room and so even though that thing was still there i asked are you lonely? then it talked "yOu tHiNK i hAvE hUmAn emotions?" "only pleasure, rage, annoyance and -\]\[;'=';\\'./.;\[\[;'\[\\\\\\" What i said" it said it wouldn't repeat itself and then we just talked and i came too October 9th 2002 The doctors asked me about my wounds and i just said that i didn't know they told me my parents said the same but what could we say no one would trust a kid and the hell would my parents know they were confused and scared for my health because for the past 4 days i was getting wounded they set up cameras in my room and then i just sleep in the hospital until i was discharged nothing strange happened there in fact nothing happen for a long time we thought it was over june 10th 2006

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16qbzr0/endless_dream_part_1/

nosleep

Left-Soup-8867

Science has found something worse than hell.

As research on quantum particles has improved, the "many worlds" theory seems to have more and more evidence. as of just a few days ago, a lab located in Saudi Arabia found something truly disturbing. the research team was able to map different particles based on which universe it supposedly comes from. they were able to get sounds out of certain frequencies of these particles, and other information such as heat, and light, but due to restrictions a full camera couldn't be made. the researchers ran multiple experiments. first they tried running it on their own universe as a control. it was responsive, and the sound copied what was in the room. the thermometer read 19.1°C. the last test was the light. and it read the same as in the room. they were ready to test it on other frequencies. some frequencies sounded exactly the same as the current room. others, sounding like a city, or meadow. some were silent. one of the silent frequencies read room temperature, but a light level of absolute zero, unlike other silent ones where there was at least a miniscule amount of light. Everything was going well until they came to a certain frequency that some people quote "You can never unhear". It was very garbled, but it sounded like screaming, constant winds, and flames. they were very surprised with what they heard. some thought it might be broken. they did more tests and found out that every other frequency worked differently than that one. after more testing they came to the conclusion that it was not broken, but it left another question: What was the sound they were hearing? they thought it might have been some atmospheric pressure, or a planet's center, but they were all wrong. the researchers looked at the light levels, and it flickered, it was never constant, and it was very hectic. the temperature levels fluctuated from absolute 0 kelvin to 483.15 kelvin, within a matter of seconds. the lab published their papers, people were very confused, some tried debunking that it was something simple, but they could always be proven wrong. others frantically tried to find answers to this phenomena, but to no avail. lastly, people conspiracised that it was actually hell, or some sort of torture. even though this was brushed off, it was actually the one pointing to the most evidence, with the screaming, the temperature, the flickering. after new technology they tested more things, and it always pointed towards this. in search for an answer they frantically tried to mock up an infrared camera, because normal photons and light would dissipate before they could be recorded, infrared signals were the only things that worked. they recorded the new frequency and found a very grainy image, due to the fluctuation in temperature. they took several pictures and averaged them together, there was always a spot, slightly brighter in the image that was shaped like a person, floating in mid air. some quotes from the researchers: "It was almost too much to look at." "to imagine someone there, constantly bombarded with senses must be a fate worse than death" "it's like an anti limbo, instead of absolute sensory deprivation it's just tv static and paresthesia." the image was not released to the public, but the sound was, alongside the first paper. I must warn you that the sound is loud and disturbing and your discretion is advised, but if you wish to hear it then I have provided a small sample of the recording [HERE](https://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/1249037). I don't know who may be there, or if they even exist, but there are some things that just shouldn't be messed with, and I think this might be one.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ppp8f/science_has_found_something_worse_than_hell/

nosleep

Skullcat324

Kids pull some Halloween pranks and get their just desserts

“Gather ‘round kiddies, and I’ll tell you a tale of an old woman, just a smidgen younger than me,” the old crone said, rocking slowly in her chair. “This woman lived all alone in a large house on a hill. Most people were terrified, and never visited. But it wasn’t the woman that frightened them, it was the house. Being an old mansion, it had an ominous look to it. The woman was unable to keep up with repairs, which made it look more decrepit and frightening. But it wasn’t always that way. As is usually the case with such stories, its beginnings are rooted in the past.” \*\*\* There once was a handsome young man who fancied himself a magician. He had a solid, if unspectacular, routine and made a decent living entertaining parties and small groups. Then he met her. The moment he saw her, she took his breath away, quite literally. It was back in the thirties, when cobblestone streets and horse drawn carriages were on the way out, and automobiles and concrete roads were on the way in. He was crossing the street, lost in thought (as he frequently was) when he stepped in front of her horse and buggy. The impact knocked him to the ground, and took the wind out of him. When he came to, she was hovering over him with a haze about her that made her seem more alluring than any woman he had ever met. She profusely apologized, and offered to take him to the hospital. But he would have none of it, instead he requested that she accompany him to dinner that night. Blushing, she said yes, and so began a whirlwind courtship that ended in marriage. They were wonderful together. She started doing shows as his assistant, and his popularity rose. She gave him the confidence to try better and more exciting tricks, and he grew even more popular. As his confidence grew, he moved on to tricks that were mind boggling, that carried fatal risks, and soon he was filling theaters nightly. She never left his side, and they shared the applause together every night. They were making money hand over fist, but they were very frugal about spending it. Even so, she noticed large sums of money disappearing here and there from their bank account. When she questioned him about it, he became nervous and told her not to fret. Even still, it bothered her, so she asked one of her sisters to look into it. After a week, her sister called on her, and told her things were just fine, and she would enjoy what was coming. Instead of feeling comforted, she became suspicious of her sister. It was their third wedding anniversary, and he drove her to the outskirts of town. The street they were driving on came to a sudden end. As if the men making it just up and vanished. He parked the car and got out, walked over to her side, and opened the door for her. “Come, my love,” he said, offering his hand. She got out, and looked around but there was nothing but empty fields. “This way,” he said, pointing to a certain spot. The evening fog was creeping up on them as he donned his hat and cape. He pulled out his wand, and did the ‘Nothing up my sleeve’ routine. She was less than amused, in fact, she was downright annoyed. Then he turned toward the field and began waving his wand in circles. A sudden storm began to blow. The wind whipped her hair, and took his hat, but he kept on waving his wand. “My love,” she said, nearly screaming over the din. “Perhaps it would be safer in the car.” He pretended not to hear her, and carried on. Suddenly a lightning bolt struck not one hundred feet from where they stood. The impact knocked them both to the ground. As quickly as the storm had begun, it ended. He brushed himself off, and helped her up. “What was that all about?” she asked. “Look,” he said, pointing where the lightning had struck. The empty field now held a house. However, calling it a house barely did it justice. It was huge, a borderline mansion. There were three stories above ground. It was built in gothic, Victorian styles. “Exactly as I always pictured it,” she said, hugging him as her annoyance melted away. “Thank you!” The next few years were a bit of a roller coaster. He didn’t tell her everything about the house. “Like every great lady, she has her mysteries to be found,” he told her. Trap doors and hidden passageways were just the beginning. It was like living a wonderful adventure. The fame and fortune continued to rise, all that was missing was an heir. She had always loved children. She volunteered reading at the library every week, and they gave very generously to children’s charities. She had wanted to have several of her own, but alas, it was not to be. The doctor had tried to tell her as gently as possible that she couldn’t bear children, but she was no less devastated. She fell into a deep depression, and he cancelled several shows to be with her, but she was inconsolable. He came to her one night. “My love, I have to go back to work,” he said. “Please don’t,” she replied. “Can’t you take a leave?” “I already have. Any more and I won’t have an audience to return to.” “I don’t want you to go,” she pleaded. “It’ll be fine,” he said, softly stroking her hair. “I’ll be back soon.” “You can’t do it without me,” she said quietly, with tears streaming down her cheeks. It was merely a statement of fact, and a desperate plea. He took it as an accusation, and quietly left the house. She never saw him alive again. \*\*\* The next day, the headlines in the newspapers told of a tragic accident. A popular magician had perished when a dangerous trick had gone wrong. The news devastated her even more. She plummeted past depression, past melancholy, into a near comatose state. Her sisters came and nursed her back to health, but it took nearly a year, and she emerged a different person. The house became everything to her. She cared for it as she would a child. Years wore on, and apathy began to creep in. Fame and fortune quickly dissipated like the vapor that they are. She became more and more defensive of the house, even while allowing it to fall into disrepair. She barely went outside anymore, leaving the weeds and bushes in a life or death struggle for territory. Years became decades. The famous magician and his wife were forgotten, but the house became legend. It was something to be feared and avoided by all but the most daring and foolish. Halloween was the perfect time for both … \*\*\* The lone tree in the front yard was nearly as tall as the house itself. And like the house, it had a look that sent chills down most people’s spines. Its limbs curled in the most unusual ways. Sometimes if you caught it at just the right time, it seemed to move even though the air was completely still. I’ve known this woman for a long time. She could be called many things, quirky, eccentric, even strange, but not evil. The house kept people away, isolating her from society. Strange things happen to people who are isolated. They begin to see the world in a different light. The things they have around them become much more precious to them. Anything that happens to those things becomes a much greater injustice in their eyes. This old woman had been satisfied to live alone with her memories. Live and let live had been her motto for years, but like everyone else, she had her breaking point. It became a tradition around Halloween, this woman’s house would become a target for eggings, cornings, even a brave soul or two would get close enough to do the ‘doggie doo fire bag’ routine. These all annoyed the old woman, but not as much as the toilet paper in the tree. Rolls and rolls of it. At one point, she considered investing in ‘Charmin’ stock just before Halloween. Every night the onslaught of garbage began just after dark, and usually ended around midnight. Every morning the house looked mysteriously untouched. It was like some giant vacuum cleaner had come along and sucked up all the mess. Some of the neighborhood boys had become frustrated as well that their evening work could not be appreciated in the morning. Johnny, Chris and their friends had personally egged, corned, and TP’d the house five times in the same week. With Johnny doing the ‘doggie doo’ bag himself. Every morning when they walked past the house on the way to middle school, Johnny would be furious to see it clean again. “She must come out and clean it up,” Johnny said. “I just don’t know how she does it all in one night, especially the toilet paper. It must be thirty feet to the top of that tree.” “Maybe she uses a ladder,” Chris said. “I don’t know, but I’ve got to find out,” Johnny said. “Tonight, we’ll all meet near the old lady’s house around midnight. We’ll find out her secret.” That night, all five of them met around quarter till twelve. It was a cool October night. The dry leaves raced around the yard playing a furious game of tag, at the whim of the wind. The house had been hit hard. Eggs covered the windows, corn littered the porch, and the tree was white with toilet paper. So much TP that it looked like an early snow. The boys found a spot out of sight in the bushes where they could see the front porch. They pulled their jackets close around them, and waited, with boredom as their only companion. Their resolve started to wane when storm clouds rolled up. They were about to give up when the old woman walked out onto her porch. Looking at her, Johnny was somewhat surprised. She didn’t look the way he thought she would. Yes, you could tell she was old, especially in the face, but she wasn’t bent over, didn’t have a long nose with a wart on the end. She was wearing a light jacket instead of a shawl. None of the stereotypes Johnny had expected. I guess I thought she’d look like a witch from the movies. The boys all tried to stay out of sight. They watched as she surveyed the carnage and slowly shook her head. The tree started moving and creaking, making noises the boys had never heard a tree make. The old woman looked at the tree, then turned and looked straight at the bushes they were hiding behind. There was a blinding flash, then darkness. Johnny’s last thought was, What’s that in her hand? \*\*\* Johnny woke with a start. He thought he felt the vibration of thunder. He rolled over to see if it was raining yet, but the ground felt strange. It was smooth, with a soft texture to it. The darkness was so complete that he couldn’t see anything. No moon, no stars, no streetlights, nothing. He couldn’t hear anything either, or feel the wind blowing. It was like being covered by a heavy blanket. He tried to stand, but couldn’t get his balance in the dark. He tried again, and started shuffling forward, nearly falling over what felt like a log. He carefully stepped over it, only to run into something solid. He ran his hands along the smooth surface, trying to figure out what it was. One thing Johnny knew, this thing was big, much bigger than him. He shuffled along the object until he felt a depression. He felt around and came across something familiar. It was small and round, and fit his hand. A doorknob? He wondered who had put a door out by the bushes. He tried to turn it, but nothing happened. He felt around some more and came across a light switch. He flicked it on and was momentarily blinded while his eyes adjusted. When he could see again, he couldn’t believe what he saw. He was in a large bedroom. Chris and his other friends were lying on the floor, unconscious. On the bed were several dolls. He tried to wake his friends, but they were sleeping too deeply. There were two other doors in the room, but they both led to closets. As he was exploring the room, Johnny noticed a green glow coming from outside. He went to the window and looked out, but he didn’t see the light. The night was cloudy, and storm clouds were brewing. He could see the tree and the front yard. He tried to think how they had gotten into the bedroom, and how long they had been there. He went back to the first door he had tried and jimmied it open with his Swiss army knife. The door clicked open and creaked just a little bit. He winced at the sound, then stepped into the hallway and clicked the door shut again. The hallway was long with several other doors leading off of it. There was a beautiful rug that ran the length of the hallway. It was decorated with patterns of red and gold. At first, it looked pristine and beautiful, but after a second look, he saw the colors were faded, with stains here and there and frayed edges. He tried the next door, and was surprised that it opened. He peeked inside but the room was pitch black, and Johnny debated if he should risk turning on the light. As is so often the case, curiosity overwhelms common sense. Johnny flipped on the light switch and found himself in a room that looked nearly identical to the room he had just escaped from. As he looked around, something caught his eye. The dolls on the bed were similar to the ones in the other room, the only difference was their clothes. They looked like outcasts from the seventies. The striped t-shirts, the boot cut pants, and the shaggy hairdoos. Something else bothered him about the dolls. It was the eyes, they were just too real. He picked one up and it was heavier than he expected. He stood mesmerized, staring into the doll’s eyes. A boom of thunder startled him so much that he quickly turned to see what it was. When he did, the doll dropped out of his hands and hit the corner of the bed stand. Johnny quickly put the doll back on the bed and left the room, never seeing the small spot of red on the doll’s back where it had hit the bed stand. Johnny backed into the hallway as quietly as possible, when the house exploded with sound and light. Johnny fell to the floor and crapped his pants. He covered his eyes and waited for his doom. The house became still again, as he opened his eyes and peeked between his fingers. He was still alive. He had not been magically transported to hell or blown into tiny pieces. Once again there was a blinding flash. This time, the thunder rolled a few seconds later, making the house tremble. Realizing what had happened, Johnny cursed himself for being so jittery. He searched through the rooms, looking for a clean pair of pants. He found something that he thought would fit, then got cleaned up in the bathroom. Looking at himself in the bathroom’s full length mirror, he shook his head. The top looked fine, a leather jacket over a Metallica T-shirt. The boots were okay too, wearing tan work boots. In between was the problem. He had found a pair of white pants that weren’t quite long enough to reach his knees, and had frilly cuffs. Having no pockets in these pants, he transferred everything from his jeans to his jacket. He crept down the large, circular staircase, taking notice of the huge chandelier. It must have been breathtaking fifty years ago, now it was just a sad shadow of its former self. The once shiny brass was now tarnished. Out of the hundreds of lights that used to shine brightly, lighting upstairs and down, only three bulbs were now lit. The weak light, and cobwebs that had encompassed it, created a sense of gloom. Lightning flashed again, casting strange shadows over the hallway. Johnny reached the bottom of the staircase, and heard footsteps approaching. He froze. Scanning the hallway, he saw no hiding places. He ran to the front door, and found it locked. He turned and saw a giant grizzly bear lunging at him. Startled, he took a step back. Then he realized it was stuffed. It stood eight feet tall, with teeth exposed and claws outstretched, as if attacking. With no place else to go, he tried to move the bear, but it was too heavy. The footsteps got closer. In desperation, he dove between the bear’s legs, and shimmied up behind it. This bear must’ve been here forever. Johnny thought, looking around at the cobwebs that he had ripped down to make room for his hiding place. Johnny felt exposed as the old woman walked down the hallway, straight towards him. She was carrying a large tray with several bowls on it. She turned and started up the stairs, balancing the tray with ease. Just before she mounted the first step, Johnny swore he saw her look straight at him and give the slightest of grins. \*\*\* Chris woke before the rest. He looked around but didn’t see Johnny anywhere. Just then, the old woman entered the bedroom carrying the tray. She seemed surprised to see Chris awake. “Are you feeling better young man?” she said in a voice that sounded much softer and melodious than Chris expected. “What did you do to us?” Chris demanded. “Me? Not much, just save your life.” Chris rubbed his eyes, making sure he was fully awake. “What are you talking about?” “A bolt of lightning hit the bushes you boys were hiding behind. It knocked me down, it was that close. When I was able to get up, I came over to check on you boys. The others were merely unconscious, but you weren’t breathing. I had to give you mouth to mouth.” Chris looked at that wrinkled face, and imagined her old, wrinkled lips pressed against his, he suppressed a shudder. “I guess I should thank you,” he said hesitantly. “You’re very welcome young man,” she said smiling, revealing several rotting and missing teeth. “It was my pleasure.” She winked at Chris as he fought back a sudden wave of nausea. The other boys began to stir. They got up and began asking the same questions Chris had. She patiently answered them all, as Chris looked out the window. It was still dark, with no trace of morning twilight at all. Chris thought it couldn’t have been more than one or two o’clock in the morning. Then a revelation slapped him across the face. The yard was clean! There was nothing in the trees, nothing on the porch. No eggs, no corn, no TP anywhere. Something’s wrong, there’s no way she could’ve cleaned up that fast. She suddenly looked at him, as though peering straight into his mind and reading his thoughts. “What’s the matter, sonny?” she said with a smile. “you look like you just seen a ghost.” “How did …?” “I clean up so fast?” she said, finishing his sentence. “That’s easy, I didn’t. You boys have been unconscious for nearly a day now.” “That’s not possible,” Chris said slowly. “Young man, I believe you may be in shock, why don’t you sit down.” Chris sat in a comfortable chair that he didn’t remember seeing before. He tried to run through the facts in his head, but his thoughts seemed fuzzy, and he couldn’t focus. “I brought you boys some stew. I knew you hadn’t eaten in a while, and I thought you might be hungry.” She handed them each a warm bowl and a spoon. None of them realized how hungry they were until they smelled the wonderful aroma coming from the bowls. They hungrily dove into the delicious white gravy and morsels in the bowls. They finished their meals and asked for more, which she graciously provided. Chris was starting to feel a tug at his conscience. She’s not so bad. Maybe we’re wrong to pick on her so much. Maybe we should skip the tradition next Halloween. The old woman dished out four more bowls of stew, which the boys devoured. “This is delicious,” Chris said. “What’s in it?” “Well it’s sort of a Halloween tradition in this house,” she started. “I fill a kettle halfway up with water, add some spices, then put in my main ingredients. Corn, Eggs, Toilet paper, and whatever else I find laying around the porch.” She smiled at Chris. The boys each turned a different shade of green and vomited. “Isn’t this fun?” she said with a maniacal grin. “We should do this every year. Next let’s play a game.” “A game?!?” Chris spat. “Yes. This game is called, ‘Guess what I’m going to do next.’” She said, pulling a wand out of her pocket. Chris’s eyes grew wide as he realized he had seen that wand in her hand right before the ‘Lightning’ had struck. They froze in horror as a green glow emanated from the wand, shrinking their bodies smaller and smaller. An instant later, four new dolls appeared on the bed. They were dressed exactly the same as the boys had been, and had the same look of confusion and panic in their eyes. She looked at the dolls and smiled. “Happy Halloween boys.” \*\*\* After she had disappeared up the stairs, Johnny wiggled back out of his hiding place. While brushing himself off, he noticed several spiders had been crawling on him. Having quite a spider phobia, Johnny did a comical little dance while trying to rip his jacket off. Spiders fell to the floor left and right, while he brushed himself off. Every spider that fell, Johnny crushed with his boot. When he was satisfied that none were left on him, he bent down to see what kind of spider they were. They were black, with thin legs. On the large round body of each spider was what looked like a red hourglass. Johnny panicked and ran, leaving his coat behind. At the end of the hallway he stopped and stared at the three doors facing him. Before he could decide which door to take, the decision was taken out of his hands. The wonderful aroma of food reached out from behind the door to the left, and pulled him in. He found himself in a large kitchen, with an open fireplace in the middle of it. Something was cooking inside the large hanging pot. He looked in at the creamy white gravy, bubbling with dumplings in it. He poured himself a bowl, and began eating. After the first bite, he went straight to devouring, it tasted so good. He looked around while he was eating, and saw a cookbook sitting open. It was handwritten, and the recipe it was on said, ‘Halloween Revenge’. That’s a strange name for a recipe. Then he began to read the ingredients. His eyes getting wider with each sentence. When he was done, he forced himself to vomit. Remembering the tray of soup bowls, Johnny ran upstairs. Johnny burst through the bedroom door just in time to see a green light envelope his friends. He watched in horror as they shrunk smaller and smaller, until they were just dolls lying on the floor. “No!” he screamed. The old woman whipped around to face him. “Why are you wearing my underpants?” she said. “Umm …I had an accident,” he said. They looked at each other awkwardly. She pointed her wand at him and smiled. Before he could say or do anything, he was enveloped in green light. She magically tied him to a chair. “You must be the leader,” she said. He couldn’t move or speak. “…the one who couldn’t just prank and run,” she said, circling him. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” she growled. She looked as though she was on the borderline between uncontrollable rage and bursting into tears. She saw his eyes looking at the dolls. “Which one of these was your best friend?” She hovered her hand over each of the dolls, stopping at Chris. “Let’s go with this one.” She laid the doll on the bed where he could see it, then produced a wicked looking knife. “These dolls are quite unique,” she said. “The person trapped inside can see …” She waved the knife in front of the doll’s eyes. “Hear …” She tapped the knife against the doll’s ear. “And feel, everything.” She smiled a wicked smile at Johnny, then plunged the knife into the doll’s chest, causing its clothes to rapidly turn red. “The thing about it is, even though they can feel everything, they are helpless to react. Can you even imagine how that feels?” She knew that he knew exactly how that felt. He also was trapped inside his own body, unable to move. All he could do was watch and listen. “Ooh, I’ll bet that hurt,” she said, as she cut the doll’s right arm off. “By the way, that’s his real blood.” Johnny was beyond enraged as he watched the blood flow out of the doll’s body. He imagined himself holding the knife, and doing to her all the things she had done, and more. As if she could sense his rage, it fueled her into mania. She wildly slashed, stabbed, and tore at every doll in the room. Blood splattered everywhere as she rampaged on and on. Finally, exhausted, she stopped and stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard and covered in blood. She smiled as she surveyed the carnage. “Mother always told us if we didn’t take care of our toys, someday we wouldn’t have them.” said a voice behind her, “I guess you didn’t heed that warning.” The old lady whipped around impossibly fast. “You startled me, sister,” she said. The visitor looked at what remained of the dolls. “I see you’ve added to your collection.” “More rowdy kids, I don’t expect they’ll be missed.” “Like our sister wasn’t missed?” the visitor said. “I told you before, she shouldn’t have interfered.” “And you shouldn’t have turned on her.” “I take care of her!” the old woman raged. “These young punks keep throwing toilet paper at her!” “If you hadn’t turned her into a tree, she wouldn’t be there for them to throw at!” “So, what’s your point? That this is completely my fault?” “I can’t allow you to keep doing this,” the visitor said. “It makes more work for me to cover it up.” “These kids had to be punished!” “There are other forms of punishment.” The old lady eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you here?” The visitor sighed. “To punish you.” The old lady’s wand came up in a flash, but the visitor was prepared. A brilliant orange light flashed out of her own wand before the old lady could aim hers. Her scream slowly diminished, as her body dissolved in an orange glow. Outside in the yard, a new tree grew taller by the second. When it finally stopped, it was fully grown, almost an identical match to the other tree, already in the yard. “I’m sorry, sister,” the visitor said sadly. \*\*\* The woman came back inside, picked up her sister’s wand, and released Johnny. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. Johnny looked like he wanted to beat the hell out of her, but seeing the wand in her hand made him think twice. “My loss?” he said. “You mean your psychotic sister murdering my friends?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t pretend to be blameless in this, boy! It was you, and others like you who pushed her to this madness.” “Would you compare toilet paper to blood?” he said, pointing at the dismembered dolls. She sighed and bowed her head. “Come with me,” she said. He looked at her with equal parts anger and fear. “I want to show you what I go through to protect you people every time this happens,” she said, walking out of the room. He hesitated, then followed out of curiosity. “What did you mean, ‘every time this happens’?” he asked. She pretended not to hear him as she unlocked the front door. They walked straight to Chris’ house. Johnny swallowed hard. “Are we here to tell Chris’ parents what happened?” he asked. “Something like that.” She pointed her wand at the lock, which glowed orange, and they walked in. Chris’ parents were sitting on the couch when she zapped them. As they sat wide-eyed, and glowing orange, she began mumbling. “What are you doing?” Johnny asked. “I’m telling them they never had a son named Chris.” “What?” “It’s the only way.” Before he could protest, she walked up the stairs to Chris’ room, and pointed her wand at it. It started to shake, and then folded in on itself like a cardboard box. Everything inside simply ceased to exist. The door disappeared as well. The wall simply smoothed over the opening, and Chris Connors was no more. Johnny was devastated. Back downstairs, she made one final statement to the parents. “The old house on the hill,fear it, avoid it, have nothing to do with it.” Then they glowed orange one last time, implanting the thought in their subconscious. When she felt the thought had taken root, she turned and left. “Wait a minute,“ he said, following her. “That’s it? You just walk in and tell them they never had a son?“ “Would you rather I just murdered them, and put the gun in your hand?“ she said with cool detachment, as if she had just asked if he preferred coffee or tea. “No, I suppose not,“ he said, as she turned and continued up the street. Johnny was too upset to do anything but follow her. As they walked away, he glanced back at the house. He could see where Chris’ room should have been. It looked like it had just been cut out with a giant knife. The siding over it looked perfect, as if the room never existed. But in Johnny’s mind the house just looked wrong. As they walked, he noticed several other houses that had that same look, like something was just off. They repeated the whole process three more times, before walking back to Johnny’s house. Even though they must have walked for hours, Johnny didn’t feel tired. It didn’t seem to be getting any closer to daylight either. They stopped right in front of his house. “So now we come to a point where I have to make a choice,” she said. “What choice?” he said, not liking the sound of this. “Do I do to you what my sister did to Chris, your friends, and hundreds of other children over the years, or do I simply erase your memory and let you scamper away?” All during the evening, Johnny had been holding the line between fear and rage. When she made this statement, the rage melted away like butter in a microwave. “I’ve always been good at scampering,” he said. She pointed her wand at him and smiled. \*\*\* Johnny walked past the living room, on his way to bed. He was exhausted, but not sure why. “Where have you been?” his mom said. “It’s almost one in the morning.” “I’ve been …” He trailed off, trying to remember. “You were out corning again, weren’t you?” she asked. “You’re gonna get arrested one of these days.” “No, I didn’t go corning,” he said. “I hate doing that crap.” He had made that statement to her many times over the years, this time it was actually true. \*\*\* “So, what do you think of my story kiddies?” the old woman said. “Did you like it?” Five boys, ages ten to twelve, stared at her with blank faces. The oldest boy quietly said, “We’re sorry about the toilet paper.” “Think nothing of it,” she smiled. “It’s Halloween, and boys will be boys.” She turned and reached behind her. “Have some stew. It’s a recipe I got from my sister.” They looked at the bowl of white gravy, with corn, and other chunks floating in it, then ran out the door, screaming. She walked into the front yard, leaned against one of the trees, and said. “You see sister, other forms of punishment.” As if to answer, the tree creaked and groaned.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pwir9/kids_pull_some_halloween_pranks_and_get_their/

nosleep

Horror_writer_1717

When It Hummed Part.1

Have you seen the kind of photos they show you when you try to pickup your wedding gown? Well, I am one of those models, so you might’ve seen me before. I was on set when it showed up. There was a unique new brand planned to have a series of photographs for their wedding dresses. I used the word ‘unique’ ‘cause they asked me to put on a violet mermaid dress with a red Chinese quilted jacket. I know nothing about designing, but it’s feeling a bit out of place. And they didn’t set the scene in a lovely garden or in front of a gorgeous water fountain like other photos. It was in the dark, narrow and gloomy alley which is rather odd considering the dress I wore. There were a small group of people standing around us during the shooting, and the couple beside the photographer (the designer told me they’re potential buyers) judging me while he gave the instructions. You might think that as a model I already used to the staring and judgements, but I am always stressed and frustrated when we have company. It feels like they’re expecting me to make mistakes or trying to find a flaw in me. And I’ll never good enough for them. But it’s job, I have to be professional and bury all my insecurities or doubts. Also, I still need to pay my rent. I wasn’t sure how I noticed it in the first place. It looks like a handsome gentleman who wore a black two-piece suit with a blue bowtie, casually walked through the opposite side of the street. It was a beautiful sight line for me to take a break from my work, until it hummed. At first it’s merely whispering, the rhythm was familiar but I couldn’t recognize it. Then it became louder after each time it repeated, like the slowly building orchestral crescendo of the Bolero, and became deafening. That’s when I realized why I couldn’t recognize it, because every single note it hummed was stretched, cracked and broken. Even though the noise sustained, it seemed like I was the only one noticing it. When I was frozen due to the sound, there was a stunning lady approached it and asked for its number. It gave her the most disturbing smile I’ve ever seen, and suddenly shape-shifted as some kind of black veil wrapped that poor lady. I saw her smart phone dropping off, before the phone touch the ground, it transformed into the stunning lady. And the humming stopped. I was terrifying and couldn’t feel my breath, like my brain was shutting down all of the sudden. My job was not my top priority at that moment, the only thing I wanna do is run away. “I quit. “ I took off the red jacket, it’s never my type anyway. “What are you talking about? You can’t quit. “ “But I am quitting now. “ I stripped down the dress and the photographer turned to stop me. “Hey! Don’t stop her, we wanna see those boobies and buttocks! Go on sweetie!” Some dude shouted to the photographer. I could hear the whistles and phone clicks in the crowd, normally I would feel embarrassed, but now I didn’t care anymore. I picked up my stuff and prepared to leave. Some disappointing murmurs came from the crowd behind me. The same dude who encouraged me to take off my clothes yelled something like stay a little longer. I took a glance at that man, and my heart dropped. It was staring straight at me. And the humming began. [Part.2](https://reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/ubHTrDJQxI)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16q7846/when_it_hummed_part1/

nosleep

covetta2182

Monster of Midway: Deeds of the Dead

**Monster of Midway** [Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/160io59/the_monster_of_midway_fort_worden/) | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1674mp9/monster_of_midway_rebecca_redding/) | [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ce3mh/monster_of_midway_creature_in_the_woods/) Sorry it's been awhile, but honestly I was debating whether or not to continue the story. Reliving these events has been... well... it was overwhelming for a few days, and I almost deleted the posts entirely, but I feel like if I do that then I just continue being a slave to this for the rest of my life. ​ I can’t tell you how terrifying those first days were after seeing the creature in the woods outside my bedroom window. I was uncertain of everything around, questioning my very understanding of the workings of the world, and my perceived safety therein. Worst of all I had no one to talk about my experience with. No one to give me context– some anchor to tether myself to my new reality. I know it may sound far fetched. That what I’ve written so far is nothing but the imaginings of someone who is as bored with their life as they are disturbed within it. I assure, for what it’s worth, that I wish as much as you do that what I’ve recounted so far was nothing but some waking nightmare which could be rationally removed from reality. If what I had experienced before the events of that night had been isolation, and depression– what I experienced after was nothing short of despair, and hopelessness. When I finally returned to school, I had all but forgotten about Danny Merrick, and Rebecca Redding’s insistence that he was innocent. I had something else to think about. Something consuming, and unrelenting. The place in my mind that had once been occupied by Danny Merrick, was now filled with skittering men made of twigs who clicked and cracked as they moved side to side like crab’s on all fours. The little hole in my brain where my own personal boogeyman lived. Those were lonely days. I didn’t trust my mouth not to recount the events, events that would surely sound like nonsense to anyone who listened, and so I kept my mouth shut, and my head down. Aaron and I had already begun to grow apart. Our parents had kept us from one another the remainder of the summer, and we’d each stewed in our trauma alone. Maybe that’s where we learned we no longer needed one another. Two boys becoming men, separately coming to the same conclusion that our friendship had run its course. When I kept my eyes down, and my mouth shut passing him in the hall, Aaron took the opportunity to keep walking himself and that was that. Our friendship, which had begun in pre-school, was over. Rebecca Redding, however, wasn’t so easily shaken loose. It was the third day back, when I noticed her staring. I could see it out of the corner of my eye. Her, just staring, waiting for me to look back at her. Waiting for our eyes to connect and her opportunity to harass me to present itself to her. I nearly made it to the weekend before, while yawning and absent mindedly looking about, our eyes connected. She smiled, splitting her face in two, waved enthusiastically, and rushed over. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, matter of fact, and placing her hands on her hips as if to scold me. I remember looking at her for a moment before responding. Her auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders, carelessly twisting in long attractive loose curls. I couldn’t decide if I was mad that she’d interrupted my self pity and dark introspection, or if I was happy to have someone break the cyclical thoughts in my head. “No I haven’t,” I blurted out, less than convincingly. “You have,” she replied, taking none of my nonsense. I turned my eyes down for a moment as I tried to find that well deep within me, where I’d buried any will to socialize, or be seen. That’s when Rebecca reached out, placing a hand on my arm. I winced, as if she meant to do me harm, and instantly felt ridiculous, but before I could explain away my cowardice, Rebecca bent down slightly, pulling my gaze from the floor. “You okay?” She whispered so only I could hear. I tried wiping the tears from my eyes, but no matter how fast I cleared them, they still managed to fall down my cheeks. “Yeah I’m-” I tried to say fine, but the word wouldn’t move past my lips. “Tell me,” she said, so earnestly I knew she meant it completely. Could I tell her? I thought to myself. But of course I couldn’t, she wouldn’t understand, how could she possibly believe what I had to tell her, what I desperately wanted to say was impossible. I stayed silent, chewing my lips, as that dark truth sat like a painful lump in my throat. “You wouldn’t believe me,” I whispered, instantly regretting the words. I knew she’d think this had to do with Danny Merrick, and my time at Fort Worden, and what happened the night Mark was murdered, but it had nothing to do with it. Surely, I thought, if I tell her she’ll think I’m insane. “I’ll trade you,” she said standing up straight. “Huh?” I sniffled, trying as best I could to compose myself. “I’ll tell you something you’ll never believe, and then you can tell me something I wouldn’t believe.”She sounded childish, almost flirtatious, but I knew it wasn’t that. I almost smiled, and if I hadn’t been so comfortable in my own misery at that point I would have. The absurdity of this dark, twisted version of ‘I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours” was comical in its ridiculousness. “You’ll think I’m crazy,” I said, feeling that itch that had been there since the night I saw the creature, the itch to tell someone getting stronger. “No, you’ll think I’m crazy,” she replied, laughing as she said it. She was always so earnest. Every word she said, she meant. There was comfort in that. Before I couldn’t accept or decline her odd offer, she clapped her hands together as if to sign the deal handshaking herself. “Ruby said you live over near Dirk Marsh, right?” I nodded. It was startling how well informed she was. “Right, meet you at 9pm under the third lamppost past Elmore Street. You know Elmore Street, right?” “The third lamppost? So random,” I chuckled to myself, briefly breaking my solemn mask, unable to stop myself. “It’s right outside my house,” she replied. I blushed. I knew she wasn’t flirting, but it was the first time a girl had ever invited me over to her house, even if her invite only extended to the sidewalk outside her front door. Thankfully the class bell rang interrupting us, and she turned away to pack her bags, as the flushness in my cheeks faded away. Turning back she smiled, and slung her backpack over her shoulder, before joining the throng of students shuffling their way to their next period. The rest of that day was a blur, as I practiced what it was I planned to tell her. I tried every single combination of words I could think of. In some iterations of the story, I played it off as if it were just a man in my backyard who tripped and fell before running away into the bushes, a failed home invasion. Other times, I tried inserting a lie here and there to make it more believable, but no matter what combination of invented medications or waking nightmares it only sounded more absurd. No matter how I conjured the story, and no matter the ingredients I used to get to the conclusion, it only sounded more ridiculous to me than the original impossibility of what I’d seen. Before I knew it I was sitting at the dinner table, across from my mom, who twirled spaghetti noodles around her fork as she stared at me. “What are you thinking about?” She asked, bringing me back to reality. “Nothing mom,” I replied, flashing her a brief smile. “No, it’s something,” She placed her fork down and leaned forward onto her elbows examining me. “Stop.” I said, feeling her gaze inspecting me. “What’s her name?” She asked, point blank. “Mom…”She leaned back, letting it go, and threw a knowing glance at my father who was being less than attentive to our interactions at the table. I wish I appreciated those little moments with my mom more. Those little moments when she’d try and tease me out of my shell, poking and prodding until I reacted to her in some way. At the time I still felt hurt, knowing that she, along with my dad, had doubted my innocence in the Fort Worden tragedy. Looking at her that year, she felt so far away, like a moat sat between us. Me, up in my castle, guards at the ready, defensive and on guard. Her just standing there, looking up, only a few feet shy of falling into the water below. Waiting for the drawbridge to come down and let her back in. I asked to be excused, and without waiting for an answer I packed up my knife and fork onto my plate, put it in the sink and shuffled off to my room. We ate early in my house, at that point in the night, the sun had just barely set. My room was filled with amber tones, and reds exaggerated by the spattered cover of heavy clouds thick and fat with rain. I lay on my bed staring up at the ceiling listening to the television blaring down stairs. I had spent so much time at home by then that I knew my parents nightly routine better than they knew it themselves. And a good thing I did, because there was no way they’d let me out past dark, not after the near death experience I’d had that summer. So I waited till I heard the television turn off, and the sound of my dad’s footsteps stomping up the stairs. I strained my ears to hear my mom rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, before she sat for 10 minutes glancing at her latest romance novel as she enjoyed the quiet of the house. Then the gentle knock came at my door, and the doorknob turned. My mom poked her head in, and smiled at me. “Goodnight my baby boy,” she said. “Goodnight mom,” I replied, practiced and without conviction. Normally she’d close the door, and go to bed, reading a little bit more before turning off her bedside lamp. The click of the switch the period at the end of the sentence, signifying her day was over. That night she looked at me a little while longer. There was sadness in her eyes. “You’ll be alright,” she said softly. I heard that same earnestness in her words, that Rebecca had spoken with. She truly meant it, and I nearly believed her. “Night mom,” I said once more. I wish I said more, it was much less than she deserved. I lay in bed, regretting the distance between my mom and I. We’d always been close, and I couldn’t tell if it was my fault or hers, but like teenagers do, I blamed her as I pushed it to the back of my mind, and waited for the click of her bedside lamp switch. Click8:30pm, just in time. I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that both my parents were morning people who relished in waking up at the crack of dawn. I moved slowly about my room, grabbing a sweater and jacket. I threw my shoes out the window, knowing I could move past my window sill with more ease, and with less noise in socks than in shoes. I moved through my mental checklist, making sure I was over prepared for my kilometer long jaunt to Rebecca’s lamppost, and finally moved to throw myself out my first story window. That’s when I froze. I was standing exactly where I’d seen it, the creature in the woods. I felt cold sweat burst out from every pore, as I anticipated its reemergence. But it never came. For a few minutes I saw a phantom moving in the shadows. A darkness, darker than the night outside, but it was only my eyes playing tricks. Still, I was terrified. Breathing deeply, I counted to 10, closed my eyes and threw myself out of the window, holding my breath until I landed. If I landed, and nothing moved in the bushes, I was safe. There was no monster, nothing to attack me, nothing to eat me or kill me and crush my bones silently in the night while my parents slept. That’s the resolution I had made with myself. I landed, nothing moved, and I exhaled. Resolution or not I moved to lace up my shoes quickly with one eye glued to the tree line. I remember the regret of sneaking out that night. It was unlike the times I’d slipped through my window to meet Aaron for little to no reason other than to break the rules. That time was different. I was off to see a girl, and while I wasn’t going over to her house, like I said she had invited me over the lamppost just outside, which still felt monumental to me then. I jogged my way down the street, anticipating my house lights to turn on, and my dad’s car to pull out of the driveway and chase me down like an escaped convict, but they never did. I giggled to myself, feeling the adrenaline of rebellion wash away my fears and anxieties for 5 minutes or so as I trotted along, before I rounded the bend, and saw the green Elmore Street sign. I could see Rebecca Redding already outside, with her back to me. Her auburn hair was shimmering like a waterfall of copper flames under the streetlamp. She wore a black hoodie, matching black joggers, and a pair of converse. I laughed a little. Rebecca always dressed so much more feminine to school. “Rebecca,” I huffed as I came to a stop. Rebecca turned to me, and smiled.“ Ready?” She asked, as the smile fell from her face. “Right here?” I felt dumb asking, but it felt odd to share secrets underneath the lamppost outside her house. But then again, what did I expect, a moonlight walk recounting past trauma? She sat on the curb, and I followed. I stared at her uncomfortably, trying to make sense of her sudden personality change. I knew Rebecca Redding as the bubbly girl next door. The earnest, and straight forward girl who wouldn’t leave me alone, but on that curb we sat shoulder to shoulder in silence. “So…” I said, breaking the silence. It was the best I could do. “Me first, right…” She hugged her knees. I mirrored her, hugging my own knees tighter to myself. It was cold, and I could feel the rain begin to spit on us. “A secret for a secret,” she muttered to herself. Somewhere far away a train whistle blew and drifted over hills and houses. “I think I know who killed Mark,” she said, abruptly as if knowing it would be painful for me to hear. I had nothing to say. I felt my cheeks go red for the second time that day, but that time from anger. What the hell was the point of this? Was she obsessed? Was she only talking to me because she had some true crime kink she was trying to work through? I wanted to shout at her, but the lump in my throat returned and tied my vocal chords in knots. “It wasn’t Danny Merrick, because Danny was at his mom’s house that night,” she said pointing across the street at a pale blue house. It was a modest house, two stories, painted different shades of blue, that were so alike that they clashed with each other like trailer park garden pinwheels of assorted colors and shapes do. “I watched him break into his house, and steal food. Then I watched him walk across the road, and sit right here, and cry till the sun came up.” That sounded more unbelievable than what I had to share with her. Danny Merrick crying? I’d never heard of him speaking, much less expressing emotion or sadness like a normal human. But, what did I know about Danny Merrick? Not much. “Why?” I asked as the anger subsided, and gave way to curiosity. “I don’t know, but I want to find out.” We sat there in silence for a while longer, and I tried to imagine the boogeyman of my childhood sitting on the curb like a little boy, and crying. “Didn’t he run away?” I asked. “No,” she said. “Mrs. Merrick kicked him out, I think." “What for?” “She’s not a good person,” Rebecca said, turning to me. I looked into her green eyes, and felt ready to believe anything she told me next despite how far it felt removed from what I knew about Danny Merrick, and Mrs. Merrick– the darling elementary school teacher beloved by all. “He couldn’t have killed Mark, because he was here, kilometers away, sitting on the curb, crying by himself. I think he wanted to come home but Mrs. Merrick wouldn’t let him. She’s mean you know, I can hear her scream and shout all the way across the street with my window shut, and it used to be every day. Everyday, until Danny Merrick ran away, or was kicked out or whatever.” She took a moment to catch her breath, and calm down. I could tell the image of the boy devil all alone had left its mark on her. Me, and Danny Merrick– Rebecca seemed gravitationally pulled towards lost boys. “If Danny didn’t, then who?” She looked away from me, resting her chin on her knees pulled all the way up and close to her chest. “Don’t laugh,” she said, with a slight pout. “I promise.” “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she insisted, looking back towards me through the corner of her eye. “I won’t. I promise.” “I think it was Mr. Merrick.” I couldn’t tell if I had heard her right, the words barely sounded like English to me, and I’m not sure if my brain just couldn’t comprehend the idea, or the words in that order, or if it’s because she mumbled them. “Danny Merrick Senior… I think it was his dad. ”I tried to hold it in, but I laughed. Part of me still thought it was a sick prank, and I chose to laugh with the joke, then to be the butt end of it. “I’ve seen him!” She hissed at me, “Just standing and watching.” I deflated, all the laughter gone, and my face dropped. I felt that same hair raising feeling of being watched fall on me again. “What?” Rebecca said, leaning away from me. I was shaking. “You’re scaring me.” She said, tensing her shoulders. “You’ve seen him?” “I think so,” she said, nodding her head. [“Just standing, and watching from the edge of the woods. Just out of sight,” I said, and her face dropped.](https://open.spotify.com/show/4isOISm8gTLMgogJeJyV6s?si=0e5e68b2dbed488b) I'll try to update sooner this time.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pau41/monster_of_midway_deeds_of_the_dead/

nosleep

thetownwhispers

There was something in the treeline that night.

My name is Arthur. I’m a junior in College now, but was a sophomore in High School when the events I’m about to describe took place. To this day, I still don’t know what I saw in those woods, or what caused my grandfather to disappear, or why I still feel its presence watching over me when I’m alone. I’m getting ahead of myself. We should start from the beginning. It was the summer of 2018, I was just out of Freshman year and ready for that school sanctioned two month break. That is summer of course, that feeling of freedom, no homework, no tests, no drama. It's safe to say I was excited and relieved to finally be done, at least for a little while.One thing I always dreaded was the week-long stay over at my grandfather's house. Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandfather–or rather, loved–but there was absolutely nothing to do there. Granted it made sense, his house was out in the middle of nowhere. And by the middle of nowhere I mean, middle of the forest Kentucky. The way to his house was simple: pull off the highway into the dense woods down an 8 mile dirt road until you find an old wooden bridge. Past the bridge by about 2 miles you’d finally arrive at my grandfather's house. Apart from a few houses and shops sprinkled around along the road here and there, it was pretty desolate. And practically everyone kept to themselves. Pretty fitting for elders, at least that was what I told myself to keep from feeling like everyone around there hated each other, because it surely felt like they did. There had been a break-in a few months ago, someone was robbed and long story short, the whole community had been tense ever since. Names were thrown around, blame was passed on and off of people, some blamed a group of rowdy teens that had come down into the valley to cause a ruckus, some thought the local drug addict finally got around to searching for money where he had no business searchin’. But one man, my grandfather, believed it to be supernatural. Sightings of the unknown had been common around those parts since the early 80s. Sure, there were a few silly ghost stories here and there. But the primary, and to me the most terrifying one, was the story of the Nightman. There were sightings and stories told of him. A 9ft tall man, limbs as long as tree branches, and a face so terrifying it could haunt your dreams for generations. The stories were told as precaution, it was common knowledge in the valley that you **did not** go out at night. Doors were to be locked by 10PM and windows shut. Some people in the valley didn’t believe it, in fact, they laughed at it. It's just a silly folk tale after all. People went out for groceries at night, left windows open, and nothin’ happened. So they just believed it all to be bullsh\*t. Lucky ones, I say. Except my grandfather, he took it so seriously that I was to be in bed by ten every night with the curtains shut on every window-like object in my room. And I trusted him, the supernatural always interested me, and personally, I’m not one took take chances with that sh\*t. So I followed his rules, and that was that. It was a particularly hot day when my parents dropped me off at his house. While unpacking I could feel the sweat drip off my brow, and at that point I just wanted to get inside with A/C. My grandfather helped me finish unpacking, we all said our goodbyes, and my parents left for the week. It was just me and my grandfather. I expected a week full of board games, tv game shows, and the occasional campfire. That night my grandfather cooked dinner, we ate, and after a couple hours of Chess and TV binging, he went to bed. I was awake still, 9:25 PM, “I’ve got time”, I thought to myself. So I pulled out one of my comic books and laid in bed for a moment to read. My lamp started to flicker and, just like that, a power outage. Not uncommon in these parts, but it would almost certainly be awhile before it was back up again. And it was getting hot. Like, really hot. You see, something you need to know about my room was that there was a glass sliding door across from my bed. The curtains on it were to stay shut at night, as was the door itself, remember the old story about the Nightman? Yeah, my grandfather didn't play around about that door. 9:35 PM, at this point I was wildly uncomfortable. As much as it was hot, there was a cool breeze in the night. I was about to go against my own “don’t fuck around with the supernatural’ rule and I figured, “Why not? I can open the door a little bit to let some fresh air in.” I would later learn this to be a horrible mistake. I crept slowly out of bed and across the room to the door, moved the curtains out of the way and slid it open, I looked out into the night. There was a hill behind my grandfather's house, just small enough that you could see slightly over it into the woods behind it. The crickets chirped loudly, as the breeze came in through the door. I laid back in bed and my eyelids began to get heavy. By 9:55 PM, I was dead asleep, the breeze had finally cooled my room off. Here's the thing though, I forgot to shut the door back. 10:25 PM. I awoke to what sounded like..breathing? To this day I still don’t know what the noise was. That was the first thing I noticed, though It was off in the distance. The second thing I noticed was that the crickets stopped, and the wind had fallen silent. I was completely unnerved. You know there's a saying in nature that when a predator is lurking nearby, all possible prey will get incredibly silent in an attempt to not get noticed by it, whatever *it* is. Well that entered my mind at probably the worst possible time, which is right now, if you hadn’t noticed. And my mind was now racing with possibilities. Animal? Human? Or was it something else? “Can’t be.” I thought, “That stupid story is fake!” I whispered to myself. The breathing was loud, and heavy, like a large animal almost. I felt defenseless, “Was my grandfather right?” I thought. I could barely move, frozen in fear I laid there for what felt like hours. Just listening, listening to whatever was out by the treeline. I could feel its gaze on me. The foot of the bed was to the door, and I had the covers up far enough that I couldn’t see it.10:35 PM, the breathing stopped, it was silent, I prayed for god to save me now, to just get me out of this one, I wanted heaven to open up and take me right then and there, so I wouldn’t have to suffer whatever fate was waiting for me outside that door, it was to no avail though, and I remained in that bed. Then I heard walking. Incredibly slow walking, but walking nonetheless. When I say I almost died of a heart attack at that moment, I mean it. I don’t know what came over me, but I finally gained the courage to peek towards the door. And my heart sank into the depths of the earth.10:55 PM, he was there, right there. Standing at 9ft tall and hunched over, jaw slacked out, arms gangly and out-stretched. Slowly creeping towards me. It's like he knew I couldn’t do anything, like he knew I was so frozen in fear that I wouldn’t get up to shut the door. He was making this as terrifying as possible. It was almost as if he was walking in slow motion. My breathing sped up rapidly as I stared directly at him. Stumbling towards me, he was over the hill now, and stepping onto the back patio. He got to the door, and stopped. He just stopped. I was hyperventilating loudly out of fear. His arm was reaching into the room, and was almost over my bed. When suddenly, the power flicked back on. The lamp that had gone out earlier was back. The tall man let out a noise that will never leave my mind, a screech so loud it could wake the most tired working man from his slumber. And he recoiled. I guess the scream must’ve woken my grandfather from his sleep because he burst into my room with his rifle and started letting out shots. In an attempt to not get hit I dropped to the floor and hid under the bed, covered my ears and closed my eyes. I heard the tall man scream and run into the woods as my grandfather chased him deeper into the forest with his rifle. The noise slowly grew more distant as time passed, until it could not be heard anymore. I fell asleep under that bed, don’t ask, I don’t know how either. Maybe it was shock from the experience, maybe it was something else. But when I awoke the next morning, I couldn’t find my grandfather anywhere. The curtains on the sliding door were now tattered and torn from bullets. Glass was everywhere, and the door itself was still wide open. I waited in that house for the whole week, hoping for my grandfather to return from the woods. He never did. At some point in all of the time I was alone, I found a note my grandfather had written and hidden in his room, in preparation for this exact scenario. “To whomever this note concerns, if you are reading this, I may as well be dead. In the odd case the Nightman enters this home, I will chase it out and not return. I have waited and prepared for the day he tries to attack. I have seen him stalking at night, in the treeline, when I peek through the cracks in the curtains. He waits, he is waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. And when he does, I am ready. I will chase him out of the house and into the woods with all the ammunition I have. I will most likely not return from this, as almost every encounter with this.. thing..has led to death. He has terrorized my home for too long, and will no longer. I just hope I’m alone when he inevitably makes his move, no one else should have to witness this.” And it all made sense, I knew he wasn’t coming back now. I packed, and on the last day when my parents arrived, left. They asked where he was, and I told them, “He just walked out into the woods to find fuel for a fire tonight, said it would be a few hours.” They believed me. On our way out of the small valley community down the dirt road, I almost felt like I was being watched from the treeline. Every mile we came closer to the highway made the feeling of being watched get weaker and weaker until we were out. On the highway and headed home, finally. When I got back to my neighborhood and home that night I laid in bed and pondered the week, where my grandfather was, and what the f\*ck had attacked me in the cabin. I wouldn’t know until a few years later. It's 2023, as I’m writing this I am on my way back to Kentucky with a group of hunters, we all have had our encounters with this monster and seek to put an end to it. Weirdly enough, only a week ago in my dorm I began to have the same feeling, as if I was being watched. I knew the feeling immediately, it was back, and it knew we were coming. I would be lying if I said I’m not scared, but I will get revenge for what happened that night, and I will find out what happened to my grandfather, if it's the last thing I do on this god-forsaken earth. Wish me luck, goodbye and goodnight.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pwyog/there_was_something_in_the_treeline_that_night/

nosleep

telecastermoment

Stay away from the Beade ranch

I considered not going to my friend's housewarming party. If I hadn’t, I would have never known the horror that was sitting right up the road. I’d have never heard the strange story of the Beade ranch. (pronounced Bee-Dee) Another one of my friends got married. Another one bites the dust. It’s become more and more common in recent years. This time, it was my childhood best friend Tiffany. Tiff met Joe days after arriving on campus during her freshman year of college. They fell in love quickly. He seems like a great guy and I get along with him. Shortly after getting married, they found a place relatively closer to where Tiff works. She is extremely intelligent and has a great job. The commute was crazy though. The place was still almost an hour away from her work which was better than her previous commute. It’s about 2 hours from our hometown where I still live. It was a bit of a haul to go to their housewarming party, but I did tell her that I wouldn’t miss it for the world. The party was okay and I saw some old friends. I was happy to see that they were happy. They found a nice little place on a lake that they apparently got a great deal on. The party was run-of-the-mill and I didn’t care much about it other than hanging out with Tiff and Joe. I decided that I wouldn’t drink because I had to work the following morning and would need to drive home that night. I met their new friends who are locals of the area. Andy and Lauren were a friendly couple and they stayed to the end of the night. It was after most everyone had left that they told me the story of a family who lived nearby. A story I initially struggled to believe.. Everything was winding down and it was just me, Joe, Tiff, and their new friends from the area, Andy and Laura. We were all sitting in a circle, smoking pot and shootin the shit. “You don’t care at all what religion the president is?” Andy asked the group. “Why would I?” Tiff laughed. “It could be a religion that practices human sacrifice!” Andy laughed. “Okay. Okay, do you care if the president was gay?” “What reason would there be to care?” I laughed. “I couldn’t care less who the president wants to get with as long as they’re, ya know.. adult humans. Same way it doesn’t matter to me what anyone cares to eat.. as long as it isn’t human.” “Well, make sure to stay away from the old Beade ranch then,” Andy replied. “Why?” I asked. “Do they have gay presidents that eat people?” Andy was chuckling, but his face turned serious strangely quickly. Laura had a very serious look on her face. “You guys haven’t heard anything about the Beade ranch?” Andy asked Joe and Tiff. “Nothing. Why?” Tiff asked. “Shit, I'm surprised the realtor didn’t say something when you moved in here,” Laura said. “Oh god.. What is it?” Joe asked. “The Beade family,” Laura somberly replied. There was a weirdly tense moment after she said that. Neither Andy or Laura were laughing in the slightest. After a short pause, Laura told us the story. Fay Hollow, the town directly to the west of us just a few minutes down the road is all owned by this very strange and reclusive family. I think it’s considered a hamlet, because it’s not big enough to be considered a town. It’s basically just a big chunk of land with one old dirt road going through it. From all accounts, it’s not very good land either. It’s mostly all swamp with a small river that runs off from the lake. People who’ve been there say it’s just ugly.” “You’ve never been there?” Tiff asked. “We know better,” Andy replied. Joe and Tiff both looked a little spooked. Laura took a long sip of her drink and then continued. “Some years back, the town wanted to build a highway through some of this area. There were plans to build a factory here. They were planning on bringing in new businesses. Most of the people around here we’re all for it. Outside of the nice houses on the lakes, it’s historically been a very low income area. There just isn’t much nearby and there aren’t a lot of job opportunities.” “Yeah, my commute is like an hour now,” Tiff said. “Still worth it for a nice affordable house on the lake.” “For those of us who can afford it,” Laura said. “There are plenty who can’t. There were a lot more back then. The population used to be much higher here. Now it’s primarily summer homes or people who have really long commutes.” Tiff almost looked like she felt guilty or had taken some offense. Laura quickly got back to the story. “Most locals were excited about the highway and all of the new businesses that might come. Everyone who needed to sign off on it did, aside from the Beades. Locals who would need to move were offered much more than market value for their homes. Most of them felt like they won the lottery. The Beedes wouldn’t budge though. Their family had owned that chunk of land for generations. They dug in their heels. People were pissed.” Laura paused again to get another drink. “So let me guess, the townspeople raced over there with pitchforks and killed them?” Joe asked. “Now the ghosts haunt the land?” he laughed. “Was I close?” “No, but maybe they should have,” Andy replied in a serious tone. There was another short but awkward pause before Laura returned and sat back down. “So, what happened?” Tiff asked. “The story starts to get murky,” Laura replied. “There had already been plenty of rumors about the family. People claimed that they practiced incest. Some believed they were cannibals. These were all theories most likely due to their appearance and their decision to live in isolation. People might have heard about the disappearances, and let their imaginations fill in the blanks. Or maybe they were right about the Beades. What locals did know was that anyone who wandered onto their property were greeted with shotguns.” “So they were just like.. Florida people?” Joe laughed. Laura ignored the comment and continued.“The town continued surveying different spots in the area, hoping that they could still convince the Beades to sell. Two men, Thomas and Paul were sent to the hamlet to survey what they could as well as try again to talk to the family.” She continued as we all quietly listened. “Thomas has told his story. He checked out the area near the front of the land by the start of the dirt road that runs through the property and acts as a shortcut to the interstate. Paul went into the weeds and bushes so he wouldn’t be seen. He was going to check out the swamp. Before long, Thomas heard thrashing followed by gunshots alongside terrible screams..” “What happened to Paul?” Tiff asked. “No one knows,” Laura replied. “Thomas ran out of there and promptly called the cops. They found nothing. No sign of Paul at all. He’s still considered missing and presumed dead. Thomas has theorized that Paul had been cannibalized.. They could never prove it though.. No evidence. Since then, people steer clear of Fay Hollow and the Beede family.” “Maybe a bear got him,” Joe said. “Maybe,” Laura replied. “There were others though. Some are on record as missing. Some are just stories. But it seems like every few years, someone goes missing near the Beade ranch. It’s enough to make locals steer clear.” “Is it really a shortcut to the interstate?” I asked. “It’s a straight shot,” Andy said. “The dirt road ends about a mile from the on ramp to 86. It would seriously take at least 45 minutes less to get there than the main roads. That’s why they wanted to build the highway.” I laughed. “People really won’t take that road because they’re afraid of this family?” “People don’t wanna get shot,” Laura replied. “That, or something worse. The stories could have been exaggerated, but the disappearances are very real.” “What keeps random people driving through from going down that road?” I asked. “The turn to the road is at the end of a road with a dead end sign at the entrance. There isn’t a reason for most people to go down there. There’s also no trespassing and posted signs everywhere leading to it. I had friends who went down there and took pictures. It’s really creepy. The dirt road doesn’t fully show up in the maps either so most people don’t know that it goes to the interstate if they’re not from here,” Laura replied. “Your friends went to the ranch?” Joe asked. “Just to the edge of the road,” Laura replied. “They knew not to go any further, not to trespass. Kids at school called it the bleedy ranch.” “Sounds like those Bleedys stand their ground!” Joe laughed. “Something like that,” Laura quietly replied. I was very skeptical. I asked them, “Have you guys ever seen this family?” “Just the youngest one,” Andy replied. “She used to come in about once a week when I was workin at the gas station up the road. Bought a lot of gas. She’s actually pretty cute, in an Amish sort of way.” “That’s messed up,” Laura said, looking mildly irritated. “Not as cute as you!” Andy laughed. “No, I’m talking about how people think she might have been kidnapped. The Beades don’t associate with anyone outside of their family and she sure doesn’t look inbred. Some people think she was kidnapped when she was a baby and raised as a Beade.” “I don’t doubt it,” Andy replied. The topic of conversation changed shortly after that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this place. Could I really cut 45 minutes off of my drive home? It’s such a long boring drive. It was crazy to me that people would avoid a shortcut like that just because they’ve seen too many scary movies. About a half hour later, I knew that I needed to leave. I was already looking at a night of very little sleep. I had an important meeting and presentation at work in the morning. Joe and Tiff tried to talk me into staying, but I simply couldn’t. Hooray for work.. As I reached the top of their long driveway, I stopped for a moment and thought about Fay Hollow. They warned me not to take the shortcut, but they didn’t have a long drive ahead of them. I looked it up in maps on my phone. Laura was right about only half the road showing up on there. Looking at the map though, it didn’t seem like there was any logical place for it to end aside from where they said it did. My main concern was getting to the end of the road and finding out it didn’t actually come out by the interstate. I figured that if the road was a dead end, it would only add an extra 20 minutes or so to my trip. If I had to drive the long way, I wasn’t gonna get any sleep either way. I decided to opt for the shortcut. I followed the map to the road with a dead end sign at the entrance. I started slowly driving down it. It wasn't long before I started seeing no trespassing signs and posted signs on the trees. There weren’t any houses on this road and it seemed to lead straight into a swamp. I got all the way to the end before I saw the turn to “Beade road”. The turn was somewhat hidden by weeds and bushes. The cement ended and the dirt road was tough to see in the dark at first. There was a gate, but I could see from the car that it wasn’t locked. The gate and surrounding trees were absolutely covered and no trespassing signs. I have to admit that I was a little creeped out. The excessive amount of signs in front of the dark dirt road made me slightly uneasy. As did seeing the sign for Beade road. This means that the family isn’t fictional. I considered it for a minute and decided that the creepiness of the road itself is probably where these stories come from. I remember being a kid and assuming any creepy looking, boarded up, or rundown house must be haunted. Sometimes our imagination gets the better of us. Not tonight though. I had come this far and I was taking this shortcut. I got out and walked over to the gate. It was an old rusty x shaped gate, just big enough to prevent cars from getting through. It creaked loudly as I swung it open. The sound echoed through the eerily quiet night. I admitted to myself that I was a little creeped out, but I still didn’t believe Laura’s stories. Creepy looking places spawn creepy stories. Stereotypes can lead to urban myths. Stereotypes like the Beades being seen as inbred cannibal rednecks because they live in relative isolation. These are the things I was telling myself as I started driving down the dark dirt road. I kept my speed low because of the wooded areas on each side of the road. The last thing I needed was to hit a deer. The road eventually turned slightly around a bend, and that’s when I saw the lights in the distance. I assumed it had to be in their house. Andy and Laura said it was the only one along the road or inside the tiny hamlet. I crept slowly down the road. The lights were growing bigger but I still couldn’t see the house. I started hearing a noise that I eventually recognized as the sound of a generator. These people really were off the grid. I started wondering where they got the money for gas to power the generator, where they got money for food, supplies, ect. Laura would likely say that they stole it from their many victims.. while I still didn’t believe that, the thought was stuck in my head. I admit that I was feeling more nervous as I got closer to the house. I could see a spot ahead where the weeds and trees opened up. I was almost to the house and I was about to be visible to anyone who might be there. I had freaked myself out a little bit more than I realized before, so I decided to pick up my speed as I was passing the house. I figured that even if they were the type to shoot anyone they saw on their property, I could get past the house before they could even grab their shotguns. I sped up a little as I got to a point where I could be seen from the house. I saw that there was lights on, but didn’t spot anyone outside or through the windows. The house was a little shabby, but honestly not much worse looking than my last place. It could use a paint job, but there are worse looking houses in the town I live in. Seeing the house calmed my nerves a bit. It wasn’t as spooky as what I built up in my head. Still spooky, just not as spooky as I imagined. I still wanted to get past it and out of sight quickly. I started to pass the house and looked ahead down the long dirt road where the opening in the trees closed up and it was almost too dark to see right in front of you. I pressed the gas a little harder as I passed, then abruptly I felt the steering tighten and the car slow. I had popped a tire.. This is what I like to call an “of course” moment. I quickly hopped out to check the damage. My front right tire was flat. I momentarily considered driving on it at least to the end of the dirt road. Then I thought about it and decided that I might let Laura’s story creep me out a bit, but I’m not gonna destroy my rim because of it. I was practically right in front of the house. I might’ve gotten 10 or 15 feet past it, but the light from the porch made me clearly visible to anyone inside. I looked toward the house regularly as I popped the trunk and grabbed the spare tire. I still hadn’t seen any people, but there were definitely lights on inside.I thought that maybe I should call someone, but as I looked at my phone I saw that I had no service. Of course not. I was in a swamp in the middle of nowhere. As I was rolling the tire from the trunk to the front of the car, I spotted something strange on the ground. I used the light from my phone to get a closer look. I felt a chill when I realized what it was.. It was a small piece of wood with several nails driven through it. The nails were straight through and unbent, sticking straight up. My tolerance for coincidence was fading. It looked like a man made item, specifically put there to pop someone’s tires.. I shined my phone's flashlight a little further up the dirt road and noticed another one, then another, then another.. I walked maybe 20 feet ahead and found more than a dozen of these little spike strips, a minefield of pointy objects. The feeling of panic started rapidly growing. I’m not sure if the plan was to jump in the car and drive it on a flat or if I was going to try to change it as quickly as humanly possible. It didn’t matter though.. When I turned around and looked back toward the house, I noticed a man coming from the house toward me. I could just see his silhouette as he went from walking to running. I quickly realized that he was wielding something and he started to yell. Panic immediately took over.. I had idiotically walked too far from my car, so I turned and started running further down the road. I didn’t know why they were laying down homemade spike strips and I didn’t want to find out. To me, everything else could’ve been chalked up to coincidence. Not the spike strips though.. As I started to run, I could hear the man yelling but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. My heart was racing and I had no idea where I was going or what I was planning to do. When I looked back, I saw a second man coming out of the house. He was standing directly in the porch light for a moment and I could see clearly that he was holding a rifle. He yelled as well but I couldn’t make it out. Then he also started running toward me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I felt stupid for taking the shortcut despite a direct warning not to. I could already feel my sides hurting. I was running short of breath. I had no plan. All I could do was run and hope that the men chasing me either gave up or lost track of me. I considered cutting into the swamp, but I figured they probably knew their way through it better than me and it would only slow me down. I felt helpless. I could hear them continuing to yell and scream as I started to feel like I couldn’t run anymore. The only word I could make out was “stop”. At this point, I wasn’t looking back to see if they were gaining on me. I was just trying to force myself to keep running. I tried to fight through the cramps, shortness of breath, sore legs, and dizzy feeling. Then I abruptly felt a sharp pounding pain in each side of my rib cage. I was stopped dead in my tracks as my head and arms flew forward while the rest of my body stopped.. momentarily. It was dark and I couldn’t tell what was happening at first. I could only focus on the searing pain I felt. I realized that something was wrapped around my torso. It felt like marble when I touched it. I could barely see it in the dark and in the frenzy, but I could tell that it was large. The pain intensified as I was lifted off of the ground. Whatever had a hold of me flailed me around more than 10 feet off of the ground. I could see the two men had made it almost to me and stopped. The man with the gun began firing shots. I couldn’t see what he was shooting at as I was being thrashed around in the dark. After he fired about three shots, I was thrown to the ground. The one man was throwing rocks and other random objects. I looked up and saw what had grabbed me. It was unbelievable.. I tried to crawl back despite a few likely broken ribs. I looked up to see a massive humanoid creature. It must have been 25 feet tall. It was tough to tell as it was standing in the swamp water. It had a long, skinny body and lanky arms with a kind of claw at the end of each. The claws were like ant mandibles that connected at the tip rather than fitting flush when closed. It was one of those claws that it had grabbed me with. I’m lucky the claw didn’t close flush, because I wouldn’t be here to tell the story if it had. I continued slowly crawling backward as the two men fought off the creature. As the man with the gun tried to line up a shot, the other flashed a light at the creature. This was the clearest I was able to see it. It had two very large eyes that seemed to extend halfway around its oval shaped head. It’s skin was a dark gray or black. It’s head was more of a grayish blue. The eyes were black with a fluorescent, thin blue ring around the edges. Everything happened so fast. The man with the gun told the other guy to try and distract the creature with the light as he reloaded. The man flashed the light in the creature's face, then pointed it toward the trees hoping to grab its attention. It didn’t work.. The next few moments are seared into my brain.. I was first distracted by a young woman yelling and running toward us from the house. I continued dragging myself in terror before I looked back. The man with the rifle was attempting to reload when the creature spiked down through his torso with one of the large claws. It pierced straight through him and into the ground underneath.. The creature quickly turned its attention toward the guy with the light. He started to turn and run before the creature grabbed him the same way it had grabbed me. It swung him back and forth before slamming him into a tree. I screamed in horror as the creature then picked up his lifeless body and pulled it toward its face. It’s mouth opened like a flap, revealing a circular mouth filled with multiple spiraling rows of teeth. It pulled the lifeless man close. Then it’s mouth seemed to extend out a few feet in a bizarre fashion. It devoured the man in what felt like less than a minute. The woman made her way to me and helped me to my feet. The creature picked up the other man’s body and prepared to eat him as well. The woman helped me walk toward the house. She told me that the creature was injured, and wouldn’t chase after us. I didn’t know if she was just saying that to calm me down though. When it felt like we were at a remotely safe distance, I had to stop for a moment. I puked on the ground next to me as I tried to process what I had just witnessed. I forced myself to continue walking with the aid of the woman and we made it into the house. I couldn’t catch my breath. I was sobbing. She was holding it together much better than I was. It took a minute for me to realize that I had just unintentionally gotten two of her family members killed.. I started apologizing profusely despite not knowing exactly what had happened. She continuously said “relax” and “it’s not your fault”. I babbled in my panic. I screamed, “they were trying to help me! It’s my fault!” The young woman introduced herself as Lily. She was a pretty girl probably in her mid 20s wearing old timey looking clothes. She assured me that she didn’t believe it was my fault. I had no way of knowing what was lurking down that road. I still felt an insurmountable amount of guilt. I wanted to save an hour or so on my drive.. so I trespassed on clearly posted property. She said that we would talk once I calmed down. She got me a glass of water and a few painkillers for my ribs. I was cut open on each side but the cuts weren’t too deep. I would find out later I had multiple cracked and bruised ribs. The physical pain was so far in the back of my mind though. I felt that I had gotten two men killed. I was still trying to understand what that thing was. Lily was very pleasant to me. She was very kind, especially considering the circumstances. It turned out that the two men were her uncles. I again apologized upon learning that, but she again told me that I wasn’t at fault. “We’ve always known the risks of living here,” she said. “You couldn’t have known. They also could have done a better job of warning you. If someone was chasing me with a shotgun and screaming, I would’ve run too.” “What is that thing?” I asked. “How long has it been there?” “It’s been there longer than I’ve been alive,” Lily replied. “It saved my granny years ago when she was in trouble. She believed that she had a bond with it. Granny passed last year. She bought this land years ago after discovering the creature. She did everything she could to deter anyone from coming here. She never wanted to report it to any agency though. She felt that it had just as much of a right to live as we do. She claimed that it wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, but would protect itself if it felt threatened.” I wanted to ask follow up questions, but I sat quietly and listened to Lily.“ We have never known if the creature is a new species, an experiment of some sort, or even an alien. We know that it’s been injured for years and doesn’t move far from its spot. It seems to need the water to survive like a fish. It manages to get everything it needs from the swamp. We give it treats here in there and our leftovers, but it seems to survive just fine without us. It has been for over 40 years.” “That’s why your family didn’t sign off on the highway?” “Yes,” she replied. “The creature saved granny, and she knew it would be killed and most likely experimented on if she told anyone about it. Granny was nervous about people anyway so it was easier to just keep it a secret. I’ve always known the risks. My uncles did too,” “I’m so so sorry..” I repeated again. “Don’t be,” she softly replied. “Just relax and get some rest. I’ll answer all your questions in the morning.” “Thankyou” “Would you like to watch a movie?” She asked. I was a little surprised they had a TV, let alone movies. “Yes, we have movies,” Lily laughed. She popped in Jurassic Park and I tried to relax as the painkillers started to kick in. She watched the movie with me for a while before heading to bed herself shortly before Dennis steals the dinosaur embryos.. I eventually was able to fall asleep and slept soundly until the morning. It wasn’t before I looked out the window about 50 times, trying to catch a glimpse of the creature again. The morning came and I felt as though I'd been hit by a train. I could smell bacon and realized that Lily had cooked breakfast. I was grateful, but still uncomfortable being treated so nicely by someone whose family members I essentially got killed. I hoped for a brief moment that it had all been a dream.. I thought about the work meeting and presentation that I was missing, but I couldn’t even begin to force myself to care. Learning of the existence of this creature is so mind blowing that going to work felt so insignificant. I saw another glass of water and another painkiller on the stand and promptly took it. I then got up, ready to go change my tire. Lily walked into the living room. She insisted that I eat breakfast before I go. I agreed with little resistance. I had already missed work. Once I get cell service I’ll probably have 30 missed calls. It’s tough to care much about that though. I sat down at the kitchen table with Lily. I wanted to ask more questions about the creature, but I wasn’t sure if it was a sore subject that I should avoid. I didn’t have to ask though. “It isn’t a vengeful creature,” she said abruptly. “Do you feel safe living near it?” I asked. “It’s obviously dangerous.” “It’s just an animal like the rest of us,” she replied. “ Maybe it’s something leftover from a forgotten era. Maybe it’s something new. It keeps to itself unless someone bothers it. It protects itself like anyone else would. Who are we to decide what gets to live or die? Granny hated hubris, and hubris is a very human trait. Humans kill rodents and pests because they’re a nuisance. We kill animals for food or even sport. We cage anything that might be a threat to us. Maybe we aren’t meant to be the dominant species anymore. Maybe those swamp creatures are.” It may have been the pain medication talking, but I found myself agreeing with her. “Do you care about that thing?” I asked. “I care about granny, and she cared about it.” She softly replied. “Granny felt bad about stopping the highway from being built. It isn’t fair to stop progress to protect our own comfort. We had a good run, but maybe the world isn’t ours anymore..” We finished breakfast and I went outside to change my tire. I walked up to my car to find that my tire was already changed. Of course it was. The “inbred cannibal” changed it for me.. The same one who’s family tried to stop me from walking into certain death.. who died to save me.. I felt like I owed Lily so much. She’s all alone now because of me. Well, I guess not ALL alone.. I knew that I wouldn’t report seeing the creature. Maybe I’ll tell the story to people who won’t take it seriously anyway, but I won’t call the authorities. I owe her that much. She walked out the front door and I thanked her for helping me yet again by changing my tire. I thanked her again for everything she had done for me, for forgiving me.. “Are you sure you’re comfortable being alone here?” I asked. “The creature isn’t going to harm me. It was simply protecting itself, and protecting it’s own.” She said. “Yeah.. Wait. What do you mean by that?” I asked, confused. Lily went inside for a moment. When she returned, she had a photograph. I looked at it and the hairs on my neck stood up.. I asked her, “Are those.. eggs?” Lily smiled from ear to ear and said, “She’s gonna be a mama!” I didn’t know how to respond. I initially tried burying the thought in the back of my mind. I gave Lily a hug and we said our goodbyes. I started driving back the way I came along the dirt road, now content to go the long way. It probably takes hundreds of years for those creatures to grow to adulthood.. She said that one had been there for decades. I won’t even be aware of them in my lifetime.. At least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.. I reached the end of the dirt road. I stopped and looked back for a minute, blown away by the experience, terrified of what’s to come. My phone started going off as I reached cell service. I’m gonna get fired.. It’s likely that no one will believe my story and maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s just the way things are meant to be. People will likely continue spreading rumors about the inbred cannibals living in the swamp.. Doesn’t really matter though. What matters is to heed the warning when someone tells you to “Stay the fuck away from the Beade ranch!”

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pn8lg/stay_away_from_the_beade_ranch/

nosleep

Spaghetti_Mercury

The Strange Gunshots of Logan County

This autumn, a couple of work friends are going deer hunting. It’s been the talk of the office for two months straight. It became the conversational watering hole, and everyone who don’t take part are left to dry out in the sun. Hell, even Vicky, the receptionist, is coming along. I think she’s going mostly for the smores. But I’m not going. I have a difficult history with hunting, and not a lot of people know about it. I don’t like to talk openly about it, since it happened so long ago, and I hate being the guy who keeps talking about his past. Trauma or not, I’ve had it buried in the back of my mind for years. But now that all this talk is circling around the office, it made me want to put to paper what actually happened. ​ It was two months ahead of my 15th birthday. My dad was taking me hunting in a state park over in Logan county, West Virginia. I had little to no idea what was going on, I just knew I had to come along and try out new boots, a hat, a vest, the whole shebang. He took me to target practice a couple of sessions, but we ended up spending most of our time discussing gun safety. I was very anti-gun back then, and I suppose I still am; but for different reasons. Still, I wanted to spend time with him. Dad had been sick on and off work for a long time following an accident, and he’d just started to properly recover. This would be our first outing in almost two years, and the whole family was excited for it. Again; for different reasons. ​ It was an early September morning when we set out. Mom waved goodbye from the kitchen window. Dad had packed enough stuff to cover us for a whole week, but we were only going away for the weekend. We pulled into a drive-through, got some lunch, and met up with his hunting buddies. There was Cisco – a man in his late 50’s. Mostly worked in accounting and had no concept of how to speak at an appropriate volume. Then there was Abe. He was in his mid-40’s, and he had some relation to Cisco, but I never really understood the nature of it. I think Cisco was married to his older sister. Finally, there was Hugo. He was new at dad’s job and just kinda wanted to belong somewhere. Guy was quiet as a mouse and had this intense raccoon-like face. ​ It was a long trip. I was on co-pilot duty, meaning I were to respond to any texts and provide snacks to the driver. And, of course, in charge of keeping the music going. It was exactly what I wanted out of that trip. The hunting itself wasn’t that important, it was nice to just see him happy again. This was his element; something he’d done with his dad, and that he was now doing with me. We were the last to arrive. Cisco and Abe had packed enough for a small company of soldiers, while Hugo barely had anything at all. Dad parked, shut the music off, and from that point on it was all business. I wasn’t that amped about it. We double-checked our equipment and set out due west. Cisco and Abe took point, with the rest of us following in a line. ​ I zoned out for most of it, to be honest. I drowned myself in music and texting. Dad was busy talking to his hunting buddies, and Hugo wasn’t much company anyway. We went deeper and deeper into the park. I didn’t even realize until three hours in that I didn’t have the slightest idea of where we were. We’d followed so many off-paths that I could’ve ended up anywhere. It was somewhere around lunch when we decided to make camp. My feet were already sore from the new boots. Cisco gathered rocks for the campfire, while dad and Abe started to plot out where to go next. It was decided that we were splitting up in teams of two. I was going with my dad, Abe went with Hugo, and Cisco went on his own. He was by far the most experienced of us, and we all knew that there’d be nothing caught if he went with someone in a duo. The man just couldn’t control his voice. I jumped every time he laughed. ​ While we didn’t do any actual hunting that afternoon, we spent some time just getting to know the area. I had no idea what to look for, but dad kept pointing at things and telling me how close we were, and how these were “telltale signs”. I couldn’t really follow, but I tried to be supportive. I hadn’t seen him enthused about something in a long time. We ended up looking across a clearing somewhere around dinner time. Dad had this can of Vienna sausages that we shared. On the far side of the field was a thin stream running along the tall grass. “That’s where we’ll spot ‘em in the morning,” he said. “Guaranteed.” ​ We spent the rest of the day trekking along the edges of the field, trying to find a good spot. We ended up making a dig on the eastern side so we wouldn’t get the morning sun in our eyes. We made a wind shelter from pine branches and moss, leaving space for both of us, shoulder-to-shoulder. Heading back to camp, we went through our checklist of gun safety protocols again. And again. And again. As we did, there was a loud bang, somewhere off in the distance. We both stopped. We knew the others had brought their guns along, but had they already found something? Improbable. Dad put a hand on my chest, signaling me to stop. “Could be others,” he said. “Gotta stay on your toes.” ​ We all met up at base camp. Dad went around asking the others which one was the mysterious shooter, but no one fessed up. It could’ve been anyone, really. Abe and Hugo had split up to check different areas, and Cisco was off on his own. I figured it was Hugo that fired a shot accidentally and didn’t want to make a scene. He kind of had the look of it. At night, they all shared some hunting stories. Mostly Cisco. He went on and on about hunting alligators from a river boat. How we wouldn’t “believe the size” of those things, and how they were big enough to swallow a man’s torso in a single bite. When that stopped impressing us, he went on to talk about sport fishing Atlantic yellowfin tuna. “Fourteen hundred pounds!” he chuckled. “Fourteen hundred goddamn pounds. You could feel the weight of the thing just standing next to it.” I turned in early that night. Dad got me my own tent, so I spent most of my time watching stuff on my cellphone. We had chargers and stuff, solar, but I hadn’t bothered to unpack it. Once the batteries ran out, I just lay there on my back, waiting for sleep to come. ​ It was a shitty and surface-level sleep, at best. I’d accidentally set the tent up on some kind of root, leaving me with a bruise on my right shoulder. There was also the constant buzzing of some kind of wasp right next to my head. The thing didn’t get through the tent, but by God, it really tried. We got up just before sunrise. It felt like I’d just barely shut my eyes, but dad was at the top of his game. He was bouncing between the tents, humming, and double-checking not only his own equipment; but everyone else’s. That whole morning was basically just my dad trying to get us excited. Hell, even Cisco was tired enough to shut up for a few minutes. We had breakfast, went over our plans, and got into our gear. It was game time, and the sun wasn’t even up yet. ​ I was half-asleep all the way out there. I almost tripped twice, but dad pressed on. He ping-ponged between us hurrying up and staying quiet. It was weird seeing him doing all the talking; it was usually the other way around back home. We got to our makeshift shelter and made ourselves comfortable. Dad kept talking about the direction of the wind and various techniques he swore he’d employed. I was trying to pay attention, but I kept nodding off. He didn’t seem to mind. I think he was just happy to be there. I don’t know how long we waited. After a while, as things turned quiet, I couldn’t really tell the time anymore. It all sort of blended together. ​ At some point, dad elbowed me. And there they were. Six of them in total; three does, two yearlings, and a buck. All strolling into the middle of the field without a care in the world. Dad nodded at me and eyed the rifle. “You’re up.” ​ It was a heavy lever-action brush gun. We had about 55-60 yards distance, and an unobstructed view. I was nervous though; nervous as all hell. We’d practiced plenty, but this was different. I could imagine them scattering to the wind, and our one shot at this blowing up in our face. Dad didn’t seem to care though, but I wanted to make him proud. I brought the gun out and rested my head, letting the whole iron sight fill my view. I felt the weight of the trigger as I tempted it. “Inhale. Exhale. You got this,” he whispered. ​ Then, a gunshot. And it wasn’t mine. ​ The deer thundered off into the woods. Dad just lay there, slack jawed. There was no way to tell where it’d come from, but it was close. Maybe someone had taken a shot at the same deer as us. We looked across the field for someone to stand up or show themselves, but there was nothing out there. Dad put a hand on my shoulder. “That’s not on you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what the hell that was.” ​ We tried to reach the others through our walkie-talkies. Cisco reported in first. Apparently, he’d heard the same thing as us, but from a far different angle. Hugo reported in too, telling us the shot had been close by from his angle. Finally, we waited for Abe. But nothing came through. We waited, listening to the static. Cisco interjected with the occasional “Abe, check-in”, but we got nothing in response. “Hugo, where the fuck are you?” growled Cisco. “You were supposed to partner up!” “I-I’m, uh… south. We took the cliffside trail, the one with-“ “Then where the fuck is he?!” “He went ahead, he thought he heard-“ “Just answer the fucking question!” Dad shot me a concerned, almost apologetic look. Cisco was always loud, but this was another level. ​ Hugo met up with us over at the southern trail. We followed it for a good 45 minutes, calling out to Abe as we went. The quiet stutter of the walkie-talkie felt like getting poked by an icicle. It started to dawn on me that this might turn from a hunting trip to a rescue mission. “We should, uh… get the rangers,” said Hugo. “It’s been a while. He could be-“ “He probably ran out of batteries,” said dad. “But yeah, let’s…. keep that in mind.” “Batteries last for days,” scoffed Cisco. “Ain’t no way the fucker’d forget that.” He had a point. They’d been over their equipment two-three times just that morning. Unlikely at best. ​ We all moved up the trail, stepping over fallen trees and pressing trough dry undergrowth. As the forest breathed, we could see further and further up ahead. It was quiet. Too quiet, even. Like something had scared off the birds. “Where’d he go?” Cisco whispered. “What direction?” “He, uh… should’ve kept going south, I guess.” “You guess, huh?” sighed Cisco. “Fucking useless.” ​ We spread out for an impromptu search. Not a lot, but enough for us all to cover some ground. We still had eye contact with each other. Dad asked me to stay close, but I wanted to help, so I took the space in the middle. Everyone called out to Abe, not caring about the deer or other wildlife we spooked along the way. But apart from a few strange red birds perching on a nearby pine, there was nothing around to spook. And the birds didn’t seem to care about either of us. After a while, it didn’t even sound like a name anymore. It just became this call, this noise. Abe, Abe, Abe. ​ Then I saw something. I thought was a log at first. But it wasn’t. ​ As I got closer, I was met with Abe’s eyes looking up at me. They didn’t blink. It looked like he’d just tripped and was about to get up, but he wasn’t moving. He had his neck at a weird angle, like he was trying to brush something off his ear with his shoulder. Then I noticed the bullet wound – straight through the heart. I’d never seen one before. Not on anything living. Not like this. ​ To this day, I can’t stop thinking about that first second when I realized what I was looking at. The absolute chilling panic running up through my lungs, causing my words to freeze in my throat. I just stopped and stared at him, watching the unmoving eyes, and how they seemed to find at me every angle. I didn’t realize I’d stopped yelling his name. Now I was just… screaming. ​ The others rushed over. Dad put his hand over my eyes, turning me away. I could still see Abe’s face behind my eyes. Hugo started making this wailing noise, and Cisco just turned deathly quiet. I couldn’t make out their voices individually anymore; it was all deafened by those dead eyes looking back from the dark. ​ Cisco immediately turned to Hugo, taking his rifle away. Hugo let go of it like it was on fire. Cisco tore out the magazine, only to find it unused. When it finally dawned on Hugo what he was doing, I could hear his voice sink into his belly. “You… you think I-“ “You got spare rounds?” asked Cisco. “I wouldn’t-“ “Show me!” Hugo held out a small box of ammunition, dropping half of them in the moss. This just pissed Cisco off even more; he was in no state of mind to do any counting. ​ Dad tried to call 911 but couldn’t get through. We were too remote, and his phone was about a decade old. He wanted to try mine, but I’d forgotten to charge it from the night before. Finally, Hugo gave up his phone and stepped back, holding up his hands like he was being arrested. Cisco was losing his mind, stomping back and forth, growing louder and louder with every step. Dad re-dialed 911 and got a signal through but could barely contain himself. As soon as that operator picked up, it was like all his words just dropped off the face of the earth. ​ Then - another gunshot. Dad pulled me down into the grass. Hugo dove behind a tree, and Cisco went prone behind a stump. As the sound echoed through the trees, we all held our breaths. Dad grabbed my face, and I kept reassuring him that I was okay. At the same time, I was reassuring myself. Nothing came of it. We were all fine. Dad looked around for the phone, listening for the voice of the operator asking us to stay on the line. We scanned the treeline, but saw no movement. Dad reached for the phone. ​ Another gunshot. Closer, this time. Dad pulled his hand back and held me tight. I could hear his heartbeat through his chest, pounding like a hammer. “We spread out!” called Cisco. “We… we spread out and call for help!” “What the fuck are you talking about?!” yelled Hugo back. “I’m not moving!” “Like hell you aren’t! On my count!” ​ Dad propped himself up on one knee and urged me to do the same. He’d be facing the way the bullets came, shielding me, just in case. There was no time for me to object. Cisco counted down from five. It was so hyper-focused that I forgot to breathe, making my heart race before we even started. As the countdown ended, we all spread to the wind. Dad and I burst into a sprint towards base camp, while Hugo went north. Cisco headed south, further up the hills. We kept our heads low, praying to God we wouldn’t trip on anything. I have never, ever, ran that fast in my entire life. Just thinking about it elevates my blood pressure. We just kept going, and going, and going. Down a trail, past a landmark stone, and beyond. I only had a vague idea of where we even were at that point, but I didn’t stop to think. ​ Somewhere in the distance, I kept hearing gunshots. Not a lot, but every so often. And with each one, my heart skipped a beat, making my body retract like a winding spring. ​ As we stopped to catch our breaths, dad got out the walkie-talkie. “You see him?!” he wheezed. “Does anyone see him?!” “No!” cried Hugo back. “I-I… I can’t see anything!” “Cisco, you see him?” Silence. “Cisco,” dad repeated. Again, silence. “Cisco?” ​ We made our way back to camp. We figured we could use my solar charger to get my phone up and running and try to call for help again. It was still early in the day, but it was ridiculously easy to get lost even with clear weather. I had a general heading, but that was about it. We took it real slow. Crouching between trees in-between outright sprints. We kept our heads low, listened, and watched for birds taking flight. All the while, I couldn’t help but to feel like something was up. If there was someone else moving out there, we would’ve heard them by then. Sound travelled far, especially in the open areas. When we finally made it back to base camp, I dove into my tent. I fumbled out the solar charger, plugged it in, and set it up outside. Dad moved it so it wouldn’t be so easy to hit with a stray bullet. ​ We hunkered down behind one of the tents. We didn’t move a muscle. My body cramped from staying so still, but I didn’t want to move despite the pain. My eyes watered from not blinking, and I could feel my tongue going dry with every ragged breath. “It’s all about the waiting,” dad whispered. “Just like hunting.” ​ It must’ve been close to lunchtime when my phone lit up with a mild yellow light. It had about 30% battery charge, but it looked like the weather was about to change. There’d been a few clouds on the horizon, and dad had warned us about rain. Hell, half our camp was made to be waterproof just in case. A bad enough cloud cover would mean we’d be wasting time waiting for nothing. While dad phoned 911, I stuck to the walkie. I tried a few “hellos”, but I got nothing in response. The thought hit me that they might be in hiding. If so, my voice might give them away. Abe’s face flashed before my eyes as I put the walkie down, waiting for someone to reach back from the other side. Dad tried his best to explain our position. “Yeah, we… we got an active shooter,” he said. “I don’t know! I don’t know, maybe… maybe one, maybe two, just west of-“ Dad put the rifle down and held the phone to his ear – trying his best to work out on a map exactly where we’d been at. I couldn’t help but to stare at the rifle. There might be one of those things hunting us right now, and we’d have no idea of knowing. Could have a clear shot. Could be anywhere. ​ He probably stayed on for ten maybe twenty minutes, before the battery ran dry. It was the first time I heard him swear uncontrollably. He was so frustrated that he could barely contain it, kicking a fold-up chair into the burned-out fire. “They told us to get moving, meet them half-way,” he spat. “Don’t bring anything. We’ll get it back later.” He grabbed the rifle, and we promptly left. ​ We got turned around a couple times when the rain came. Things started to look the same, and we had no proper source of light. We kept trying to head in a straight line, but it became painfully apparent that we’d messed up somewhere around the half-hour mark. We’d veered off track and might just be heading further into the park. We tried to backtrack but couldn’t find any of the landmarks. There was supposed to be a tall rock along the path, but there wasn’t. We must’ve taken a wrong branching path. I hadn’t really paid attention when we first got there, so I had to rely entirely on dad to find his way forward. And dad was not doing okay. ​ It was pouring down, far worse than anticipated. At one point, it felt like it was raining sideways. I had to curl my hands up into my armpits to keep warm, and I kept getting slapped by branches as we pushed forward. Every now and then, we’d stop, only to turn back and try again. We’d been out for nearly two hours when my head snapped back to attention. In the distance, another gunshot. I could barely make it out in the rain, but there was a clang to it that just cut straight to my ear canal. There was something primal to it, like my hearing was tuned to catch it. ​ Then, another. Closer. ​ I dropped to the ground while dad took cover behind a tree. Before he got a chance to ask, I yelled back that I was okay. I had to repeat myself three times before I saw him visibly relax, his shoulders slumping against the tree. “Stay down!” he yelled back. “I think I saw something!” I tried to see what he was looking at, but he yelled at me to stay still the moment I moved. He refused to have any part of me exposed to gunfire, no matter what. And yet, I think I saw something. Movement, further down the treeline. ​ He crouched down and rested the gun on a branch for support. I could hear him trying to control his breathing, taking longer and longer breaths. He squinted through the iron sights, counting to himself as he did. I kept my head down, waiting for the next shot to ring out. I don’t know how long we stood there. Ten seconds, ten minutes – it could’ve been either. But all we heard was rain and crackling branches, and all we saw was pine. I kept looking at my dad. He was the only thing I could see in that angle. He kept staring straight ahead, waiting with bated breath. ​ Then, I saw something. Something *fast*. ​ “Duck!” I shouted. “Dad, there’s-“ ​ I haven’t seen anything like it ever since. It was tall and had this strange green tint to it. Bipedal, but not like a person. At least 6’7. Wide-set legs, with long arms that scraped across the forest floor. A single finger on its right hand was longer than my entire forearm. Its head had a shape like a thorn bush, with little blinking appendages all along what should be the scalp. It twitched forward, and as it did, the long finger snapped straight through the tree where dad was taking cover; causing another sound of gunfire to rattle through us. This one right next to us, deafening me. I saw something explode out of the other side of the tree as the force burst straight through the trunk; blasting dad’s face with something akin to shrapnel. He threw himself backwards, covering his bleeding face, and dropping the rifle. ​ It circled around him in a sort of crab walk, raising its long finger like a scorpion’s tail. I grabbed the rifle, swung it around, and did as I’d been instructed. Down the iron sight. Exhale. ​ This time, I didn’t hesitate, and as a real gunshot rung out, the creature reeled back. Every little white slit along its head opening and closing, blinking in unison. It was gone in an instant, scrambling on all fours to get away. I think I hit it in the shoulder, revealing something bright green, like a snapped twig. ​ Dad propped himself up against the tree as I swung the rifle around; releasing the spent cartridge with two clicks. I was breathing steady, calm, but it felt like my entire body was sweating all at once. I could feel this intense heat under my clothes, despite the cooling rain. “Hold it steady,” he said. “Finger on the trigger.” He’d gotten something in his eye. He couldn’t see shit. It was up to me. ​ Then, far off into the woods, another gunshot. Then another. And another. All around us, gunshots piercing the rain. ​ But they weren’t just gunshots. What should be these high-pitched explosions started to twist and ache. Some turning long and low, similar to a stalling engine. Others reverbed like wail, or a heartbreaking cry. One of them kept spitting out gunshots that sounded like small arms-fire, a semi-automatic pistol. And far off, in the distance, was something with a high caliber. Something *deafening*. “Look beyond the scope. Down the line. Watch between the trees.” And I did. Despite the rain, the ache, and the panic, I held that rifle like it was my goddamn life. ​ For hours, there was nothing but rain and gunfire. I’d catch glimpses of something moving in the distance. Sometimes straight ahead, sometimes from the flank. Sometimes I’d fire, hitting a branch or the side of a tree. Sometimes I’d hit something, causing a loud gun-like squeal to echo back at me. And one by one, our bullets started to run out, as cartridge after cartridge started to pile up in the underbrush. ​ Then, at some point, it stopped. ​ I remember the rain clearing. The final cartridge lay hot in the grass. Dad put his hand on my arm. “That’s enough,” he said. “It’s alright.” As I put the rifle down, I felt a barrier collapsing. There was nothing between me and what was out there anymore. We were sitting ducks, waiting for come what may. I burst into tears as this intense vulnerable feeling washed over me. Like it was already over. Like I was just waiting for that final gunshot. Just one. That’d be all. ​ But it never came. Instead, we saw the forest rangers. Maybe they hadn’t been that far away to begin with. ​ In the aftermath, we found that both Cisco and Hugo had made it out. Cisco had dropped his walkie as he ran but had taken shelter in a fishing cabin. Hugo had kept moving in a wide half-circle, making his way back to his camouflaged shelter. But Abe? Yeah, he didn’t make it. They called it a hunting accident, but could never pinpoint it on a single individual. Dad was beyond himself, questioning each and every decision down to the line. He questioned the fact that none of the rangers had heard the gunfire to begin with. There was no way they hadn’t. I’ve since heard all kinds of stories coming from the same area. Seemingly random gunfire scaring off the deer seems to be a common theme. ​ A lot has happened since those days. I still keep a gun for protection, and my dad lost most of his vision on his one eye. He’s still around, but we don’t really talk about it anymore. We’ve never gone back there. We’ve never heard of anyone else seeing them either. Honestly? I don’t think I really wanna know. And nowadays. We stick to fishing.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ppea8/the_strange_gunshots_of_logan_county/

nosleep

Saturdead

My best friend won't stop copying me!

If you saw a picture of Delaney, you’d scroll past it. I mean she’s pretty, but there’s something forgettable about her. Or maybe forgettable isn’t the right word. It’s hard to distinguish her features, to look directly at her and really see anything but the fuzzy outline of a person. What does she look like? Well, it depends. Her hair has been long, short, completely shaved, brown, blonde, red, pink, green. I’ve looked into her eyes so many times, and I have no idea what color they are. She’s not really short or tall, not really fat or thin. She’s…white? Yeah go find Delaney, she’s one of the 35 white girls at this house party. Does that help? The thing is, everyone I know who has actually spoken to Delaney has immediately had a crush on her. I’m including myself. She has this way of speaking that makes you feel like you’ve known her for a long time even when you’ve just met. And a sort of fragileness that makes you want to take care of her. I met her three drinks in on the front porch of some dickwad’s big, Victorian-style house that my friends dragged me to for a party. It was the summer of 2010, which means A) the drinks were Four Loko–the original kind that got taken off the shelves later that year–and B) I was dressed like fucking Zooey Deschanel. I’d stepped out to get some air after ducking under the couch to avoid my least favorite ex boyfriend. I remember tugging at the skirt of my polkadot dress and feeling like a real asshole. I never met a party I didn’t want to leave. That’s when Delaney sidled up to me. “Are you Kristen?” I am in fact Kristen. “Yeah, sorry, you look familiar, but I don’t know your name.” And so she was Delaney. She said she’d heard about me from some of our mutual friends and felt sad we’d never had a chance to meet. If I thought about it, I could kind of remember seeing her hanging around some people I knew, but she looked different. Her mousy hair was cropped in a short bob, like mine, and she had a silver nose ring I was sure she didn’t have before summer break. I told her I was happy that at least we were meeting now, and she gave me her number. I walked home that night feeling a bit stupid and giddy. I wrote, “Find out if Delaney’s straight.” in a note on my laptop before passing out that night. Being a coward, I never actually texted or called her after that, but somehow, over the course of the next couple of weeks, Delaney had become a stable fixture in my friend group. It was like she had always been there. Delaney was saving us a table in the dining hall. Delaney was studying for a test in our dorm room. Delaney brought a big bottle of water for everyone to share when we went to smoke weed in the woods. If I decided to go take a walk, Delaney linked her arm through mine, and we’d slowly spiral through campus together. I’d gabble about movies or music or whatever the fuck, and she’d bob her head up and down, always in agreement. I stopped being able to tell if I liked her. Talking to her was like talking into a mirror, but you can walk away from a mirror when you don’t want to see yourself. Delaney was always *there*. It started grating on me. People I didn’t know would wave me over only to realize I wasn’t Delaney. If they could tell us apart and we weren’t together, they’d ask me where she was like it was weird to see one of us without the other. And really, I guess it was weird. We were always together. At some point, my room mate had given her a key to our room, and she’d started sleeping over. Were we best friends? If someone asked her, would she say we were? What would I say if someone asked me? I spent so much time with her, but she felt like a stranger. I snapped one day when I came to my dorm after class, and she was rooting through my clothes, already wearing one of my sweaters. “Delaney, wear your own fucking clothes! Why are you always here?” She froze and immediately started crying. I felt like I’d kicked a dog. “Delaney. Dude. I’m sorry I yelled at you, but what is actually wrong?” She sank into the pile of clothes she’d laid out on the floor and looked up at me with pleading eyes. I sat down next to her, and she put her head on my shoulder. “I like you,” she said. “Don’t you like me?” “Like you like…how?” She laced her fingers into mine and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. I reflexively laid my head on top of hers, my lips touching her hair. Why was I yelling before? She pushed herself upward and rested a hand on each side of my face. She leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. I kissed her back, hard, and then pushed her away so I could really look at her face. She looked lonely and sad. And something else I couldn’t quite articulate. Why was it so hard to look into her eyes? Feeling a shiver down my spine, I quickly stood up, leaving her in the pile of clothes. “I don’t actually know you. Like at all.” She started to cry again. “How can you say that? We’re the same.” “I don’t know that! How could I possibly know that when you always just agree with whatever I say? I have no idea what you’re ever thinking. I have no idea what you like.” I suddenly understood what she looked like. She looked scared. “You do know me,” she said, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than me. “I agree with you, because we like the same things. I’m like you.” “Delaney, you need to go home. You can’t keep staying here.” Her back stiffened. Her eyes got even wider. “Kristen, please. I’m sorry. Please let me stay.” “You can’t stay in your own room for literally one night?” “I’ll be quiet. You don’t have to talk to me.” “Delaney, go to your own fucking room! You don’t live here!” Bawling uncontrollably and still wearing my sweater, Delaney stumbled out of my room and let the door shut behind her. I left the clothes on the floor and laid down in my bed. What kind of dumb piece of shit was I? I wanted to crawl out of my skin. What would have happened if I had just nicely told Delaney that I needed some alone time? Why didn’t that feel like an option? I woke up freezing cold and completely disoriented on top of my blankets what must have been several hours later. It was dark out, and my room mate wasn’t home. Was it 8:00 PM or 3:00 AM? Was it even the same day? I reached out for my phone, but it had shut itself off. Dead battery, I guessed. I turned on the light and plugged my phone into its charger. I walked to the bathroom to fill up a cup of water and returned, attempting to turn my phone on. The screen lit up for a moment and then turned black. I tried again. Light, darkness, nothing. Fine, whatever. I grabbed my purse and decided to take a walk. September had become cool and crisp, and the wind on my face made me feel calm, reassurance that the season was still passing like normal, whether or not I was an absolute fuck up. The campus lights were on, but I didn’t see anyone walking around. I figured it must have been at least 2:00 AM for that kind of quiet. Fine by me. I looped around my dorm building and up the steep, concrete steps that led up to a path into the woods. The moon was bright, so it was easy to see my way through the trees and into a grassy clearing where I liked to sit. Using my purse as a pillow, I looked up at the stars for a while until a rustling from some bushes caught my attention. My heart pounded. The woods around me suddenly felt dangerous and unfriendly. I almost screamed and then immediately felt silly as an enormous buck stepped out of the brush and into the moonlight. I observed him quietly as he made slow, tentative steps across the grass and into the darkness on the other side of the clearing. “Goodbye, friend,” I whispered, mostly to myself. “Goodbye?” A man’s voice directly behind me. I froze completely, unable to even turn my head toward the voice. A tall, dark figure stepped into the light and sat beside me. “It’s been a while, Delaney.” “I’m not–” He brushed warm, clammy fingers across my cheek and kissed me hard, snaking his tongue around my mouth, licking the inside of my teeth. I pushed him away and tried to pull myself up into a standing position. He held my shoulders down firmly. He looked into my eyes, and I tried to understand his face. His eyes were bright and cruel, and they shifted in his head, lowering and widening, coming closer together and easing back apart. His features moved with his eyes, rearranging themselves into different configurations. A handsome, chiseled jaw, a ratlike overbite, a doughy pout. His hair lengthened and shortened; his skin darkened and lightened. He was impossible to look at. Hands still pinning my shoulders, he looked up at the moon, his nose becoming long and sharp. “You’re still you, you know,” he said. “It’s always so easy to see you.” He turned back toward me with a gentle, soft-featured face. “And I’ll always be here for you.” He pushed my shoulders down against the grass and leaned in for another kiss. I managed to lift my elbow and and push against his neck. “I’m not Delaney, you dumb fuck!” He seemed to consider this. His hairline receded as he took my wrist and shoved my arm back down into the grass. He swept his other hand up my thigh, over my hip, up my stomach and then pushed down on my breast while looking me up and down. He shrugged. “What’s the difference?” What was the answer to that question? I felt hollow, emptied out like a pumpkin for carving. I thought of Delaney’s face, soaked with tears. The way her hair smelled. I looked into the man’s awful, moving eyes. “You don’t know me,” I spat. And then I screamed. I screamed and flailed and kicked and bit. The man straddled my hips and put a damp hand over my mouth. I kept kicking. I kept pushing. It didn’t matter. I am so small. I grabbed his hair and pulled, screaming again as he reached his hand up to grab my wrist. He smiled across a thousand faces, teeth yellow, teeth white, teeth missing, teeth sharp. And suddenly I was thrashing in the grass alone. I stood up and monitored the clearing. Empty. I grabbed my purse and ran. I sprinted through the woods, down the path, down the stairs, to my room. I threw up in my trash bin, simultaneously vexed and relieved that my room mate still wasn’t home. I laid on the floor for a while, feeling the stiff carpet on my back as I slowly caught my breath. When I finally reached for my phone, it was already on. 5:00 AM. Sure, fine. I called Delaney and got her voicemail. I called again. I texted her. I called again. Eventually I fell asleep as pale sunlight peeked through the curtains. My room mate was at her desk doing some homework when I woke up. “Where’s Delaney?” she asked. I wept inconsolably. ​ Sometimes I see Delaney pop up on social media. It’s hard to recognize her, because she’s always with a new group of friends, and she always looks like she fits right in. I try to figure out what she’s like, but she slips away and crops up again later, somewhere new. I try to figure out what I’m like too.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pn8pi/my_best_friend_wont_stop_copying_me/

nosleep

KashiraPlayer

Virus X-93 Outbreak [Part 1]

*"When the alarm starts ringing, pray and kiss your life goodbye."* These were the words of wisdom I had received at my laboratory induction fifteen years ago. They had been spoken by Professor Williams, and for some reason, when the alarm did begin to ring that day, fifteen years on, it was him that I thought of first. As I sat there in my office, with the sirens blaring and orange hazard lights flashing in the corridors outside, I pictured the old Professor enjoying his retirement in the Caribbean, a cigar in mouth, jet skiing across the blue ocean. *"When the alarm starts ringing, pray and kiss your life goodbye."* I don't know how long I sat there for—but what brought me back to reality was my colleague being chased past my office by Timothy, our janitor. A small laugh escaped me. It wasn't the comical nature of the scene; no, I laughed because all the sweat, blood and tears I had poured into my research over the years had worked. And I didn't have to look down a microscope either to see the little critters working their magic. It was right there before my eyes. Timothy was our very own lab rat. I suppose the janitor might not have signed up for the job had he known there was a chance he might have been infected by Virus X-93, the code name given to my research. The main component was the rabies virus. But like cooking, "mix a little bit of this, with a little bit of that", you soon end up with something that wants to make Timothy do more than plant a kiss on my colleagues' lips. Judging by the man's jerky and unbalanced movements as he ran down the corridor, he was still in the grip of phase 1 of the infection cycle. Phase 2 would begin fifteen to twenty minutes after—which would see his coordination become more balanced and Olympic sprinter-esque. It would also crank up the aggression and lust for human flesh. I guess you're probably asking what is the purpose of creating a "zombie" like virus in the first place? Warfare, mainly. There are hundreds of military laboratories across the globe where guys like me are tinkering with nature to create deadly biological weapons. We get a memo from a guy in a suit in Washington telling us what he wants (usually inspired by the film he watched the night before), and we get to work. No questions asked. Escapes of these viruses are rare—but they do happen (yes, Covid I'm looking at you). The research facilities, however, are designed to reduce the possibilities of an in-house outbreak getting past the reinforced concrete. The first way to reduce the risk is to build the laboratory underground, usually with multiple layers of security at each level. Check. The next is to place the facility in the middle of nowhere (like Alaska…) hoping to catch any spillage before it hits the wider world. Check, check. Then the last—but most important of all—is to have a squadron of specially trained soldiers ready to go in at a moment's notice and take out all parties involved if an escape were to take place: infected, scientists, and any other poor bastard who happened to be down there taking a leisurely stroll on his lunch break. Check, check, check. And it was for these very reasons that I sat in my office and realized (to put things bluntly) I was pretty fucked. My first move that day was to crouch down behind my desk and hide. Over the noise of the alarm, I could hear our infected janitor had caught his prized possession, and my colleague (former colleague, I should add), was being eaten alive. Eat up Timmy, you're a growing boy. Other (less senior) scientists in white lab coats streamed past my office, screaming and shouting as they fled towards the elevators. This was a stupid decision, of course, since the elevators would have been permanently locked a second after the alarm came on. The entire military base would have gone into a lockdown, and possibly even Washington had been informed. *"President, there's some serious shit going down in Alaska."* *"What's that?"* *"A zombie virus outbreak in our secret military laboratory."* *"Okay, Jimmy, ready the Air Force One. We're moving to Hawaii."* So I bet you're thinking, how did you live to write this then? How did you escape from an underground secret laboratory in the middle of Alaska with zombies running around? Well, I guess you need to keep on reading to find out (wink, wink, spoiler alert). I continued to hide in my office, patiently waiting for a soldier in a hazmat suit to kick down the door. I didn't even plan to beg. What was the point? The day you sign up for the gig they liked to gloss over that little part about Private Johnson kicking down your door one day and blowing your brains out. They stuck it right in the fine print. What happened, however, on that day, was that no soldier ever came. No one did emerge from the elevators, throwing smoke grenades, gunning down the infected scientists and non-infected alike. No, what happened was that thirty minutes after the alarm came on it suddenly turned off, giving way to an eerie silence. Behind my desk, I waited, listening. Had the security system malfunctioned? Had the squadron been placed on hold so they could document the effects of Virus X-93? Had Romeo had an argument with Echo about who got to use the flame thrower, and the bosses ordered them to settle it using rock, paper, scissors? These were the questions in my head as I tiptoed across my office, and crouched at the door, opening it slightly. Outside the white corridor walls were splattered with blood like a drunken artist had been throwing his paintbrush around haphazardly. *A dash here and a dash there and yes I can sell this masterpiece for millions.* I cracked the door more ajar and stuck my head out. In true typical horror fashion, a lightbulb flickered in the glass paneled ceiling, where underneath lay my dead colleague, their guts open to the world. There was no sign of Timmy the janitor or anyone else for that matter. It was quiet—deathly quiet, and I suddenly felt claustrophobic being so deep underground. The thought of never feeling the wind on my face caused my body to leave the relative safety of my office and slink out into the corridor. Where was I going? I didn't know but found myself continuing on until I came to the main laboratory entrance. Here, I crouched and waited. From inside came the soft drone of the analytical equipment. I rose and peeped into the glass windows. Shattered test tubes lay scattered on the floor alongside puddles of blood. But there was no one around. *Where the hell was everyone?* Or where the hell were "*they*", I should have asked. But I soon found out. Just round the corner of the corridor, four of my former colleagues were crouched over a dead body, feasting on the man's torso. It was like watching a pride of lions sharing an antelope, and while I must admit I was sickened, at the same time I felt a jolt of excitement. Virus X-92—the early prototype—had always suffered from infighting. Infected mice had always been equally eager to eat one another than other healthier mice. It was me who had theorized that replacing the SPGV glycoprotein with a mutated SPNG-K protein would solve this issue. We were just in the pretrial stages but here it was in action, the best of friends sharing a meal! I felt vindicated for all those hours persuading my colleagues. Talk about them having to eat their own words! I stayed watching for much longer than I should have … revolted yet enthralled. Finally, I peeled away and crept back down the corridor, past the laboratory and my office until I came to the elevators. In the vicinity, four dead scientists lay disemboweled, their faces frozen in a mix of horror and shock. As expected, the elevators were down. I was attempting to prize the elevator shaft open when something scuttled past the corridor further up. I froze and hugged against the walls. The noise of clanging and growling filtered through the walls as a group of infected roamed a nearby lab, searching for prey. They would be well into phase 2 by now. Heart in mouth, I shuffled past my dead colleagues, and was near the staff room when I heard muffled voices inside. I pressed my ear against the door. Yes, people were whispering. As I had my hand on the handle, however, something moved in my peripheral vision, and I turned to find Timothy, our janitor, at the far end of the passageway, grinning. His eyes were alive with a madness that would make your nightmares shiver. “Good b-b-boy, T-immy," I stammered, like an owner of an aggressive dog. Timmy's neck spasmed—the rabies virus shining through—and blood dripped down his chin. Frantically, I tried the door handle. It was locked. The voices inside had stopped talking, and I imagined those inside were nervously watching the door. I banged against it. “Fucking open up!” Timmy's grin widened, and he began moving towards me. “FUCK OFF, TIMMY,” I shouted, beating harder against the door. Suddenly my research didn’t seem as great as before. “OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!” Drawn by the noise, more infected appeared—my feasting colleagues. They were sprinting down the corridor, grinning like Timmy at the delicious feast before them (no doubt the bastards wanted payback for being a "great" boss.). “OPEN UP!” I pleaded. “PLEASE.” Just when the zombies were upon me, the lock clicked and the door swung open. I pounced inside and two people slammed the door shut in Timmy's face, who beat against it, snarling. “Thanks,” I gasped, turning round to my rescuers. “You saved my …” “Life?” my ex-wife finished. Now, it's probably a good time to point out that my ex-wife is a scientist too. This is where we met, right here working on Virus X-93. And, for the most attentive readers, you will remember that two people slammed the door shut on the zombies. Well, that second person was the reason for the EX part in the ex-wife. A man called Jeffrey, who was Chief Scientist of the Research Facility, and had been screwing my wife behind my back for the past four years. Yes, the man never admitted it, and we had broken up due to "irrevocable differences", but everyone on the base knew they were together. “Oh, it’s you two,” I muttered. “Nice to see you're both still alive.” Jeffrey, who had been my friend until the divorce, looked genuinely embarrassed. He glanced nervously at my ex-wife—Karen’s her name—and said, “Yes, glad you’re still alive, Frank, buddy. Errm, seems like that RNA modification you did converting uridine to pseudouridine really worked a trick … good job." As if they agreed with the praise, the zombies banged on the door loudly. “What?” Karen said, scowling. “You’re going to congratulate him after we’re all going to die?” I smiled. I enjoyed seeing my (ex)wife riffled. Jeffrey blushed. “Well … it did work … the evidence is right out there. And his suggested SPGV glycoprotein change has also worked. They don't seem to be fighting among themselves—" “I don’t care,” Karen interrupted. “It’s his fault we’re in this mess.” “Trouble in paradise?” I asked, causing them both to blush. Karen glared at me. “Don’t you start.” “Start what?” “Oh, you know what. Acting like you’re going to win the Nobel Prize.” I shrugged and sat down on the nearest chair. “Depends if there’s a Sweden after all this.” Karen continued to glare at me. “After all what?” “You know, this. If the virus escapes the base, there might not be many Swedish people in Sweden to be giving out awards. Might make it problematic." My ex-wife laughed. “You’re pathetic.” She looked at Jeffrey for validation, but he looked down sheepishly. Karen’s voice became serious. “It won’t get out, will it?” Jeffrey shrugged. He walked up to the sink and tried the faucet. It worked. "Water seems to be still running. The soldiers were due fifteen minutes ago but have not arrived. Protocol says by now we should have been killed, so the virus might have gotten out already. Its the only way we can explain why we are still alive." Karen frowned. "Impossible." "It's not," I answered. "The only plausible explanation is that it wasn't an accident. I believe someone—or some people, wanted the virus to escape." I looked at Jeffrey, and he nodded, as if he had worked this out already. It was sad to think that at one time we used to compete ideas off each other. Alaska's very own Watson and Crick. "The real question is, though," I said, "how are we going to make it to ground level to see what's going on up there?" Jeffrey sighed. “There is an override system in my office for non-lockdown emergencies. Hopefully, with the defense systems down, this would qualify, and we might just be able to make it up." “Okay, okay, okay” Karen said, (and I knew something pessimistic was coming). “If we somehow make it past the zombies and get to your office. Then make it up the elevators and onto ground floor. THEN make it out of the military base. What then? They'll want to kill us. You both know this." Neither Jeffrey or I replied. She was talking about our government. “Yes,” I answered, miserably. “We will be hunted. Forever … until we are dead." Jeffrey nodded. “Yes, that is safe to assume. If we ever make it out, we will live the rest of our lives as fugitives.” We all took a moment to process this information. I thought of Professor Williams again and suddenly his retirement in the Caribbean didn't look so great. Somehow, I didn't think he would be safe there. The secret service would come for him. Two men in black suits would appear one day; maybe just before lunch, or perhaps when he was getting ready to go snorkeling. Whichever—or whenever, they would come. There was no way the government would let this news ever get out. It was ironic because we had dedicated so much of our lives to a virus that, if didn't kill us, would see us murdered like fugitives. There would be no golden handshake from Uncle Sam. "Okay," I said, breathing heavily. "How are we going to get out of this room and to Jeffrey's office and get those elevators back on?" It was Karen who pointed to the ceiling. "Air vents. They always go through the air vents in the movies, right?" I nodded. Yes, I guess [they do.](https://www.reddit.com/r/HopefulEducation75)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pj2pq/virus_x93_outbreak_part_1/

nosleep

HopefulEducation75

Button Battery

I am an older sister to twin boys. We have other younger siblings, but it always seemed like the three of us were tidally locked, unable to physically be too far apart and yet never emotionally closer than we were. It might have only been a year and some change that separated me from them, but I lacked that secret biological ingredient cooked into them as they marinated nine months in our mother’s womb together. My own maternal soup was light on psychic connections and heavy on a fluttering anxiety that plagued me from the time I was conscious enough to realize bad things could happen to those I loved. Maybe the twins’ latent supernatural senses could smell the sour stench of worry, desperation, and fear of abandonment on me, but they were always naturally distrustful of my presence. I was branded as a tattletale with the same incongruous solemnity that they divided everything between themselves—always orange or red for Jacks, green or blue for Sam—despite the fact that I had never actually done anything to deserve the title. To them, I was trouble on wheels rocking at the top of a steep hill, potential energy incarnate, judged to be kinetically devastating to the Twin Team Agenda. And so, to compensate for their assessment of me, I hovered around them, meek and yearning, waiting for the chance to be part of their secret club, to feel the built-in safety of a bond of blood, popsicle stick jokes, and shared experiences. My so-called bucolic childhood was ultimately my brothers’, internalized and adopted as my own, but viewed as if from outside the unwashed windows of the family home that in theory we shared. Our mother was distracted, our father disinterested—both distant in a way that made them feel somewhat unreal, like faceless Peanuts adults that existed on the periphery of our lives. We were homeschooled, but our mother always seemed to have a fresh infant that demanded her time and her body, so our rare lessons consisted of all the things we shouldn’t be doing and the horrific consequences of each. We were students of the School of Fear, curriculum developed from either our mother’s personal anxiety (mine had to come from somewhere) or from a tired attempt to keep us from accidentally killing ourselves by removing herself from a 24/7 supervisory position and appointing us stewards of our own lives. The rest of our sparse education was workbook-based independent study disseminated to us via a multilevel marketing scheme that ran rampant among the homeschooling community. When I was eight and the twins seven, someone our mother knew had a son who died after swallowing a button battery. This sparked an urgent dining room assembly where the twins and I were bombarded with harshly clinical information about the dangers of these tiny metal death bombs, personified as wanting nothing more than to leap from the back of the bathroom scale down our throats to detonate in our bodies. There was a slide presentation. Barely after learning our heads from our shoulders and knees from toes, and long before we heard any whisper about the great mysteries of the the birds and the bees and were gifted proper words for our hoo-has and pee-pees, we were taught about tracheosophageal fistulas and the alkaline reaction when Lithium meets the moist environment hidden deep within us. We learned about the liquefaction of tissue as the catastrophic battle of human versus metal rages on, melting together and breaking apart delicate structures in a way infinitely more painful than anything our untested and innocent brains could comprehend. And we learned about death—something nebulous yet final, described as being locked in a dark closet and never being able to see your family again. (The concept of heaven did not mesh well with the overall goal to inspire us against wanting to be dead and nothing/no one we truly cared about had died as of yet.) This combined with the section of my nightmare catalogue dedicated to images from The Fly—a movie I was not allowed to watch and yet had seen one night when our father had fallen asleep in front of the tv while our mom was out at a church function—caused me to have bad dreams for months about each and every member of my family melting into a Cronenberg mass of rubbery flesh after consuming bowlfuls of button batteries that came out of innocent-looking cereal boxes or accidentally breathing in button batteries that fell from the sky like raindrops. Their gooey fingers would reach out to me as they screamed thickly and wordlessly in agony, the inside of their mouths sticky in a way reminiscent of the chocolate swamp creature from our Candy Land game board. For once in my life I knew exactly what the twins were thinking because I was thinking it too. The button battery lesson did not only linger with me, Jacks and Sam were also darkly obsessed. The two of them took to torturing me with elaborate set ups where they pretended to eat batteries in front of me or set up death scenes for me to find where they covered their faces and necks with impressive homemade prosthetics concocted from DIY play dough recipes. In a stroke of alchemical genius, they added spoonfuls of gritty Metamucil that made the color grotesquely realistic. I took to carrying around the only button battery I could find in the whole house, carefully transferring it each morning and night to whatever I was wearing. Something about being able to reach into my pocket and finger its dangerous and deadly shape brought me tentative peace. I was in control of it. My baby siblings would not find it. The twins would not accidentally on purpose swallow it. And I would not forget what exact shape and size it was, despite my traitorous brain suggesting that anything anyone was putting in their mouths at any moment could be one. It wasn’t long before I learned all the twins’ tricks, and Jacks especially grew bored with my increasingly lackluster reactions, bolstered as I was by my secret talisman. But then Jacks figured out he could swallow small coins. Where before the twins would flash a glimpse of “button battery” before passing a closed fist past open maw with a comical gulp, now Jacks would wander into the doorway of whatever room I was in and say, “Hey, Savannah—watch.” When I looked up, he would place a dime on his tongue and present it for me to see. As I started up from my seat in panic, he’d curl his tongue back into his mouth and swallow the dime. He would smack his lips theatrically, pause as if stricken, and then fall into fake convulsions as he acted out his interpretation of nuclear button battery devastation. I would clutch my pocket for reassurance. I slowly came to realize that perhaps the twins had never truly thought I was a snitch, but rather they had manipulated me into never being one. There was always a malevolent shine to Jacks’ eyes before he began his coin performance, an insinuation of a dare—tell and you are what we always said you were. And so I watched silently and our parents never knew. Late at night, through the wall my bedroom shared with the upstairs bathroom, sometimes I could hear Jacks grunting soft little kid grunts as he strained on the toilet. And sometimes I could hear the waterlogged plink of something small and metal on porcelain. Too soon after this, I think Jacks shifted from caring about the button battery ruse to being curiously invested in what he was capable of swallowing without choking. On days where we were responsible for our own lunches—that is most days—the three of us would sit across from each other at the table in unholy trinity, egged on by Jacks to see just how big of a spoonful of Top Ramen we could force down our throats without chewing. I hated the way the slick noodles felt when I ate them this way, more like a bolus of worms than food, and I was on edge constantly watching the twins eat. I think it made Sam uncomfortable too, but he was careful not to show it. Jacks, of course, always won. Jacks graduated to larger coins, nickels and pennies. Sam was his devoted hunter gatherer, slipping his hand into our father’s jacket pockets and crouching to scoop up change whenever he saw it glinting on the sidewalk. We’d lock ourselves in the bathroom and bear grave witness to Jacks performing his ritual. He liked to watch himself in the mirror as he ingested penny after nickel after dime after Ukrainian kopek (the final found outside the King Supers), all vanishing into him like a coin-operated washer or a gum ball machine. While Jacks watched himself, Sam watched Jacks, unblinking, and I watched the pair of them, as noninvasive an observer as the mirror itself. I noticed that Sam—in unconscious or perhaps twin-related response—would open and close his own mouth in time with Jacks’, almost as if unwilling to fathom an experience the two of them wouldn’t share. Our brother had made a piggy bank of himself. I half expected to hear him jingling as he walked. Ritual complete, we’d slip from the bathroom and wander back downstairs to our schoolwork or the tv, Jacks satisfied and Sam and I complicit. What must have been several dollars in, it became obvious that Jacks was changing. Where before it was almost impossible to tell the twins apart, Jacks was now recognizable as the less healthy one. It was subtle, hardly noticeable unless you spent hours staring at him as I did, intensely focused on his face as if I could keep him from choking by sheer force of will. (I knew of the Heimlich Maneuver thanks to another School of Fear lesson about the terror of aspiration but only had a vague idea of how to perform it.) My contribution was watching and wishing, and all the while noticing Jacks get worse. Jacks didn’t jingle as he moved, but he did develop a wheeze, a concerning lethargy that preceded his appearance around ever corner. He also began to lean on Sam as they walked, Sam bracing Jacks’ shoulder with his own in a way I wasn’t sure if he even realized he was doing. I also no longer heard Jacks grunting as he struggled to pass his coins in the bathroom at night, but I did hear him retching, at times making noises so violent I felt them in my own diaphragm and causing me to sit up in bed, straining to hear through the dark static of my room for any sign that Jacks was not okay to the point that I needed to finally intervene. When Jacks’ eyes became glassy and his nightly bathroom trips took on the guttural tonal quality of an exorcism, I made the mistake of suggesting, timid and deferential, that Jacks should stop swallowing things. I tried to soften it with a lame joke, insinuating in nervous breathy tones that we’d end up homeless if he didn’t quit consuming all of our money. The consequence of this was swift excision from the group. Jacks and Sam abandoned the bathroom and began instead barricading themselves in their bedroom, a place forbidden to me even before my exile. I took to listening at their door, anxious to be close by in case I was needed, afraid of being left out, panicked at feeling responsible for them as the eldest. But I never heard more than soft whispers I couldn’t quite make out. One day, Jacks got a nosebleed as we sat in front of our workbooks. My ears, sharply attuned to noises beyond the ordinary by this point, heard the first soft plat of a drop as it hit paper. I jerked my head up and met Jacks’ shocked gaze, eyes sunken in a narrow face that had rapidly deteriorated over the last weeks from mildly sallow to alarmingly gaunt. A saturated red trail slipped from his nose and over his lips before his hand shot up to cup his chin. We stared at each other, frozen. “Jacks, your nose,” Sam said, belated, halfway standing. By this point, Sam had become overprotective of his twin, his energy growing more and more frenetic as Jacks himself became muted and withdrawn. As Sam and I watched, Jacks’ chapped lips parted to allow the odd pale tip of his tongue to dart in and out, rapid and almost reptilian. I don’t think he originally meant to do it, but I know Sam and I both saw his expression flicker. For a moment the glazed look in his eyes was gone, replaced by the bright glint he used to possess. He wheezed slightly and swallowed. Sam and I also swallowed, in communion. Maybe I imagined it, but I swear I could taste what he was experiencing, that liquid, bright and copper as a penny—familiar at this point—but warm and slippery rather than cold and sharp. That’s how naked his expression was for that fleeting second. It was the closest I’d ever felt to him. He shoved back from the table, and took off for the bathroom with Sam right on his heels like a reverse shadow. I was left behind, unable to tear my eyes from that urgent stoplight dot of red marring the workbook across from me. At this point, I can only guess at the exact sequence of events that transpired between the nosebleed incident and the end. The twins took extra measures to hide things from me, sensing—accurately—that I was close to the limit of what I could reasonably be counted on to keep secret. Perhaps Jacks, deeply disturbed and addicted, tried to cut himself and satiate his craving like a vampiric ouroboros before Sam stepped in and offered from the cup of his own healthier vessel. Maybe Jacks asked it of Sam and Sam was afraid to decline out of a very real worry of the lengths his twin would drive his body to without him. Most likely, it was unspoken. After all, they existed for each other, as extensions of each other. I do know that Sam, the type of boy who demanded to wear t-shirts even in the coldest, snowiest winter, began dressing in long sleeves. He dug up years’ old Christmas pajama tops that were inches too short and too tight by far and even stole one of our father’s sweatshirts from the laundry—a move that was considered to be benignly “adorable” by the adults who even noticed. But I caught glimpses of things that scared me, bandaid wrappers in the trash or floating unflushed in the toilet, a purloined pink razor hidden in the cardboard spoke of a roll of toilet paper under the sink. When I pressed my ear against the twins’ bedroom door, among the whispers I also heard the sharp hiss of a pained intake of breath and once or twice even the faintest muffled whimper. I fingered the battery in my pocket like a worry stone, discomfited. Soon Sam joined Jacks in looking unwell. They drifted blanched and wraith-like around the house, forgoing rambunctious rough housing for quiet afternoons spent watching YouTube. Their gaming consoles sat forgotten. And our mother, for her part, seemed content with the tranquil environment she thought she had fostered. I hated her for not noticing and I hated myself for not being strong enough to make her see. On the last day, I lay on the floor outside my brothers’ door keeping my standard vigil. Cheek sunken into the dusty fibers of the flattened beige carpet and ear to the gap between it and the door. The susseration of their hushed voices lulled me slowly to sleep. And then Sam’s voice cut through my doze. Heart thrumming hummingbird fast even before I parsed his words, I heard him cry out, “Jacks, stop it’s too much!” I lay still, fighting entropy tenacious and syrupy as sleep paralysis, listening hard. Sam was crying now, an unfamiliar and animal sound I hadn’t heard from him since he was small. And then I heard the sound I feared the most over the past months—choking. I ripped myself up from the carpet, lurching into action that felt at once rusted and purposeful in a way that surprised me, as if I still was watching from afar as someone else piloted my body. This body shouldered the door open, popping the weak lock and all but tumbling into the space between the twin little boy beds decked out in Jacks orange and Sam green and Sam red and Sam red and Sam red. Sam sobbed on the bed. I could see shallow gashes on his skinny arm where bright bright blood was weeping in solidarity, but it was his right foot cradled up into his lap that broke my brain, untethering me from my position of complacency and sending me careening down that steep hill of kinetic energy at last. Deep dark crimson bubbled from where his big toe had been. Unbidden, hysterically, “Gone to market” singsonged in my mind. But despite the grisly horror of Sam, it wasn’t Sam who wasn’t breathing—it was Jacks. Wide-eyed Jacks clawing, scrabbling, clutching at his throat. His distress was silent now, something our mother told us meant the worst. Without significant thought, I hoisted his frail body from his bed and placed my fist above his bellybutton and heaved in and up. He was so light, lighter and softer than I expected with what I imagined was a stomach full of metal. I could feel the ridges of his spine against my stomach. I squeezed him again and felt a carbonated release, something pink-tinged and wet launching into the wall. Jacks sank against me, wheezing. I spun him to face me, shaking him by the shoulders. His head lolled, eyes half-lidded and a febrile, translucent purple. “What is wrong with you?” I shouted. Great black pools of pupils rolled upwards to meet mine with something I thought I recognized as a faraway defiance. Without breaking eye contact, he brought a bloody finger up to his mouth and suckled the gore from it before pulling it out with an offensive pop, trailing a sickly, mucosal drool. The corners of his mouth lifted, exposing gruesome teeth. I felt myself losing it. For the first time in my short life, I was furious. “This has to stop, Jacks.” My hand went to my pocket and came free with the button battery. “You need to stop.” He was so weak. The doctors said his body was riddled with all sorts of irreparable damage caused by the massive amount of coins they pulled from his gastrointestinal tract—corrosive zinc toxicity from the pennies, organ failure—really the button battery was just the cherry on top of the caustic mess he had already been brewing on the inside. He didn’t have the strength to fight me as I forced the small disc as far as I could reach down his throat. And even still, curiosity and muscle memory led him to swallow, dutifully gulping down this final metal pill like prescription ambrosia. I don’t know what Sam saw, if he saw me with the battery. He never said. Our screaming brought our mother, and our mother—to her credit—immediately bundled the three of us along with Sam’s toe in a Ziploc bag of ice into the car to the hospital, leaving our youngest siblings behind with our confused father. Sam went into surgery and Jacks and I sat with our mother in the waiting room of the ER. As was my custom, I watched Jacks without a word, mother none the wiser. It wasn’t long, though, before Jacks vomited—red, violent—and fell to the ground convulsing. And eventually he succumbed to his best performance of Button Battery Death.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pomsp/button_battery/

nosleep

vuntru

Something's trying to crawl out of my elbow.

It started as just me trying to get comfy in bed and feeling something in my elbow pull. That wasn't that unusual. Annoying, sure, but my joints work in stupid ways. Been in an out of physical therapy since I was 12. So one of my joints subluxing when I'm just tossing and turning? Typical. The next morning I woke up with pain in my elbow if I fully straightened it out. Again, normal. Not as bad as when I pulled something in my hip trying to get out of bed last week. Just stretched it and it was reduced to a dull ache. But this evening... I don't know. This evening was weird. I have chronic headaches, because I'm nothing if not a complete disaster. So I got home from work with a headache right next to my left eye. Changed into my pajamas, popped an ibuprofen, pulled down the blackout blinds, and curled up in bed. Then my elbow started moving. Not in a weird marionette "someone else is controlling my body" way. No. Something *inside* was moving. THis weird sensation of something pushing up against my skin, then back down. Up, then back down. It was too slow and purposeful to be a muscle spasm but then again what else could it be? So I put my other hand under my elbow so I could pinpoint exactly what was doing the motion. Figured it was probably a tendon. I waited. Waited. Then I felt it. Something thin and tubular pressed against my skin, and I swear to god it felt out my hand. There was a softest tingling sensation as my elbow's skin touched my palm. I saw stars before my eyes, but not in the cartoon pain way -- I saw the stars of the Milkyway stretched across an endless sky, calling to me-- I yanked my hand back and sat up quickly, looking around. My head spun a bit from the sudden movement, but I could see that there was nothing going on. I was in my room, no stars calling out. My elbow felt pretty normal, and I was alone, the cat busy eating her dinner upstairs. It was just me, trying to nurse a headache. Just before I lied back down, the feeling returned. Up, tracing the skin, then back down. Up, tracing the skin, then back down. Each motion made my joint feel a bit sore, which wasn't exactly going to help me sleep, so I got up and went into the bathroom, where light spilled in. Ignoring my throbbing head, I pulled back my sleeve and twisted my arm to be able to view the part of my elbow that had the sensation. Something dark was beneath my skin, dark enough to make my skin look an unnatural deep blue. It was shimming, little spots dancing on the underside of my skin. The pattern was almost mesmerizing, as if letters were being formed in an unknown, long-lost language. But even though I couldn't read it, I could feel it in my mind, seeking me. When sunlight hit the thing, it shifted up abruptly, causing me to wince. My skin stretched out unnaturally, as something long and dark and utterly unknown pushed upward, seeking the sun. My skin dazzled in the light and for a brief moment, I swore I saw a single galactic eye staring into my soul and making my head hurt worse, but promising me every glorious sight in the galaxy-- Frantically I ran into my bedroom, tugging at my sleeve. Once I was out of the sun, the *thing* receded, its calling stopped, and my skin returned to normal. God does that stuff stretch. I pulled my sleeve back over and heard my cat meow, no doubt wondering why the hell I was running in and out of the bathroom. When I pulled back my sleeve in the dark, it was still there, but no longer pushing up against my skin. That gaze was still there though. I don't know why it's staying in my elbow. It's almost pacing in there, but there doesn't seem to be any bruising, and it's only mildly sore. In horror movies this is the type of shit that bites its way out and leaves you bleeding on the floor. It's the type of shit that makes dogs howl and cats hiss, but Ruffles doesn't care at all. She sniffed at it, then rubbed against it... And the *thing* rubbed back, its dazzling eye looking up at her fluffy face. She's staying near me as always and seems utterly normal. I thought animals detected evil? I can't take any chances. I have the shade down in my room, but none of the rest of my windows have blackout shades. I don't know what to do. It doesn't seem to care about unnatural light, just that one moment with sunlight. I suppose I can always wear long sleeves, but not all clothes are blackout either. Besides, what if it leaves my elbow? It's clearly mobile. Maybe when sunlight hits my face it'll just go up there... And I can't imagine that it would be pleasant for it to escape, even if it appears to have no evil intentions. What am I saying? How could possessing a strange body and trying to root out of it *not* be evil? I swear this thing is messing with my head. I keep looking at it to confirm it's still there. I've got five hours until sunrise, and I think it knows that. The motions have become quicker, spiraling up and around my blood vessels and leaving a dying star's kisses on my tendons. Each time I pull up my sleeve it rotates so its eye is looking right up at me. Its gaze is so bright, so deep, so mesmerizing... It promises the knowledge of the universe and endless views of its beauty. It whispers of the sun's endless warmth and the moon's wondrous power. It assures me that no matter what, I'd be enlightened. I've just taped my sleeve to my wrist so I stop staring at it, but the urge to look again is becoming stronger and stronger. The urge says just to confirm it's still there, but I don't believe it. It's telling me to look at it. It's calling to me. Promising... I've seen you all help so many people, so maybe you can help me. Maybe someone else has experienced this. Maybe someone can tell me how to get it out, let it go to the sun without taking me with it. I can't be the first person in the world invaded by this... Thing, can I? Can I?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pt6ib/somethings_trying_to_crawl_out_of_my_elbow/

nosleep

Breezeykins

My girlfriend says I’m becoming the man of her dreams; whether I want to or not

The day I bought the DreamSync was the first time Val so much as touched me in weeks; throwing her arms around my neck when she saw the sleek packing. “I can’t believe you got it!” There wasn’t much choice. Tale as old as time; great relationship, ruined when our new jobs put us on opposite shifts. “We only really spend time together when we’re sleeping,” she’d quipped one night, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Of course, her phone was on the nightstand at the time. You know what that means: a torrent of ads for a company I’d never heard of. DreamSync offered a simple premise: you put on one of the sleek, matching collars. You fall asleep. You share a dream where you can interact and spend time together. I was skeptical, not just that it would work, but that it wouldn’t backfire. I’m not an unfaithful guy, or anything. But everyone has thoughts they’d rather keep private. Now, those thoughts are the least of my concerns. We poured over the instructions in our pajamas, put the collars on, and went to bed. To my shock, it worked almost perfectly. I opened my eyes on an endless pink beach, hot sand between my toes, crystal blue water crashing on the shore. Val was beside me, holding my hand as we walked through the waves. But the closer I looked, the more I realized it wasn’t HER; at least not exactly. She looked closer to the woman she was five years ago when I first saw her, back when she still painted her nails and spent hours getting ready for our dates. Back when we both made the effort. I was different too, toned, like I was during my college athlete days. And was I taller? “Maybe the dream gives us our ideal selves,” Val theorized when I brought this up. “Polishing the edges.” But the changes weren’t all cosmetic. In another dream, I whisked her off to a Thai place she’s been wanting to try. I’d always hated the stuff. That’s probably why she was so surprised when I brought home takeout from the same real world restaurant. A few days later. “I’ve just been craving it,” I told her. I wasn’t lying either. Other foods I previously enjoyed started to feel bland. A few nights later, we stayed up late watching a movie, and she curled up beside me on the sofa. The apartment felt eerie quiet; Val always talked through movies, shows, whatever. Or, at least she had, until our dream about a going to see a Broadway show. She sat through the whole thing, focused on the performance. Odd. When I started to lose interest in a hobby she always told me was a waste of time, I panicked. DreamSync didn’t polish the edges, it let us reimagine one another, one dream at a time. I tried to track down the company, thinking there may be some kind of factory reset to make me who I was. But my search came up dry. No phone number, website, or physical address. Nothing. I insisted we stop using the collars, afraid I’d lose what was left of my personality. Val doesn’t want to, though. Apparently, she caught on quicker than I did. “You’re just a few nights away from being [the man I’ve always dreamed of.”](https://www.coleschapters.com)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pd9tt/my_girlfriend_says_im_becoming_the_man_of_her/

nosleep

NobleClimb

What Happened To Jamie Hurst?

I live in a small town which has never had a population larger than eight thousand people, it's one of those towns in where everyone knows everyone and where gossip travels fast. Usually the gossip is very underwhelming. Like who has been taking books from the take a book leave a book box without leaving a book behind or why did Mr. Danis stay in his RV for the night while Mrs. Danis had a girls night in the house. However on a cold night in October all the harmless small town gossip changed to something horrifying and mystifying, the disappearance of the quiet eleventh grader Jamie Hurst... Jamie and his family had just moved into the town a year prior to his disappearance and lived into the small two bedroom house at the very end of Woodlawn Street, the house was previously lived in by Mr. Vernis a military veteran who was infamous in the town for being a very sweet but stern individual. Vernis died four days after his one-hundredth birthday, The town mourned the loss and the house stayed vacant for nearly eight years before the Hurst family bought and quickly moved into the home. The week they moved in is the week I met Jamie Hurst, Jamie was introduced to our grade ten class and immediately made friends with much of the more popular kids from the school, Jamie moved to our town from San Francisco and that quickly made him very popular being the only family in our town to come from such a big city. Let me mention before I continue anymore that I was in no way close with Jamie, actually I never really interacted with him at all other than the couple of times we were put together in group projects. Jamie joined the school basketball team and got the reputation as sort of a jock. The school year continued on like any other school year, Jamie's aura as the new student quickly faded and just like that he was just another student at our school. Before any of us knew it, it was already June and the end of the school year was approaching, now for a lot of students this meant talking about their big summer plans.. My family and I like usual did not have any big extravagant summer plans like Jeremy's three week Caribbean vacation, Diana's usual Montana cottage trip or Petr's summer long vacation to Holland to visit family. My family could not afford anything such as those, we were lucky enough to have the money this year to go to a amusement park on one of the weekends this summer, don't get me wrong I am not ungrateful for this I absolutely love the amusement park we go to and I am beyond thankful that my parents worked so hard just to be able to afford for me to go. The question of summer plans than quickly turned over to Jamie, Jamie instead of becoming ecstatic about what he and his family had planned this summer instead went quiet as he quickly tried to glaze over the subject hoping that we would just move on from him and onto the next person. This was something I had noticed and thought of as very strange and uncharacteristic of him, Usually Jamie would be someone who was very vocal and seemed to be outgoing, whether it be in class or with friends such as this. Thankfully for Jamie though his hopes came true as the other students continued on without pressing on the matter and continued on boasting about all the things they would be doing this summer. With that summer break came, Our final day of school was a uneventful one with all of the tests being finished and teachers being left without a curriculum to follow the day was full of word searches and extra PE time. Once the bell rang for the end of the day the students all belted loudly with excitement and quickly left their desks.. except for Jamie, instead Jamie's expression was that of what almost seemed like fear? I watched as Jamie slowly grabbed his bookbag and hung his head low, I almost wanted to approach him and reach out to see what was wrong but as I had never been close with him all school year I instead chose to just keep my distance. That summer ended up being one of the best summers of my childhood, we went to the amusement park and won a contest that I begged my parents to enter, the prize being free amusement park entry for a month. I swear I spent almost every day for the next month going and riding the rides, one time I rode the Mind-Boggler so much that I threw up. The thought of Jamie and his strange behaviour at the last day of the school year did not cross my mind at all that summer.. until the last day before school. I was laying in bed half excited and half dreading the beginning of the new school year, on one hand I was so happy that I would be seeing the few school friends I do have once again but on the other it was the eleventh grade and the classes I had this year were going to be very difficult.. Boy looking back now childhood troubles seem so insignificant and easy compared to what we deal with now as adults. As I lay there thinking about school my mind came across something that it had not thought about the entire summer, Jamie Hurst and how strange and unlike himself he acted as the school year came to an end. I tried to push it aside thinking about how so many things could have caused that reaction from him, maybe his scores on his year end tests were not the best? maybe trouble at home? maybe just him being a teenager and going through teenager problems? whatever the issue was for some reason that night it was all I could think about, eventually though I managed to drift off to sleep... \*ALARM RINGS\* It was seven AM and I awoke feeling exhausted but at the same time excited and nervous for the first day back to school, once again the thought of Jamie was not present and my focus was once again school. I arrived by 8AM fifteen minutes before the first bell. This gave me a little time to reconnect with my school friends, we quickly talked about our summers. Jeremy was still burnt from falling asleep in a beach chair by the pool at his resort, Diana went on about how when she is older she is moving to Montana and Petr talked about how he barely made it back in time due to his flight being cancelled three times. We stood outside our classroom door as the other students all began to line up by the door, all chattering in unison before our teacher Mr. Cotton arrived quieting the class and opening the door and telling us all to pick our seats, making it a point to mention how the seats we choose will be the seats we will have for the entire semester. I somehow managed to be one of the final students to get a seat, I was left to either choose a seat at the very front of the class or one of the two seats available at the very back of the room. I of course chose one of the back seats, no way I would put myself in the front of the classroom like that Mr. Cotton is well known for believing the kids at the front of his class are the ones who know all the answers to his questions. After about five minutes Mr. Cotton began roll call, Every student in the classroom was present except for one in particular.. That being Jamie Hurst, Mr. Cotton paused expecting to hear the boy call here like every other student but after a minute of silence the teacher looked up and nodded his head in disappointment before muttering under his breath "Absent on the first day, not good at all" before finishing roll call. Class went on like any other class would until thirty minutes in when during a lesson about the history of world war two Mr. Cotton's speech would be suddenly interrupted by the classroom door quickly swinging open. Quietly with his head down Jamie entered the classroom looking unrecognizable from the last time he was seen, his usually well kempt Blonde hair was greasy, matted and looked like it had not been brushed in several weeks, his bright and wonderous green eyes now looked sunken and dark with bags under them making it seem as if he hadn't slept for the entire summer break, the clothes he wore now were dirty and ripped when before he would get upset if he got just a tiny stain on them. Mr. Cotton looked dumfounded by Jamie's appearance and tardiness as was the rest of the class, as quiet gasps were heard at the sight of Jamie. Jamie chose the seat at the back of the class right beside me and slumped down into the seat not smiling or even giving attention to any of the other kids in the class, kids that just a few months ago were his close friends. This strange theme continued for the rest of the week with Jamie arriving later and later for class and looking more dishevelled and depressed. One thing that never changed with Jamie was the clothes he was wearing, he arrived everyday with the same dirty grey hoodie, ripped and stained light blue track pants and scuffed and worn down pair of white and red jordan sneakers. Mr. Cotton began to look more concerned for Jamie after each day. By time Friday came Jamie was asked by Mr. Cotton to stay behind after class, at this remark Jamie stood so quickly that the chair he was seated on flew backwards and hit the wall. Jamie stared right into Mr. Cotton's eyes before cursing at him, in an instant Jamie grabbed his bookbag and stormed out of the class... This was the last time Jamie ever went to school. For weeks following the incident Jamie would be seen arriving to school in the morning only to leave as the bell rang for first period. On the first day of October it was especially cold and gray outside and thanks to my father's loud and noisy morning routine I was woken up by 6AM. Instead of falling back to sleep for an hour I decided I would get ready and go to school early today, maybe I could try the schools breakfast program and see if it is really as bad as all the students say it is. I got myself ready and arrived to school by 7:15am, quite a bit before any of the other students. I believed I was alone.. that was until I saw a lone boy sitting on the front steps of the school, it was Jamie Hurst. At first I kept my distance but Jamie looked up and saw me he broke a very faint and tiny smile before nodding at me to come over to him. Extremely hesitant I took a deep breath and exhaled before slowly taking steps towards him, I had never interacted with Jamie one on one and I already had social anxiety, so that on top of Jamie's complete change of character I was definitely intimidated to say the least. When I approached Jamie my heart was racing as there was a moment of silence that felt as if it would last forever so I worked up the courage to finally break it. "So ugh, Jamie how have you.." In that instant I was cut off by Jamie as he held up his hand and held his other hand to his mouth, Jamie then reached into his hoodie pocket and rummaged before pulling out something, He turned his closed hand and opened it to reveal three teeth covered in dried blood. Jamie then began to smile an uncomfortably long smile, Thus revealing a mouth void of any teeth at all. At this very moment my heart felt as if it was going to burst out of my chest, I could not help but to let out a scream of terror at the sight of Jamie. Jamie tilted his head and dropped the teeth on the ground before laughing wildly. In that instant Jamie reached towards me but I managed to step backwards just managing to avoid Jamie's grasp. I quickly turned and sprinted away from Jamie as fast as a was physically able to do so, as I made space between him and I all I was able to hear was the loud and almost forced sounding laughter belting out from Jamie. I ran without catching my breath for what seemed like at least an hour until I was only a block away from my house. I rushed to it and burst through the front door and right into my mother who was about to leave for work, In shock and complete horror I spilled out exactly what had happened to my mother. Her face went from confusion to a mirrored terror to mine. She allowed me to stay home from school that day and called the local police department telling them in exact detail on what happened, The police seemed to not totally believe in what my mother was saying but gave in and told her that they would do a checkup at the Hurst adress... what happened after that has continued to haunt me and the town till this very day..... The police arrived to the Hurst residence by 1PM that day and after several attempts to get an answer at the front door they became concerned as the Hurst's car was parked in the driveway, After roughly 25 minutes the police forced their way into the residence and walked into a grisly scene. Before them laid the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, both of them were badly decomposed presumed to have been dead for months now. The wretched smell of the bodies made several of the Officers puke and many had to leave the house at the sight of it, being small town police in a town with very little crime this was the first time many of them have ever seen something as horrific as this. The officers began to look around the house searching for Jamie, But Jamie was nowhere to be found. The only sign that Jamie was there was teeth, the rest of Jamie's teeth along with the full sets of teeth of his parents. The teeth were all placed onto Jamie's bed put into a strange design... a design of a war medal. Next to the teeth was a note, written in a sticky red substance. Here is what the note read.. HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER June 10th Mr. Vernis has become so demanding as of late, at first he only wanted us to respect him.. Now he won't let mom and dad leave the house. He only let's me leave when one of us offer him a piece of us, my parents decided to use their teeth.. They told me that they will continue to offer up their own so I could continue school.. I've tried to act normal but now with summer here I wont be able to leave, I dont want them to suffer anymore, they're almost out of teeth to give... soon I will have to step up. June 29th Mr. Vernis has become aggressive, I should have never unlocked that journal.. Now my dad is dead, Mr. Vernis said I could live as long as my mother stabbed my father in the neck seven times.. she did it. she really did it. July 8th She's dead.. I am so alone now. I wish we never moved here. I have accepted that I am to be next. Mr. Vernis tells me that he will raise me now. I can't sleep or eat, my mom is in the bathtub... I smell terrible but I cannot muster up enough courage to get her out of there. July 26th I left the house for the first time today. Mr. Vernis said I had to give him two teeth for everytime I left now.. I did it, It felt relieving. I thank Mr. Vernis now... August 2nd The bodies are starting to smell so bad, I moved mom beside dad.. I think she would of wanted that.. August 20th School starts again soon, I think I am going to start going. I can't take this anymore.. Mr. Vernis said that if I give my teeth to someone that I will be free from all of this. I need to be free, I have to.. September 1st Free.. SET ME FREE Shortly after this the Hurst residence was swiftly condemned and torn down, with the only thing being left is a small garden with a plaque in memory of the Hurst family. It has been over twenty years since Jamie Hurst has disappeared, Twenty years since the Hurst families grim fate... Twenty years is a long time, and I honestly think of this as a distant memory.. I am only writing this because this morning the strangest thing happened, When I went to leave my house I stumbled upon a small baby blue box on my doorstep. I picked it up and began to open it before seeing what it was... Inside the box contained three small... bloody teeth...

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pi3gs/what_happened_to_jamie_hurst/

nosleep

SocietysMenaceCC

I was an Altar boy when I was Younger, we had a strange List of Rules to Follow pt. 1 - St. Michael’s

[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16s72ge/i_was_an_altar_boy_when_i_was_younger_we_had_a/) When I was just eight years old, my life took a dark and unexpected turn. My mother, a devout Catholic, who had taken me to church regularly, had been committed to the nearby Evergreen Mental Health Center after a harrowing incident. It was a foggy November evening, and I can still vividly recall the chilling screams that pierced through the walls of our home. Shadows danced wildly in our living room as I huddled in a corner, my heart pounding. My mother's eyes had been wide with terror, her voice trembling as she muttered something about "the eyes in the darkness." It was a nightmarish episode that defied explanation, leaving her committed for her own safety, or so they said. Left without a guardian, I found myself in the care of St. Michael's Church and Orphanage. St. Michael's, a massive, centuries-old stone structure, loomed over the small town like a silent sentinel. It had always been a place of solace for my mother and me, where we sought refuge from life's trials, attending mass every Sunday without fail. Now, it was to be my temporary home, a refuge of a different kind. The church was run by a stern priest named Father Matthias, a man with a reputation for his unwavering dedication to his faith. He had a presence that commanded respect, but his eyes held a hint of something deeper, something that unsettled me even at such a young age. As I arrived for my first day at St. Michael's, the church seemed to greet me with a sense of eerie familiarity. Its towering stone walls held countless secrets, and the stained glass windows filtered the dim sunlight into an ethereal mosaic of colors that danced on the ancient pews below. The silence within was profound, broken only by the soft echo of my footsteps on the cold, polished marble floor. Father Matthias awaited me near the altar, his stern expression softening slightly as he caught sight of me. His gray cassock billowed as he approached, revealing the crucifix that hung from his neck, casting a faint shadow on his lined face. "Welcome, young one," Father Matthias said in a deep, soothing voice. "I am Father Matthias, and you may call me Father Matt. You'll find that St. Michael's is a place of solace, even though it may seem imposing at first." I nodded hesitantly, my heart still heavy with the weight of recent events. "I'm Andy," I replied, finding solace in the simplicity of my own name. Father Matt gave a small smile and gestured for me to follow as he began the tour. "Come, Andy, let me show you around. St. Michael's has a rich history, and it has been a sanctuary for those in need for centuries." As we walked through the church, Father Matt shared stories of the church's past, its stained glass windows depicting scenes from biblical tales, the ornate statues of saints lining the walls, and the organ that had played its haunting melodies for generations. Despite the priest's attempt at making me feel at ease, an inexplicable chill seemed to persist in the air, as if the very stones of the church were keeping some ancient secret. We continued our tour through dimly lit corridors, passing doorways leading to mysterious chambers I could only imagine. Father Matt spoke of the strict routines and rituals that would become a part of my daily life, each one designed to strengthen my connection to the church and its faith. He spoke of the sacristy where I would prepare for mass, the choir loft where I would sing praises to God, and the confessional where secrets were laid bare. As we stood before the confessional, Father Matt turned to me, his gaze unyielding. "Andy, remember this," he said in a hushed tone. "What is said within these walls must never leave them. The sanctity of the confessional is paramount." I nodded, his words sinking in like a stone dropped into the depths of my soul. The sense of foreboding that had accompanied me to St. Michael's intensified, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had entered a world far more complex and unsettling than I had ever imagined, although my young mind felt ill-equipped to understand the weight of this revelation. Father Matthias continued our tour through the labyrinthine halls of St. Michael's, revealing the few other orphans who called this place home. We came across a small group of children, their faces etched with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. Most of them were younger than me, their eyes wide and innocent, contrasting sharply with the stern atmosphere of the church. "This is your new family for the time being, Andy," Father Matt announced, introducing me to each child in turn. "This is Mary, she's nine," he said, gesturing to a shy girl with auburn hair. Mary offered a timid smile in response. "Michael, who is seven," he continued, pointing to a boy with freckles and a mop of unruly blond hair. Michael greeted me with an enthusiastic wave. "And this is Sarah, just a bit older than you, at ten," Father Matt said, indicating a quiet girl with long, dark hair who seemed to regard me with a mixture of curiosity and caution. There were a few more children that Father Matt mentioned but didn't introduce personally. He rattled off their names and ages, but they remained distant, like shadows in the background of my new life. As we moved on from the children, Father Matt's demeanor shifted, becoming more solemn. He led me to a small, secluded chamber near the rear of the church, its dim lighting casting long shadows across the ancient stone walls. "Now, Andy," Father Matt began, his voice dropping to a hushed tone, "there are a few more things we need to cover. These are not just routines and regulations; they are sacred rules that must be followed without question. Do you understand?" I nodded, a growing sense of unease gnawing at my insides. It was as if I had crossed a threshold, entering a world where the rules were not simply guidelines but absolute commandments. Father Matt's eyes bore into mine as he prepared to unveil these mysterious rules that would govern my life within the walls of St. Michael's Church and Orphanage. Father Matthias regarded me with a solemn expression as he began to list the rules, aware of the need to reassure my young, impressionable mind. "Rule number one, Andy," he said, his voice steady, "is that lights-out is at nine o'clock every night. You must never leave your room after that hour. It's important for everyone's safety and for maintaining a peaceful atmosphere." That seemed reasonable enough, and I nodded in understanding. "Rule number two," Father Matt continued, "when we are in mass, you must never stare at the statue of Saint Agnes, the one to the left of the altar. It's a matter of respect. Looking at it during the service is considered disrespectful." I nodded again, making a mental note to avoid the gaze of the stern-looking saint. "Rule number three," he said, his tone becoming more serious, "sometimes, you may hear a voice outside your room at night, beckoning you to play or leave. Ignore it, no matter what it says. You must stay in your room until morning, remember rule number one." The idea of a mysterious voice outside my door made my hair stand on its ends, but I nodded once more, resolved to follow this strange directive. "Rule number four," Father Matt continued, "is about the confession booth. 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. It's a matter of spiritual protection, Andy." This rule struck me as particularly odd, but I didn't question it. Father Matt's authority was absolute in my eyes. "Finally, rule number five," he said, his voice heavy with a sense of finality, "under no circumstances should you go into the basement. It's a place that's off-limits to all of us. It's a dark and foreboding place, and it's best to avoid it." As he concluded his list, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of unease settling over me. These rules, especially the ones about the basement and the confession booth, left me with an unsettling sense of mystery. But Father Matthias had presented them as essential for our well-being, and I knew that as a young boy in this unfamiliar world, I had no choice but to abide by them. Father Matthias nodded in approval as I acknowledged the rules, and then he gently led me towards the heart of St. Michael's, where the everyday life of the church and orphanage unfolded. We soon arrived at a small classroom, where a stern-looking nun with a habit and a ruler in her hand was organizing books. "Andy," Father Matt said, "this is Sister Margaret. She'll be your teacher and guide during your stay here. Sister Margaret, this is Andy." Sister Margaret's expression softened slightly as she offered a tight-lipped smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Andy. We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other." Father Matthias continued, "And now, Andy, I'd like to introduce you to Sister Catherine. She's the head nun of St. Michael's and keeps everything in order. If you ever need help or guidance, she's the one to speak to." Sister Catherine, a much older nun with a serene demeanor, nodded at me kindly. "Welcome, Andy. We're glad to have you here." With that, Father Matthias and Sister Catherine exchanged a knowing glance, as if there were things left unsaid between them. The head nurse arrived at our side, and I realized that my time with Father Matt was coming to an end. Father Matthias placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You're in good hands, Andy. Follow Sister Margaret's lead, and remember the rules we discussed. You'll do just fine here. Sister Catherine and I have some matters to attend to. We'll check in on you later." As they left, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of isolation in this unfamiliar place. I watched Father Matthias and Sister Catherine disappear around a corner, leaving me alone with Sister Margaret, who regarded me with an expectant look, ready to begin my new life at St. Michael's Church and Orphanage. The first few days at St. Michael's were a whirlwind of new faces, routines, and the constant presence of Sister Margaret. While the rules and the cryptic warnings from Father Matthias still weighed heavily on my mind, the presence of other children my age brought a degree of comfort to the otherwise intimidating environment. It was on the third day that I properly met Michael, the seven-year-old boy with a mop of unruly blond hair whom Father Matt had introduced during my tour. Our paths crossed in the small courtyard behind the church, where a patch of overgrown grass and a single gnarled tree served as our modest playground. I watched as Michael tried to climb the tree with all the enthusiasm and recklessness that only a child could muster. He slipped and tumbled to the ground with a thud, dusting off his clothes with a grin that revealed a missing front tooth. "Hey, you're Andy, right?" he asked, flashing me a mischievous smile as he approached. "I'm Michael." I nodded, relieved to find someone my age to talk to. "Nice to meet you, Michael. You okay?" He shrugged off his fall as if it were nothing. "I fall all the time. No big deal. Wanna play a game?" I hesitated, glancing around to make sure Sister Margaret wasn't watching. It was the first time I had been given any semblance of free time since my arrival, and the idea of playing was too tempting to resist. "Sure, what do you want to play?" Michael's eyes sparkled with excitement as he explained a game he called "Shadow Tag." It involved darting around the courtyard, trying to step on each other's shadows while avoiding being tagged. It was a simple game, but it offered a much-needed break from the strict routines of St. Michael's. As we played, Michael shared stories about the other children, like Mary and Sarah, whom I had yet to meet. He spoke of their personalities, their likes and dislikes, and the pranks they sometimes played on Sister Margaret when they thought they could get away with it. His tales painted a picture of camaraderie and mischief that gave me hope in the midst of the eerie rules and unfamiliar surroundings. Despite the strange and sometimes ominous nature of St. Michael's, my budding friendship with Michael began to anchor me in this peculiar place. It was a small ray of light in a world that seemed increasingly shrouded in shadows and secrets. That afternoon, as I played with Michael in the courtyard, I noticed a tall, dark-haired girl standing near the entrance. She seemed older than us, and something about her demeanor gave me pause. Her name, as I had heard from father Matt, was Sarah. As we approached her, her cold gaze met mine, and she sized me up with a critical look. "You're the new kid, right?" she said, her voice tinged with an edge of superiority. I nodded nervously, my excitement from playing with Michael fading quickly in her presence. "Yeah, I'm Andy." Sarah's lips curled into a condescending smirk. "Well, Andy, you better watch your step around here. St. Michael's isn't a place for kids who can't follow the rules." I didn't know what I had done to earn her disapproval, but her words made me feel uneasy. Michael glanced at me, clearly uncomfortable with Sarah's attitude. Ignoring her, I turned my attention back to the game, hoping she would leave us be. But as we continued playing, something peculiar happened that sent shivers down my spine. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow move behind one of the church's windows. As I steadied my gaze, I saw what looked like a person glaring at me through the glass panes. Except, it couldn’t have been a person. It was as tall as the whole stained glass window, and it was paper thin. Although I could see its legs, its slender arms reached so far that I couldn’t see any hands. I could see 2 faint, glowing spots where its eyes should be, it was as if the gaze of this creature was piercing me down to my very soul. My heart raced as I tried to make sense of it, my gaze fixed on the window. The boney, jagged joints of its arms filled me with an ominous, overwhelming sense of dread. Just as I was about to ask the others if they had seen it too, Sarah gave me a sudden shove, sending me sprawling to the ground. I landed hard, the breath knocked out of me, and I struggled to regain my bearings. Before I could react, one of the nuns, Sister Margaret, came rushing over, her expression a mix of concern and sternness. "What's going on here, children?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the scene. Still shaken from the fall, I stammered, "I... I saw something in the window, Sister. A shadow." Sister Margaret's gaze followed mine to the window, but there was nothing there now, just the fading daylight. She sighed and helped me to my feet. "Sometimes our minds play tricks on us, Andy. There's nothing to be afraid of. Now, go inside and wash up for dinner." As I walked away, the feeling of dread lingered, and I couldn't help but wonder about the shadow I had seen and what secrets St. Michael's held within its ancient walls. I took a final glance at the stained panes and to my dismay, the shadow was gone. I had no choice, but to put this in the back of my mind and continue my day. Night descended upon St. Michael's, casting long shadows throughout the ancient hallways. Sister Margaret, after our evening meal, directed us to our rooms for the night. It was during these quiet hours that Michael and I had a chance to talk, free from the watchful eyes of the nuns. We sat on the edge of our beds, whispering in the dim candlelight. Michael, who had always appeared cheerful, leaned in closer, his expression more serious. "You know, Andy," he began, "Sarah might act all timid in front of the adults, but she's a real bully when they're not around. Be careful around her." I nodded, grateful for the warning. I had already sensed something unsettling about her. Then, Michael's voice dropped to a hushed tone, and he cast a cautious glance at the room's window. "And about that shadow you saw," he said, "I've seen it too." My heart raced as I leaned in, eager to hear more. "You've seen it? What is it?" Michael shook his head slowly, his expression haunted. "I don't know, but I've heard whispers from the other kids. They say there are things in this place, things we can't understand. That's why we have to follow the rules, Andy. We can't afford to look into things around here." His words sparked an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I couldn't help but think about Father Matthias' cryptic rules and warnings. "What do you mean, follow the rules?" Michael glanced around nervously before continuing. "You saw how Sister Margaret and the others act. They pretend everything's normal, but it's not. There are secrets here, things they don't want us to know. So, we have to be careful and stay out of trouble." I nodded, my mind swirling with a mixture of curiosity and fear. St. Michael's had transformed from a place of refuge into a cryptic labyrinth of mysteries and ominous shadows. As Michael and I settled into our beds for the night, I couldn't shake the feeling that our journey into this enigmatic world was only just beginning. I’d soon find that my suspicions were right. The night was silent as I lay in my small bed, the moonlight casting eerie patterns on the walls of my room. Despite the unsettling events of the day, I had managed to drift into a fitful sleep. That's when I heard it—a faint, distant whisper calling my name, like a gentle breeze through the cracks of the room. "Andy," the voice murmured, barely audible. "Andy, come and play." I stirred in my bed, my eyes darting around the room. Michael lay nearby, peacefully asleep. The room was still and bathed in shadows. The voice couldn't have come from there. I tried to dismiss it as a dream, closing my eyes and attempting to return to sleep. But then, I heard my name again, more insistent this time, like a distant plea. My heart raced, and I realized the voice was coming from beyond the door. I sat up in bed, my pulse quickening as I strained to listen. The lock to my door slowly unlocked with a distinct click. The voice persisted, soft but persuasive, beckoning me to open the door and join them in a game. Curiosity overcame my fear, and I swung my legs out of bed, making my way toward the door with caution. My hand hovered over the knob, and my breath hitched in my throat. The voice continued its siren call, growing stronger with each passing second. "Come on, Andy, don't be shy. Let's play shadow tag together. It'll be so much fun,” the voice beckoned, “come out and play.” I couldn't resist any longer. My fingers closed around the cool brass handle, and I slowly turned it. The door inched open, revealing a sliver of darkness on the other side. Just as I was about to step through, the door slammed shut with surprising force. I let out a startled gasp and stumbled back, my heart pounding in my chest. As soon as the door shut the lock clicked instantly, locking the door from the outside again. I turned around and saw Michael standing there, bathed in the dim moonlight. His eyes were wide with terror, and his voice trembled as he scolded me in a hushed, frantic tone. "Andy, what are you doing? You can't open the door! You can't listen to the voices!" Michael's fear was palpable, his grip on my shoulder like a vice, “have you forgotten the rules?” I was taken aback, the intensity of Michael's reaction sending a chill down my spine. "But I thought it was one of the other kids," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. Michael shook his head, his expression grave. "It's not a kid, Andy. It's something else. Something that's not supposed to be here. You have to promise me, you won't listen to those voices. You won't break the rules. You’d be putting us all in danger… the last kid to wander out during the night never returned. Father Matthias told us they were adopted, but I knew better.” I nodded, my heart heavy with fear and confusion. Children have gone missing here? My stomach swelled as I contemplated this disturbing revelation. St. Michael's had become a place of endless secrets and hidden dangers, and I was beginning to understand that there was far more to fear within these walls than I had ever imagined. The following morning, the echoes of the previous night's eerie events still lingered in my mind. I awoke to the soft but firm voice of Sister Catherine as she made her rounds, rousing the children from their slumber and sending us off to begin the day. "Come along, children," she said with a warm but authoritative tone, her presence commanding respect. "It's time for morning classes." Michael and I followed the other children, our footsteps echoing through the ancient hallways of St. Michael's. The classrooms were dimly lit, and Sister Margaret stood at the front, ready to impart her knowledge. Despite the shadows that clung to the walls, she began the day's lessons with a smile, her stern exterior giving way to a genuine passion for teaching. The lessons passed quickly, and soon it was time for mass. The children filed into the church, where the familiar scent of incense filled the air. I took my seat alongside Michael, the solemnity of the occasion washing over me. As the ceremony progressed, a strange sensation washed over me, a feeling that I was being watched. It was as if a pair of unseen eyes bore into the back of my head, urging me to turn and look. My gaze began to shift from person to person, trying to identify the source of this disconcerting feeling. Minutes passed, and the sensation intensified. My unease grew with each passing moment, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. I continued to scan the congregation, desperately searching for the source of my discomfort. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, my gaze settled on the statue of St. Agnes, just left of the altar. The statue's cold, stone eyes seemed to pierce through me, locking onto mine. It was an unnerving sight, leaving me feelings helpless and mortified. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the statue. It was as if a powerful force held me in its grip, commanding me to stare. I felt a strange, unsettling connection to the figure, and it was as though the statue's gaze held some unfathomable secret. Just as I was about to lose myself completely in its stony visage, Michael grabbed my arm suddenly, jolting me back to reality. He leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the hushed prayers of the congregation. "Andy, stop staring," he whispered urgently. "Remember the rules." I blinked and tore my gaze away from the statue, my chest pounding. The rules Father Matthias had imparted upon me echoed in my mind, and I knew that I had come dangerously close to breaking one of them. St. Michael's was a place where even the statues seemed to hold mysteries, and I couldn't afford to forget the consequences of curiosity, whatever they may be. Mass continued, the solemn rituals unfolding as the congregation joined in prayer and reflection. I did my best to keep my gaze fixed on the hymnals, avoiding any temptation to look back at the unsettling statue of St. Agnes. But the feeling of being watched lingered, and it was a constant battle to keep my eyes forward. Eventually, my eyes did wander back to the statue, however briefly, and I saw that the statue was no longer staring at me. It was as if its head had turned to face another orphan while I was looking away. I shook this off, convincing myself that my eyes were merely playing tricks on me, but the sense of dread lingered. As the mass neared its conclusion, Father Matthias rose to address the congregation. "After today's service, I encourage all of you to visit the confessional booth," he announced, his voice carrying through the hallowed space. "It is a time for reflection and cleansing of the soul. Please, take this opportunity to unburden your hearts." The minutes stretched on as the congregation filed out of the pews, making their way to the confessional booths. I stood in line, my heart pounding with anxiety, the image of St. Agnes' statue still etched in my mind. Finally, it was my turn. I entered the confessional booth and sat in the small, dimly lit chamber. The wooden panel separating me from Father Matthias seemed impenetrable, but I knew this was the place to reveal my deepest secrets. The confessional booth seemed both comforting and foreboding, its walls embracing me like a cocoon while also trapping me in an unfamiliar darkness. I shifted on the hard wooden bench, my small frame hardly filling the space. The scent of old wood and incense clung to the air, a mixture of sanctity and solemnity. Father Matthias' voice emerged from the other side of the wooden partition, his tone gentle and inviting. "Speak, my child," he said softly, "what burdens your young heart?" I hesitated, uncertain how to put into words the fears and anxieties that had been weighing me down. But I knew that I had to share the truth about my mother, about the eyes in the darkness, about my own fear. "It's about my mom," I began, my voice quivering. "She had a... a breakdown, that’s what the doctor told me. She said she saw 'eyes in the darkness,' Father. It scared her so much." The confessional booth seemed to cocoon me in silence as Father Matthias absorbed my words. There was a profound understanding in his response. "I'm deeply sorry to hear about your mother's struggles, Andy. Such experiences can be frightening, especially for a young child." Tears welled up in my eyes as I continued. "But, Father, there's something I've never told anyone, not even the doctors. I saw those eyes too. In our old house, when it was dark, I saw them. But I didn't tell anyone because I was afraid they'd lock me away like they did with my mom." The confession felt like a heavy burden lifting from my young shoulders, and I waited anxiously for Father Matthias' response. There was a thoughtful pause on the other side of the partition. "Andy," Father Matthias finally spoke, his voice filled with compassion, "we all bear our own burdens, and sometimes, the truth can be a daunting thing to share. By opening your heart today, you've already taken a significant step toward healing." I wiped away the tears that had spilled onto my cheeks, grateful for Father Matthias' understanding. "What should I do, Father? How can I make up for being dishonest?" Father Matthias offered a suitable penance, instructing me to recite a particular prayer a certain number of times and to seek guidance from the Lord in moments of doubt and fear. We continued our conversation, delving into the depths of my soul and my struggles with faith and the inexplicable darkness that seemed to haunt me. As we spoke, time seemed to blur, and the confessional booth transformed into a sanctuary of understanding and solace. Father Matthias' words provided a comforting anchor in the turbulent sea of my fears. Finally, as our conversation neared its end, Father Matthias offered his absolution, and I left the confessional booth with a newfound sense of hope and determination. I knew that the shadows and secrets of St. Michael's were far from over, but perhaps through faith and confession, I could find a path toward understanding and salvation. After the confessional, I left with a heart lightened by my confession to Father Matthias. The day continued with classes and prayers, but I couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of peace and clarity within me. When the time for play in the courtyard finally arrived, I joined Michael and the other children in a game of tag. We darted around the overgrown grass, our laughter filling the air, momentarily erasing the ominous weight that seemed to hang over St. Michael's. However, my brief moment of happiness was shattered when Sarah, as if seeking an opportunity to torment me, joined our game. Her cold gaze fell upon me, and I knew that trouble was brewing. Sarah didn't waste any time; she pushed me roughly, sending me sprawling onto the uneven ground. Pain seared through my palm as it scraped against a jagged stone, and I clutched my injured hand, a searing cut dripping thin lines of blood. Michael rushed to my side, his face etched with concern. "Andy, are you okay?" Tears welled up in my eyes as I nodded, my injured hand throbbing. I knew I needed to seek help. With Michael's support, I made my way to the medical office of the church. Inside the small, dimly lit room, the head nun, Sister Catherine, waited for us. Her demeanor was as stern as I had come to expect, but there was a hint of warmth in her eyes as she assessed my injured hand. "What happened, Andy?" she asked, her voice carrying a maternal concern. I recounted the incident with Sarah, how she had pushed me, causing me to cut my hand. Sister Catherine nodded, her expression a mix of sympathy and disappointment. She gently cleaned and bandaged my wound, her touch surprisingly tender. Then, as she worked, she began to speak, her words revealing a startling connection. "You know, I knew your mother, Andy," she said, her voice softer now. "She came here when she was pregnant with you." I blinked in surprise, the mention of my mother catching me off guard. "You knew my mom?" Sister Catherine nodded, her gaze distant as she continued to treat my hand. "Yes, she sought refuge here during a difficult time in her life. She was carrying you then, and we provided her with shelter and support." I was overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. My mother, who had been the source of my earliest memories, was connected to this mysterious place in ways I couldn't have imagined. It was as if St. Michael's had been a part of my life since before I was born. As Sister Catherine finished tending to my hand, she offered me a reassuring smile. "Your mother faced many challenges, Andy, but she found strength here, just as you will. You're not alone in this journey." With her words, I felt a newfound sense of belonging, as if St. Michael's Church and Orphanage held the key to unlocking the mysteries of my past and the enigmatic shadows that seemed to follow me. I left the medical office with a bandaged hand, a swirl of emotions and questions whirling in my mind. The connection between my mother and St. Michael's was a revelation, but it also deepened the enigma surrounding this place. As I exited, another nun entered, giving me a tender smile as we crossed paths. As I rounded the corner of the doorway, I stopped to tie my shoe, the mundane task providing a brief moment of distraction from the mysteries that had unfolded. Unbeknownst to the nuns in the medical office, I overheard their conversation as they spoke just inside. The younger nun, her voice tinged with curiosity, asked Sister Catherine, "Is that boy the son of the woman who was here eight years ago?" There was a pause, and I could almost feel the weight of Sister Catherine's memories as she spoke. "She was a troubled soul, Mary. She struggled to follow the rules of this place. It was a challenging time for her." My heart sank as I listened to the conversation. It seemed that my mother's presence had left a lasting impression on St. Michael's, and her struggles were still remembered by the nuns. Curiosity gnawed at me, and I couldn't help but stay a moment longer, my ears straining to catch every word. Sister Mary hesitated before finally asking, "And what about the basement? I've heard rumors that she went down there." Sister Catherine's response was stern, and she cut off the conversation abruptly. "We do not speak of the basement, Sister. It's forbidden." I strained to hear more, my curiosity pushing me to listen. However, the nuns' conversation seemed to have ended, and I couldn't risk being caught eavesdropping. Scurrying away from the doorway, I made my way down the corridor just as I heard the nuns start to exit the medical office. The mention of the basement only added to the growing list of mysteries surrounding St. Michael's, and I was determined to uncover the truth, even if it meant breaking the rules. During the next class, I found myself sitting next to Michael, the ever-present sense of curiosity gnawing at me. The events of the past days had only deepened my need to understand the mysteries of St. Michael's. I leaned toward Michael, my voice a whisper. "Michael, can you tell me more about these rules Father Mat mentioned?" I asked, my eyes narrowing with intrigue. "Why shouldn't we stare at the statue during mass?" Michael hesitated for a moment, his gaze darting around the room. Finally, he leaned in, his voice barely audible. "Andy, the rules are... they're strange, but they're meant to protect us. Father Matthias says they keep us safe from things we can't understand." I nodded, absorbing his words, but my curiosity wasn't satisfied. "What about the rule for the confessional booth? What does Father Matt mean that things could seem.. ‘different’?" Michael glanced at me, his expression troubled. "In the confessional, Andy, you have to be careful. It's like... like a doorway, and if you're not careful, things can change. Always look around when you leave a confession.. if something’s.. off, you’ll know. Just shut your eyes and go back inside." My heart raced at the cryptic answer, but I pressed on, my voice trembling slightly. "And what about the basement, Michael? I heard the nuns talking about it, and it seemed important." Michael's face turned pale, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He seemed reluctant to speak, his eyes avoiding mine. "The basement, Andy, it's... it's a place we're not supposed to go. It's off-limits for a reason. It's not safe." My curiosity burned brighter than ever, and I was determined to uncover the secrets of St. Michael's. But Michael's reaction to my question about the basement left me with an unsettling feeling that some things were better left unexplored. Despite the growing unease that hung over the church and orphanage, my determination to understand its mysteries remained unwavering. That night, my mind was filled with questions, curiosity burning like a fire within me. I wanted to learn more about my mother's time at St. Michael's, about the creation of the rules, and about the secrets hidden within the forbidden basement. Determination fueled my desire to uncover the truth. As Michael and I settled into our beds, the room plunged into darkness, the only source of light being the faint glow of the moon seeping through the curtains. The quiet of the night surrounded us, broken only by the soft rustling of the bedsheets. I couldn't sleep. Restlessly, I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, my mind consumed by the mysteries that lay just beyond my grasp. And then, in the dead of night, I heard it—a new voice, soft and haunting, echoing from the hallway outside our room. It whispered my name, trying its hardest to lure me out into the unknown. “Andy… come out and play… Andyyyy,” the voice cooed playfully. My heart raced, and I lay frozen beneath my blanket, my breath held. The voice continued to beckon, “Andy, come out. We can talk about your mother. I know all about her, Andy.” The door to our room unlocked from the outside, and it creaked open just a crack, letting in a sliver of the eerie, moonlit hallway. My instincts screamed at me to stay hidden, to resist the lure of the voice, but the desire to know was overpowering. I considered emerging from my hiding place, my curiosity threatening to overwhelm my fear. But instead, I chose to remain hidden, hoping to catch any information the voice might reveal. Slowly, the door inched closed and locked once more, and the voice retreated into the darkness of the hallway. With bated breath, I lay in my bed, my mind racing and my heart pounding. The secrets of St. Michael's were no closer, but I knew that the path to uncovering them was fraught with danger and uncertainty. Eventually, exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by the whispers of the night. Little did I know that this restless night would be nothing compared to what [St. Michael’s](https://www.malevolentsin.com) had in store for me…

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pb3u2/i_was_an_altar_boy_when_i_was_younger_we_had_a/

nosleep

MalevolentSin666

I am the daughter of a Tik-Tok family channel. I found something disturbing in our basement.

It started with my bruises disappearing. I became the proud owner of a black eye during cheer practice.  One of our flyers, Britney Carlisle, punched me in the face during our outro, and it took some serious self-control not to start screaming like a baby. Britney may have looked like she couldn’t hurt a fly, but she had a mean right hook, even if it was an accidental flailing of her arms when she had been caught in the music and the heat of the moment. I knew my face was fucked from the look on coach’s face when she handed me frozen peas wrapped in a towel and tried to smile—but her supposed smile kept widening into a grimace. It was bad.  This sucked because according to my mother, I was not allowed to get a bruise—especially on my face. Robbie, my best friend on the sidelines, made it very clear that the bruise was bad. When I’d grabbed a makeup mirror and risked a glance at myself, he was right. It *WAS* bad. This thing was worse than eye bags. In the changing rooms after practice, I remember trying to smile through the pain in my face which was slowly spreading to my eye and the back of my head. I tried to hide it with makeup, but it somehow looked worse. So, I gave up. I didn’t think about the bruise until I was walking back from school a little later. The pain was gone, and it didn’t really hit me until I was video-chatting with Robbie, and his expression crumpled, inclining his head like a confused puppy. “Holy shit, how did you fix your face?” I paused, my gaze flicking to my reflection in the camera. I wasn’t a fan of looking at myself. When I video chat, I minimize the screen and scroll through Instagram, or search for a YouTube video to watch on mute while Robbie talks about moon landing conspiracies. I didn’t mean to look at myself. I had trained my eyes not to look too hard through a camera because all of my flaws were present—and Mom always had something to say if I did not look perfect. I have a makeup routine, as well as two skincare rituals before I go to bed and wake up. But it’s not enough. I don’t look as cute as I did as a little kid. I’m a lot rounder in the face, and apparently, I’ve been putting on weight in my cheeks.  Mom has been using filters on my face since I was a little kid, and now I can’t take my real reflection seriously. “What?” I frowned at my pale face and slightly half-lidded eyes from a sleepless night. In the camera, I looked the same as I always did; light brown hair pulled into a ponytail and minimal makeup.  I winced at the state of my hair. I forgot to brush it after practice, so it was a mess in my face. Mom usually filmed my siblings and I coming home from school and made it clear we couldn’t look a mess. We had to look picture perfect for the camera. I made a mental note to fix myself up. I didn’t understand what Robbie was talking about until I found myself gingerly prodding under my right eye before the thought slammed into me, something ice cold crept its way down my spine. I had a bruise, I thought dizzily.  Coming to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk, the sound of traffic flying by collapsed into a buzzing white noise in my head. So, where was it? *“Dude, what happened to your battle scar?”* Robbie’s voice joined an endless buzzing blur of nothing inside my skull. I remember feeling foggy-headed, his words not quite registering. *What bruise?* Was on my lips—only for me to remind myself that Britney Carlisle had punched me in the face not even two hours earlier. I had sat in the nurse’s office with a bag of peas pressed to my face, downing Tylenol with a can of coke, and complaining of a striking pain that was not going away. So, how did I forget? How did I forget the pain that was very much real? Several things had happened between the hit and walking home presently.  I went to grab my things from the changing rooms and ended up talking to a girl about a concert she was planning to go to. I definitely had the bruise then, because she commented on it, making a joke that I wouldn’t be the face of the squad for a few days.  Then I started my trek home. Nothing had changed, and yet it felt like something had. I remembered changing out of my cheer uniform and pulling on my sweater, but looking down at myself, my head in a daze, I was still wearing it. Robbie was still expecting an answer, his laugh pulling me from reverie. “Hey, are you good?” He peered at me through the screen, and I could glimpse his mother in the background pottering around.   I noticed she kept twisting around to look at the camera, and I had no doubt she was discreetly listening in on our conversation. I told him yes and played it off like I was hiding it with makeup so I didn’t confuse him even more, but when I delicately grazed my fingertips under my right eye which I was sure had been a bulging yellow bump, courtesy of turning my coach’s face a whole new shade of pale, my skin looked normal. I searched for any hint that I had been hit, pressing my fingers over my eye and waiting for that pain I knew had been real. I knew it was real because the bag of frozen (now melting) peas was still in my backpack and I had been relieved of my captain duties until my face was better. It wasn’t my choice to become captain. Mom has a lot of influence with both her job and her Tik-Tok account, so most of my life since I started middle school has been documented on her channel. **Currently, she’s private, so her channel is not visible.** Maybe that’s a good thing, though. Robbie didn’t look convinced, though he nodded and smiled. “Hey, I gotta go, all right?” He gestured to his Mom standing behind him with a disapproving scowl. “I’ve got homework.”  His eyes said something different, however, and I nodded and promised to call him back later. We had a code of sorts.  If Robbie pulled a face and wrinkled his nose, his mother wanted him to get off his phone. Robbie’s Mom wasn’t a fan of me, and I guess I could see why. She called me a superficial doll behind my back when she thought I wasn’t listening. It should have stung.  I mean, it did sting.  But part of me understood her. I had to look perfect on camera—and if a strand of my hair was out of place, my mother would drag me out of the room and tell her followers that I was having a bad day, or that I was sick. The worst part is having to “wake up” wearing makeup. It’s a 6am start every morning, with Mom pulling the three of us out of bed and then making breakfast for her “What I eat in a day” Tik-Toks. Initially, I thought they were fun.  That was until Mom started insisting on me having a single banana for breakfast, instead of my usual Nutella on toast. When I commented on it, she explained it was because I was getting puffy cheeks. I looked for people on her TikTok’s commenting on my lack of breakfast, but most of her followers were people in our town, who only gushed about our so-called good looks, and that we were a very attractive family. These people didn’t see the protein shakes my brother is forced to drink every morning to stay healthy (they look and smell like barf) and the three of us being weighed every Friday night. Luckily at school, I could eat what I wanted. I made sure to pile my plate with as much junk as possible and then threw it all back up straight after. It’s not Bulimia. I am fine with my eating. I just don’t want Mom to see that I’ve eaten too much. I was still prodding my nonexistent bruise when my phone vibrated, and a text popped up from coach. **Can you bring in your pom-poms tomorrow? I know you’re on the sidelines, but Mickey needs them.** I had no idea how I was going to explain the sudden disappearance of my bruise. I supposed I could tell her I was using a new brand of concealer. Mom gets makeup sent to her from brands, so it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that I’d used it on my eye. When I rounded the corner of our cul-de-sac, I pushed my phone back into my pocket and dumped my backpack on the ground, unzipping it, and pulling out my brush and makeup bag. I could see my brother ahead of me, already rehearsing his entrance through our front door.  I could see from the way he was practically dragging himself up our driveway, that Mom had already made him do it multiple times. Mom especially liked it when I wore my hair loose, so I spent five minutes brushing and styling it, touched up my makeup, and strode toward our house. My brother had already walked in, so it was my turn. I pasted my usual smile on my face—and walked straight into Mom’s iPhone, already filming every inch of me at every angle. “Here’s Zoey!” Mom was using her fake voice again. I hated her fake voice.  “So, as you guys know, or if you’re watching this for the first time, this is my seventeen-year-old daughter, Zoey!” She followed me into the kitchen, where my brother was lounging on the counter, and my sister sitting at the table, her head in a book. These were the personalities we were urged to use in videos since they get more views.  Ben is seen as the “lazy” child because he made it his goal not to be in front of her camera, while Allie had read a book once—and now she was known as “the smart one” in the comments, so every time the camera was on her she had to be holding a book. Off camera, it’s the opposite. Allie secretly vapes and has a boyfriend she hasn’t told Mom about, while Ben prefers to bury himself in literary classics while cementing himself as the joker of the three of us. I dropped my backpack on the ground while Mom buzzed around me, asking me how school was. I told her my usual answer. “It was pretty fun!” Because I wasn’t allowed to say anything else. I caught my brother’s panicked look in the corner of my eye. He shifted on the counter to angle himself so he could get a proper look at me. Allie peeked behind her book. I had a bad day a few months back and made the mistake of saying, “It fucking sucked.” So, Mom abruptly stopped filming, before pulling me upstairs to my room and lecturing me on camera etiquette and good manners for almost four hours, before dragging my siblings into it. Neither of them had forgiven me for that slip-up. “I had a great time,” I decided to play up for the camera. “I got an A in social studies, and cheer practice was so fun!" I raised my arms, like she had taught me, mimicking my routine. I could feel my brother and sister silently judging me, their gazes burning right through my skull.  I was lying, of course. I got a C minus. And I got hit in the face at practise.  I gingerly prodded my right eye, feeling for the bruise that was no longer there. But Mom didn’t care.  It was declared on camera, so it was real. Thankfully, Mom wrapped up filming quickly, abandoning the three of us. I could already tell she was itching to edit and post the footage. Life returned to my siblings’ faces once she was gone. Allie threw her book on the table with a scoff, and Ben slid off of the counter on his usual hunt for snacks, standing on his tiptoes to get to the candy in the top cupboard. I jumped up to grab myself a snack, and remembering Mom’s rules about my eating, I grabbed a banana from the countertop, peeling it a little too violently. My phone vibrated. It was coach, once again telling me to bring in my pom-poms. I lost my current ones at an event out of town, but my middle school ones were hanging around. “Where did Mom put my old cheer uniform?” I asked my brother through a mouthful of banana, leaning against the counter. My brother turned to me, already with a sly smile. "What was *that*?"  I already knew he was talking about my cringe worthy dancing. "The commenters like it." He pulled a face. "Do they enjoy barfing too?"  I settled him with a glare. "My cheer things," I said, again, "Where are they?"  Ben shrugged, throwing me a Snickers bar. “Basement, I think.” He spoke through chewed-up chocolate, giving me an unflattering grin. I let the candy bar bounce off of the wall, reaching for another banana. I could tell my brother knew I was hungry. He'd caught me purging one time, and I had insisted it was the stomach flu. I knew he didn't believe me. In the viewer's eyes, Ben was this lazy ball of bedhead, offering minimal conversation and snoozing in the background. The real Ben, however, was your average disgusting teenage brother with no pride. Mom didn’t like that side of him, however, urging him to keep to his “camera personality” when she was filming.  So, at any chance he could get, Ben liked to remind us he wasn’t the cardboard cut-out with zero brain cells Mom turned him into. “Close your mouth!” Allie groaned. But she was smiling, relieved the three of us were off camera. She picked up her book and motioned throwing it at his head. “I will throw it at you,” she narrowed her eyes with a playful smile. “Close your mouth. Psycho.” “I dare you to try,” Ben shot her another chocolaty grin. “You know what happens if we get a bruise—and this face has to stay perfect.” “You look like a tumor, Mom doesn't care about your face.” She raised the book. “Close your mouth, you’re disgusting!” “That’s not nice.” He stuck out his chocolatey tongue, and my sister gagged. “I’m not joking around!" Allie got ready to volley the book, and my brother jumped back with a laugh. "This is abuse!"  "Not if you're an animal!"  He shot her a pointed, yet slightly panicked look. “Okay, soo are you going to explain my black eye, or do you want me to tell Mom you threw a book at my head and gave me a concussion?"  Ben’s words reminded me of my disappearing bruises, and a chill skittered down my spine. Allie’s lip curled when it became clear she had lost the argument—as usual. Instead of retorting something, she buried her head in her arms with another exaggerated groan. I made a point of turning to Ben, gesturing with my banana. “I’m not allowed to eat chocolate at home. You know the stupid rules." My brother tipped his head back and grinned, tearing through his own candy bar like an animal. “Your point?"  “My *point*,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Mom will kill me." He straightened up, his expression hardening.  “I sneak chocolate into my room all the time, I'm not going to tell her,” he said, and then turned to Allie, “Neither will our little sister.” “I’m two months younger than you, idiot,” Allie grumbled into her arms. “You guys can pig out as much as you want. I won’t tell a soul." she paused. "Because she will kill us– and I'd rather live to see twenty one without seeing our mother's wrath." The sincerity in their voices tightened my gut.  I didn’t say anything to either of them, but I did take the candy bar my brother handed me on the way out of the kitchen, only to shove it in my skirt pocket when Mom glided past me, her eyes glued to her iPhone.  Usually, she had eagle eyes.  From 4pm to 7, however, our mother was blind. She was already swiping through her video comments. “Sweetie, dinner is in an hour,” she hummed to me, her gaze on the screen. I nodded and made a quick getaway, slipping through the basement door. Clicking the light on, I blinked in the sickly glow coming to life around me. It was freezing cold, and I shivered, my bare feet slapping on concrete steps as I made my descent. Our basement was nothing special, just a glorified wine cellar. I could see my cheer pom poms poking from a box on the ground, but my attention had already been caught by an ancient-looking television in the corner—and next to it, a plastic box full of old tapes.  Mom used to be a teacher, so I figured the television was used to show students educational videos.  Still, though, why was it in our basement?  Curiosity was getting the better of me as I found myself drawn to the box of tapes. I reached in and pulled one out. The tape itself was battered and labeled with, **“Zoey (V.1)** playing in the backyard and **(V.2)** middle school.”* scribbled in black marker pen. *On VHS tapes, though?* DVDs were outdated already, but these old-style chunky tapes?  I found it hard to believe Mom was documenting our early childhood on these fossils when things like phones existed while I was growing up. Blowing a layer of dust off of the tape and inserting it into the player, I pressed a bunch of buttons I didn’t understand. The player worked like a YouTube video, with the same symbols. So, I pressed on the Play button. Galvanic blue washed over my face, illuminating the wall behind me, and the tape flickered to what looked like my backyard. The picture was pretty good. The sun was shining in the sky and my little self was sitting on the back wall, kicking my legs with a wide smile.  I was wearing bright red boots, my fingers caked with dirt.  I could feel my own smile tugging at my lips.  Mom was right.  I was so cute.  There was no sound on the tape, though, which I thought was odd.  It was just me giggling and waving at the camera. I was waiting for something to happen, maybe my siblings to appear, when I saw it.  It started as a shadow that I thought was part of the film. It was an old tape after all. But when it started to move, morphing into a humanoid figure, I felt myself starting to move back, my breath catching in my throat. The shadow bleeding into the frame suddenly had proper face.  Mine.  It was an exact replica of my little self. Its smile was the same, with wide eyes and waving arms. It wore the same bright red boots, dirt cakes between Its nails. I watched the replica climb onto the wall before pushing me forward, and my original self burst into a reddish mist before even hitting the ground. The tape flickered, an array of color bleeding into the film, staining the footage. It was red, like it was bleeding. In a cut, I saw the replica jump off of the wall and run forward toward the camera to wipe away the red smear on the lens.  The tape didn't stop. It switched to an older version of me. This time I was in middle school. I remembered the exact classroom. I remembered the faces of the kids around me. Robbie sitting at the front throwing pens at the wall, and Britney doodling in her textbook. I was sitting with my head buried in an old copy of Percy Jackson. *Where was the camera?* I thought, my gut twisting into knots.  I didn’t remember Mom filming this. The tape flashed blue once again, and I blinked rapidly before it switched back to my middle school classroom. There was no sound. I saw it once more, a bleeding dark shadow creeping through my classroom door, and then growing a head and torso, arms and legs. This time it embodied my twelve-year-old self, right down to the scratch on my knee I remembered getting during recess. This time the replica was not smiling. She strode over to my desk, grabbed me by my hair, and pulled me to my feet. She shoved me violently, and I stumbled back, once again exploding into a darker red, which splattered on my desk. The replica calmly took my seat and used the cuffs of her sweater to wipe away the mess my original had made. The footage kept going, switching between snapshots of random footage. Then it flashed to my high school changing rooms, and something sour crept its way up my throat. **4 hours ago.** I saw myself changing out of my cheer uniform, and the bruise under my right eye. The bruise I thought disappeared. *No.* I started to crawl backward, but my gaze would not leave the screen. I couldn’t breathe suddenly, all the breath dragged from my lungs. The changing rooms were empty, and I was humming the exact song from earlier, the one I'd gotten in my head from some kid mockingly singing it in class. I pulled my brush from my backpack, and tugged out my ponytail, humming the tune.  *Ring around the Rosey.* I started to sing with each stroke of my brush. Movement behind me.  I watched the door open slightly, a blurred figure slowly stepped inside. It was a darkness dressed in human flesh, at first. I saw its eyes slowly coming into fruition, static buzzing in the pupils, twined around the iris. Wearing my cheer uniform, she was an exact copy of me. This time though, her face was perfect. There was no bruise, her ponytail perfectly tied up, every strand pinned in place. When she took a step forward, I noticed she was shaking. Her hands formed fists by her sides, her perfectly made-up lips curving into a scowl. The me on the film paid no attention to my shadow self, brushing through her hair, wincing at the movement stretching the bruise on her eye. *A pocket full of Posey’s.* I watched myself blink in the mirror and try and smile, prodding at my eye again. *Ashes.* *Ashes.* She started toward me in a dance, her arms thrusting out, lips stretching out into a maniacal grin. Once the two of us made contact, I followed my earlier kid selves, bursting into that same cloud of red mist which was darker, this time, staining the replica’s sneakers. **Turn it off.** The words entered my head, and I was lunging forward to do just that-- when the tape this time flickered to a different setting. This time it was outside. I was staring at a sea of black, patches of grass, and beautiful flowers. I thought it was a wedding, and then I saw the coffin being lowered into the ground. I saw my mother in a perfectly pressed black dress, sobbing, on her knees.  She was screaming, unearthly cries rattling through the TV’s speakers. I didn’t recognize any of the faces swamped around her. I started to lean closer to the screen to look at them up closely, when the tape flashed to mesmerising blue, switching to the middle school classroom, my high school changing rooms, our backyard, and finally, to me. Something snapped inside my mind, and clarity came vivid and fast, pushing away the brain fog.  I didn’t know those faces because they… they were not my family. I was paralyzed to the spot. The TV screen blurred before flashing three different colors like it was impatient.  It once again showed me my classroom and our backyard. And it hit me that I didn’t know either of them. I didn’t remember any of those memories, despite a presence in my mind telling me I did. I did not sit on a wall when I was five years old, and that middle school classroom was not mine. This time my face was swamped in the exact same light from our basement. I saw my present face staring, wide-eyed, at the screen. There was a twitch of movement in the grainy picture. The thing with my face moved slowly, flickering in and out of existence. I stared down at my hands in my lap, and then at my right wrist. I was not allowed to look. Not with so many eyes on me. Hundreds of them. No.  *Thousands.* But I let my gaze flick to my skin, where my name has been printed on my flesh in blocky letters. It had always been there, a stray thought that was not mine entered my mind. *I just wasn’t allowed to look.* Just like I wasn’t allowed to look in the corner of my eye, or behind me in a dark room. *Zoey. V. 1,678.* I could feel a striking pain in my head suddenly, a scream that was not mine, and yet sounded like mine, rattling in my skull. It clawed at my throat, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, phantom bugs filling my mouth and skittering down my spine, burrowing under my flesh. She was so close. But she wasn't alone. I could hear my brother 's sobbing. I could sense her shaky breath tickling the back of my neck. Ben's cries grew louder in my ear, reverberating from the walls. I was frozen. I couldn't move. Couldn't turn around. “You idiot,” she said in a growl. *“You broke character.”* Two sets of slimy hands were on my back. I remember the feeling of them shoving me violently. I didn’t remember stumbling or falling. Just their hands. And Ben's sobs, his heaving breaths on my back. Darkness. It came fast, enveloping me, before spitting me back out again. I woke inside my room, blinking rapidly at the stars on my ceiling. I had slid back to consciousness with that same clawing, monstrous screech in the back of my throat. It wasn’t mine. But it felt like mine. It felt like a scream I had been holding in and pushing down for years.  The window was dark. Night. How many hours had passed me by?  Immediately, I turned my attention to my right wrist. I was not supposed to look, and just glancing at it hurt me, twisting my body and boiling my brain. *I wasn't supposed to look.* The marking was still there. *Zoey. V. 1,679.* The more I stared at it and drank this thing in, I felt progressively sicker, a part of me I didn’t know existed slowly coming back into fruition. Before I could stop myself, I barged out of my room and downstairs. I could hear Mom and Ben in the kitchen. “What is this?” I didn’t bother warning her that I was stepping in on whatever she was filming. I marched over to my mother and held up my wrist. I felt like I was going to be sick.  “Those tapes in the basement,” I hissed out. “What are they? Who are those kids who replaced me?" "Wait, what?" Ben raised a brow, his gaze flicking to Mom's phone. "Is this for a video?"  I didn’t realize I was hysterical until I could feel hot tears slipping down my cheeks and salting my lips. I was sobbing when Mom froze up, her phone slipping from her hands.  Ben, who was sitting next to her, sent me a *What the fuck?* look—but I was only focusing on his wrist. I grabbed it and yanked up his sleeve, but there was nothing there.  I peered at my brother’s hand and scratched at his skin with my nails.  Still nothing.  "Zoey, what are you *doing*?" Ben's eyes were wild. "Have you lost your mind?" Ben pulled away with a hiss. He opened his mouth to start yelling at me when Mom calmly got to her feet and turned to me with what looked like an explanation on her face, which crumpled suddenly, her eyes widening, her lips forming an O.  Mom clamped her hands over her ears and shook her head, her body trembling, a scream erupting from her mouth, which morphed into a wail that almost sent me to my knees. It was powerful, and painful, ringing in my ears.  Ben tried to calm her down, but she wouldn’t listen. Mom wasn’t blinking. She was just screaming, her lips pulled into a terrifying grimace. “Mom.” I managed to get out through a sob.  “Mommy, it’s okay!” I wrapped my arms around her and cradled her to my chest, motioning for Ben to join in. He did after a reluctant glare, tangling his arms around the both of us. “It’s okay, mommy,” I whispered into her hair.  “I won’t ask any more questions, okay?”  The words coming out of my mouth were **not** mine but they were working. Mom’s sobs were turning lighter, and her body had stopped heaving against mine. She reached around me to press me and Ben tighter to her. I was pressing my face into her hair and mumbling that I was never going to leave her when something twitched in my peripheral. It was moving, a silhouette morphing into something real, something latched onto reality. I looked up, squinting my eyes. It wasn’t a shadow or a monster bearing my face. It was Ben. The thing wearing my brother’s features was dishevelled, half of his hair shaved off, a bloodied jacket that I had never seen before hanging off of his shoulder. I could see that same galvanic blue light in his eyes. The flickering static from the VHS tape. He dragged himself closer to us, blood spattering the floor tiles and slicking his feet, every movement creating more pooling red. He was bleeding from every orifice, from his nose and mouth and ears, blood soaking through his jeans and torn-up shirt.  The thing made eye contact with me, his previously sleepy frown twisting into a grin. I could feel myself starting to pull away from my mother, but my eyes were glued to Ben. The real Ben still had his head buried in Mom’s chest, murmuring reassurances to her. Except I could see his jerking arms like he was trying to let go of her—but couldn’t.  Just like me.  I didn’t want to hug this woman who both felt like my mother and also didn’t. I wanted to get away from her. I started to say my brother’s name in a choked hiss when the replica standing in the doorway slowly raised his finger to curled lips. I could see ink printed on the inside of his wrist. *Ben. (V. 1,674.)* I opened my mouth to speak to him when he pointed across the lounge, and I followed his gaze. There was something squirming on the couch. A body-sized lump twitching, moving from side to side. I could hear its muffling now that I was allowed to hear things properly. It was screaming. No, not an It. He. He was screaming. “Mom.” I managed to whisper. I tried to pull away but her arms were suddenly locked around me, suffocating my breath. “Who is that on the couch?” "What?" Ben surprised me with a whimper, his voice shaking. "What do you mean?"  Mom’s hug around us tightened. *Tighter.* “Mom,” Ben’s cry came out in a panicked hiss. “Mom, you’re hurting us!" *Tighter.* She started screaming again, but these wails were tragic, sobbing, her hold crushing us to her chest. Mom's cry felt like it was living, a sentient thing snaking around us.  Black spots invaded my eyes, dancing in my vision.  Something wet and warm slid from my lips, and Ben made a choking sound. He gasped out for air– air that she wouldn't let us have. I felt myself go limp in her arms, my head hanging, my eyes flickering.  *Tighter.* The last thing I saw was Ben's replica peeking behind the wall, hollowed-out eyes penetrating mine. He was laughing, his bloodied grin growing wider. And wider. When I awoke for the second time, the window was lit up with early morning sunlight. I had my hands wrapped around my throat, and the number on my wrist had changed. *Zoey (V.1780)* When I remembered how to breathe again, I turned to my alarm clock. 7am. “Zoey! Breakfast!" Mom’s voice filled me with poison, and once again a thought that was not mine took center stage inside my head. She is not… She is not my mother. No. No, she is my mother. I had a whole life of memories with her… right? Ignoring my skincare ritual and my makeup routine, as well as the rule that I had to stay in pajamas until the “What I eat in a day” had been filmed, I eased my way down the hallway, hammering on my brother and sister’s doors. Ben appeared after a minute, his face smeared with skin cream, and then Allie, freshly showered. I thought they were going to understand that something was wrong, that we were all losing time, and something was wrong with our mother. “I need to talk to you.” was all I managed to get out, only to get confused looks in response. “Now,” I bit out. I could still see Ben’s bloodied replica in my mind.  If that was a different version of him, when did *that* happen? I waited for them to get ready, standing outside their rooms. I think part of me was terrified they were going to get replaced while I was standing there. I found my gaze idly flicking to the numbers on my wrist. That had already happened to me, though. I was a different Zoey. After ten painful minutes of waiting, the two of them finally appeared. Allie had pinned her hair back with rollers, while Ben, per Mom's request, looked like he'd just rolled straight out of bed. “What is this about?” Ben spoke through a yawn. “By the way, what was up with you last night?” Something twisted in my gut.  “What do you mean?” My brother shot me a look, and whatever he was about to say was cut off when Allie shoved past us. “Move aside, slow pokes. Jeez, I’m not getting any younger!” When she was bumbling down the stairs, Ben moved closer to me. “You know what,” he rolled his eyes. “Last night, you were fucking peeking behind my door. I told you to leave, but you didn’t move, Zoey.” He shuddered.  “Dude, it was like you were possessed. You stood there for hours. I just shut the door on your face." *“Possessed?”*  The word hung in the air when we descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. Mom was already filming herself making breakfast, while Allie had slumped down at the table and pulled out her book.  I started forward to take my usual seat, but something froze me in place. There was another teenager sitting at the table. The guy was a sleepy-looking brunette stirring his cereal into a soup, leaning his chin on his fist, eyes half lidded, lips parted into a small smile. When he caught my eye, his mouth formed a scowl. The boy leaned back. “I’m not moving,” the boy grumbled. He turned to Mom. “Zoey always sits here. It’s the best seat, and I have back problems." He narrowed his eyes on me. "I'm taking *medication*". “Zoey,” Mom murmured, her focus on frying eggs. “Can you let your brother use that seat this morning?” I took a slow step back, her words were like knives stabbing into me.  “What?” Mom didn’t turn around.  “Do not argue with me, young lady. You know Nick has back problems. Just let him have the comfy chair.” **Who?** Ben jumped into a seat opposite the new guy and immediately leaned over, poking the guy in the chest. “You abandoned me last night,” he said. I searched for questioning in his eyes, but he was smiling, drinking in this boy like he had always been here. “What happened to staying up all night and speed-running classic Sonic?” The guy didn’t look up from his cereal. “I fell asleep.” Ben folded his arms. “Yeah, well you could have texted me!” "You never answer your texts, and I banged on your wall three times." My brother reached for a plate of avocado toast Mom had put down, and  she slapped his hand away. "I was listening to music! You know I chill out after I finish my homework."  “Boy fight.” Allie grinned behind her book. She shot me a smirk, only for her expression to crumple. “Zoey, it’s just a chair,” she said. “You’ve gone pale.” I couldn't respond to my sister without screaming.  There was a stranger in our kitchen who I was supposed to call my brother. It hit me at that moment. If I was going to figure out what was going on with my family, I had to be exactly what Mom wanted me to be. So, I smiled at my supposedly *new fucking brother* and made a point of saying I felt very sick. I even dramatized gagging.  When Mom felt my forehead, she nodded and said I could go to my room. But I didn’t go to my room. I slipped down to the basement and went back to the box of plastic tapes. There were a bunch of new ones that I knew could not have been made that fast—and yet they had. This time they were labelled: “Nick. (V.1).”  I am currently hiding in our garage with the Nick tapes. I'm too scared to watch them. I want to know what is going on, but I also don’t. What I do know is that I don’t think this woman is my mother, and whatever she is doing to us is documented on those video tapes.  Is there someone I can call who can help me?  I need to get out of here.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ootzo/i_am_the_daughter_of_a_tiktok_family_channel_i/

nosleep

Trash_Tia

Records From A Research Assistant: The Mission In The Rain

[A Mission](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/qjwp3f/im_a_research_assistant_with_some_stories_to_tell/) Cursed Tapes: [Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/115ba99/the_cursed_contest_tapes/) [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/11d7unm/the_cursed_contest_tapes_part_2/) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/13nnw6c/the_cursed_contest_tapes_part_3/) [Another Mission](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1492den/im_a_research_assistant_with_some_stories_to_tell/) Cursed Tapes: [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/152fo0p/the_cursed_contest_tapes_part_4/) [Part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15zz8ql/the_cursed_contest_tapes_part_5/) ​ We finally got a connection here. The ones in [Malcolm’s](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15sjokl/they_came_with_the_rain/) house seem to be sparse at best. The day after my last post, I got a text from Dean. ​ ​ “We’re heading out in a few days. Pack light.” ​ ​ We have to keep information given over the phone vague in case of hackers or spies. The next text I got from him was when he'd be picking me up. It had been a while since HQ put me on a field mission so I made sure to double-check my preparation list. We’re required to use specific code words to signal if something is serious. Dean hadn’t so I only packed the usual. ​ ​ HQ would provide additional supplies. I have to say, being forced to wake up at the crack of dawn when you’ve settled firmly into the nightlife is all kinds of miserable. Before I left, I shot Brice and Sheila a text explaining I’d be away for a while. I know it worries them when I go on these missions, but work is work. The morning of the mission, I woke up to him honking outside. ​ ​ Grabbing my things, I headed out. I put my suitcase in his trunk, then got in the passenger seat. When I was in, he backed out, and we began heading down the road. "How'd you sleep?" "Not well." "I figured." "Yeah, I've been busy. Sorry, I haven't called lately by the way." ​ ​ He gave me a sideways glance. "Don't be. We've both had our hands full." "I know but still." An awkward silence hung between us. I cleared my throat. "So, what do you think we're dealing with here?" "We aren't entirely sure yet. All we know is that the signal is genuine. It's not a prank or anything like that." "I guess we'll see when we get there." "Yep." ​ ​ I wanted to use my phone until we got to where we were going, but thought it inappropriate. We chatted for a while, mostly about trivial stuff, new movies we'd seen, hobbies we were considering, things of that nature. This went for most of the drive. ​ ​ "Are you still seeing Maryl?" "No, we decided things weren't working out." "Oh, that sucks." "That's how it goes sometimes." ​ ​ I can't say I was surprised. For as long as I had known Dean, he never struck me as the romantic type. Sure, he'd be attractive to women, but nothing ever lasted long. It made sense given our line of work. The fewer people you hold close the better. ​ ​ "What about you?" Dean asked, interrupting my thoughts. "What about me?" "Have you been seeing anyone?" "Oh, no, I mean. There was this one cashier who I thought might've been flirting with me." "Why didn't you make a move?" "I didn't feel like it." ​ ​ Dean opened his mouth to reply and then stopped. ​ ​ "Is something wrong?" "No, it's nothing. How are Brice and Sheila?" "Fine, he came to my place the other day so that was fun." "That's good at least. Hey, I could use a pick-me-up. What about you?" "Do we have time for that?" "We should." ​ ​ Dean pulled into a McDonald's Drive-thru where we ordered some biscuits and coffee. The caffeine was a godsend for me and a nice change from energy drinks. ​ ​ "Oh, by the way, we've been doing some field research." "On what?" "Radio waves, I don't fully understand it, though. Stevenson is spearheading the project." "I thought he hated being outdoors?" "He does, but he's also the most qualified for this. I never have gotten along with him." ​ ​ I'd only met with Stevenson a handful of times. If I had to describe him in an adjective it would be standoffish. Not only that, he also had a habit of not considering the opinions of others unless they were above him. ​ ​ “Well, hopefully our interaction with him is kept to a minimum,” I said. “You can say that again.” ​ ​ We reached the airport not long after where some seats were already booked for us, coach. HQ likes to save wherever it can. At the very least, it gave me a couple extra hours of sleep. It wasn’t great, still better than nothing. I woke up to an attendant shaking me awake. ​ ​ With my little power nap and the caffeine finally kicking in, I was feeling halfway decent. After getting off, Dean groaned. ​ ​ “What have they got in those seats, cement?” he asked, cracking his neck. “You should’ve brought a neck pillow too.” “Yeah, I keep forgetting to get one.” “Where to now?” “Someone should be waiting for us out front.” The person waiting for us turned out to be none other than Stella who was sitting on the front of her truck with some apple fritters and some iced frappes. “When did you get here?” Dean asked. “About half an hour ago.” ​ ​ She offered us drinks and fritters. Dean refused. I didn’t. ​ ​ “Thanks,” I told Stella. “We just ate,” Dean said. “You’ve been saying I need to eat more.” “Whatever, I’m riding shotgun.” ​ ​ He looked at Stella. “Unless you want me to drive?” “I’m good. We still have some time before HQ is supposed to contract us so how about we do some sightseeing? I passed a hiking trail on the way here.” ​ ​ Stella turned to me. ​ ​ “You look like you could use more sun.” ​ ​ I couldn’t dispute that. Until then, the closest I’d gotten to nature was the once-a-week night walk around my neighborhood. Before going to it, we stopped off and got some feed for the ducks. As an aside, you’re not supposed to feed them bread. Apparently, it makes it harder for them to fly or something. ​ ​ As I said, it had been a while since I’d been out in the field with Dean. It had been even longer since I’d been out with Dean and Stella, especially since we came across those tapes. It’s strange. On one hand I don’t like having my research on them interrupted. On the other, it does feel good to be away from them. ​ ​ I know they’ll be waiting for me when I get back, though. It was approaching noon when we were contacted. I had engaged in some casual conversation with Stella and then left her and Dean alone to get caught up. I was walking, lost in thought when some squirrels came onto the path. They skittishly searched the ground presumably for some food. ​ ​ Watching them, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of their minimal awareness. They operate mainly on instinct with not a care in the world other than the occasional predator. Meanwhile, it's always in the back of my mind. We'd also gotten some snacks. In my case, I grabbed some almonds. ​ ​ The squirrels must have been accustomed to people feeding them because the moment I pulled out my bag some were already trotting to me. I gave them a couple handfuls. As soon as I did, the ducks came, expecting a helping of their own. Luckily for them, I had some feed in my other pocket. The symphony of quacks was interrupted by Dean calling my name. ​ ​ "HQ just contacted us." ​ ​ He noticed some ducks nibbling around my shoes and let out a brief chuckle. In retrospect, I suppose it did look kind of amusing. I dropped the last of my food to the animals and then followed Dean. ​ ​ "They've booked us a hotel near the distress signal location." "Motel 6 again?" "No, Super 8." ​ ​ At least we'd be getting complimentary breakfast with our bed bugs. As I was lying in bed that night, I found myself wondering how Brice and Sheila were doing. Then I wondered when I last thought of them up until then. I couldn’t even remember the last time I reached out to them instead of the other way around. Why had it taken me this long to realize this? ​ ​ We aren’t allowed to make leisurely calls while on the job. Yes, even though I was about to sleep it was still under HQ’s dime. The loophole to this would be if someone was receiving a call. We’re encouraged to accept them when we can to keep up appearances. Brice and Sheila know of what I did and never called me while I was away in case they might catch me at a bad time. ​ ​ While it made sense, I found myself hoping they’d break this rule just that once. My phone remained silent other than the occasional unrelated notification. Before I drifted off, I made an e-note to get them some souvenirs if I could. That night I know I dreamed. However, I can't recall what it was about. ​ ​ I can only remember the vaguest of details like conjuring up the memory of a flavor. All I can say about it is that there were dark shapes and voices. Why does my heart race whenever I try to think about it? What am I doing? I already have enough to worry about without getting sidetracked. ​ ​ Dean and Sheila were already having breakfast in the lobby when I was finished getting ready. By the time I got there, most of the stuff was picked over. The former's plate was your classic breakfast, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a hash brown with a cup of coffee. He's already eaten most of it. Stella's plate was mainly eggs with a bit of sausage, a cinnamon-roll-flavored premier protein shake, an apple, and a grapefruit. ​ ​ "You better grab something fast. They'll be closing down soon," Stella told me. "Didn't you just sit down too?" "This is my second plate. I have to get my protein in, you know." "Eggs I understand. Grapefruit, I don't." "It's good for the skin." ​ ​ I shrugged. ​ ​ "Fair enough, let me know when it's time to leave." ​ ​ I settled on making some bacon, egg, and cream cheese bagel sandwiches. To drink, I grabbed a bottle of Minute Maid. I sat at another table and got on my phone to pass the time. Dean and Stella were talking. I wasn't paying much attention, though. ​ ​ I think Stella was telling him something about rice water being good for the hair. Brice and Sheila do post online, not under their real names. It's mostly just different events, food, clothes, and pictures of their pets. I saw they posted something new. They’d found some puppies. ​ ​ “Do you see something funny?” Dean asked me. ​ ​ I didn’t even realize I was smiling until he said something. ​ ​ “No, I saw this.” ​ ​ I walked over and showed them the post. ​ ​ “Cute little things, Leonberger retrievers if I had to guess,” Stella said. “Since when did you become a dog expert?” Dean asked her. “Farm girl, remember? We had a bunch of dogs roaming around.” ​ ​ I let her scroll through the picture. ​ ​ “And the post says they’re wanting to give them to a good home.” ​ ​ Stella smirked at me. ​ ​ “I’ll talk to them about it when I get home.” “Thanks, Zane, you’re the best.” ​ ​ Hopefully, Brice and Sheila will still have one to spare if and when we get out of this. We headed straight to the distress point after finishing up. There, a team was waiting for us. Among them was one of HQ’s heavy hitters, a muscular man the size of a mountain. He was leaning against one of the armored vehicles, smoking a cigarette. ​ ​ “Hey, Mick, how’ve you been?” ​ ​ He looked at us and grinned. ​ ​ “Dean and Zane, it’s been a while.” ​ ​ Mickey originally oversaw firearms training before eventually being promoted to head of guard duty. At least, he was. ​ ​ “Shouldn’t you be patrolling the facility?” Dean asked. ​ ​ Mickey grunted in annoyance and let out a puff. ​ ​ “No, I got demoted because of the escape incident. The bigwigs lost their shit over that one.” ​ ​ Dean, Sheila, and myself were away from the facility during that time. From what we heard,[three prisoners](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/sfv36c/weve_seen_some_weird_things_on_the_road_part_33/) managed to escape with the help of one of our doctors who was released months after. There hadn't been a disaster that bad at the facility since over a decade before I was born. ​ ​ “Sorry to hear that,” Dean said. ​ ​ Mickey’s demeanor brightened. ​ ​ “Don’t go feeling sorry for me. Sure, the pay’s not as good, but at least I’m not cooped up inside all day.” ​ ​ He looked at me. ​ ​ “Speaking of, you look like you could use some sun.” “Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot lately, so where’s the signal’s origin?” “The labcoats are using one of Stvenoson’s devices to try and pinpoint the location. Once they have it, we’ll go there. In the meantime, we got some extra weapons. Help yourself. By the way, isn’t Stella supposed to be with you two?” “I already helped myself.” ​ ​ We turned to see Stella walking over with a rifle strapped to her back. ​ ​ “You haven’t changed a bit,” Mickey said as they shook hands. “How’ve you and Ginger been?” "Great, we'll be getting a new puppy soon." "Well, isn't that cute? Gunner's still going strong." ​ ​ They chatted for a bit, while Dean and I went to get some weapons. Despite my line of work, I'm not big on guns. Although, I do have one for self-defense. We each grabbed a handgun, Dean grabbed a desert eagle while I grabbed a magnum. Then we got some cartridges and speedloaders. When I touched the bullets, I instantly drew my hand back. ​ ​ “What’s wrong, Zane?” Dean asked, concerned. ​ ​ “It felt like I was touching someone’s fingers,” I replied. ​ ​ “Oh yeah, that’s the special ammo,” Mickey explained/, “It’s from Stevenson. He got some kind of special [dagger shard](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ztcb4p/we_spent_most_of_the_holidays_in_another_dimension/) from a town somewhere. I don’t know how it works, but we managed to replicate it and use it to enhance some of our weapons. The supply is limited so don’t go wasting them.” ​ ​ Even though it still felt weird to touch, we grabbed the ammo along with some emergency supply kits. I examined the special kind and noticed it had the letter “S” carved into it. By the time we were done, the signal’s location was finally pinpointed. ​ ​ “Alright, time to move out,” Mickey ordered. ​ ​ Each of the vehicles got a radio. Mickey’s truck led the expedition with Stella’s at the back. We didn’t know exactly what we were looking for, most likely some kind of portal. I’d never dealt with a dimensional rift before. I learned about accessing them when I was younger. ​ ​ In short, it requires using a special device to match a specific frequency with one that has already appeared in a location. It’s easier to do with ones that have appeared recently which is why took a while for us to find it. ​ ​ “We’re picking up on something up ahead,” Mickey’s voice crackled over the radio. ​ ​ Everything looked the same, then there was a ripple in the air as if it was water that was hit with a stone. Being that it was my first time dealing with one, I made sure to stay alert.. We passed through and on the other side was the hardest rain we'd ever seen. ​ ​ "I can hardly see a thing," Stella said as her truck's windshield wipers moved back and forth. ​ ​ Dean turned on the radio. ​ ​ "Mickey, can you see anything up ahead?" "No, what's with this rain?" ​ ​ We continued on in silence. All we could see was the road, railing, and a surrounding forest. Then we heard Mickey yell. "Oh shit." ​ ​ What followed next was a chain wreck. Something appeared in front of Mickey. He crashed into it, causing the truck behind him to rear-end his bumper. This ended with Stella's truck slamming into the second last vehicle. She screamed out a curse before Mickey's voice sounded again. ​ ​ "Everyone alright?" ​ ​ While we were only in a pickup truck, Stella had modified it to be more durable over the years. We all confirmed that we were fine and then Dean asked what happened. ​ ​ "There's some cars on the road," Mickey said. "It's packed with them." ​ ​ Since there were also trees, off-roading wasn't an option either. ​ ​ “I guess we’re walking then,” Dean said. “Stella, do you have any umbrellas in here?” “I got some ponchos under the seats.” ​ ​ I reached down and grabbed them. ​ ​ “Do they all have to be pink?” I asked. “You got a problem with pink?” Stella asked. “No, but it’s not exactly an inconspicuous color.” “That’s why we have those.” ​ ​ She gestured to the gun holstered around my waist. Once we put them on, we stepped out. Stella grabbed her rifle from the truck, then we made our way to Mickey and the others. They’d put on black Panchos. With his face shrouded in one, he looked like if the Grim Reaper hit the gym. ​ ​ “Well, Well, if it isn't the bubble gum squad,” he said upon seeing us. “How’s the truck?” “There’s a few few dents. They should buffer out, though,” Stella replied. “Fantastic,” Dean interjected, “so how about we figure out what the hell’s going on here?” “Some kind of weather anomaly?” I suggested. “Well, we won’t find out by staying put,” Mickey responded. ​ ​ He barked out an order for everyone to move out. The cars gave off an eerie sensation. It was as if something compelled those inside to stop and get out all at the exact same time. Checking them didn't reveal much at first. ​ ​ “Wait,” I said. ​ ​ Mickey told the others to stop. ​ ​ “What is it?” ​ ​ Going up to one car, I glanced inside. ​ ​ “The stuff in this one has been picked over,” I said. “That means someone came here after everyone else was gone.” “Then it looks like we’re on the right track,” Mickey replied. “Hopefully, they’re still kicking.” ​ ​ While we moved, I glanced down and noticed a [phone](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/14fsq9t/the_storm_is_getting_closer/) on the ground. Even though it was damaged and probably wouldn’t even come on, something compelled me to grab it. What we ended up reaching was a town. It seemed to be as empty as the cars we passed. ​ ​ “Which way now?” Dean asked. ​ ​ Mickey pulled off a pair of binoculars from his belt. ​ ​ “I see a neighborhood. I say we head there. Maybe whoever sent the signal is holed up in their home.” ​ ​ As we walked, I got a bad gut feeling. I wasn’t the only one and everyone made sure to have their weapons ready. We’d made it about halfway to the neighborhood when were met with absolute hell. I spotted the first of them, peeking out from over the roofs of buildings surrounding us. When dozens followed by hundreds more appeared, my heart thundered. ​ ​ “Look out,” I yelled right as they pounced. ​ ​ We managed to scatter before they landed on us. Although, they pinned down several agents. They varied in appearance. Some were furry. Some were scaly. ​ ​ Some were like amphibians. Some were bipedal and others crawled on several legs. What they all had in common was that they were huge. ​ ​ We wasted no time in opening fire. This only seemed to annoy rather than hurt them and they let out different cries to show it, so loud they could even be heard over the gunfire. ​ ​ “Switch to the special ammo,” Mickey hollered. ​ ​ We did so with much better results and soon the monsters were a pile of corpses. ​ ​ “Everyone alright?” Mickey asked. ​ ​ There were some injuries among us. Luckily, they were easy to treat. All in all, things were pretty straightforward. Then I looked off in the distance. There were more of them. ​ ​ “Guys,” I spoke up. ​ ​ They saw them too. Compared to what we were seeing now, what we just faced may as well have been a schoolyard scrap. Even Mickey was shaken up. ​ ​ “Let’s move it,” he ordered. ​ ​ We were out of there like frogs dropped in a boiling pot. Beelining through the forest, we headed to the neighborhood. Even that far, we could hear them and they were rapidly approaching. In getting caught between a rock and a hard place fashion, there were more of them up ahead. ​ ​ “This is just fucking perfect,” Dean said a bit shakily. Under my poncho, I could feel beads of sweat pouring down my face. “Does anyone have any flashbangs?” Stella asked. “Good thinking,” Mickey replied. ​ ​ He ordered the others to throw some and pulled out his. They threw them and we all made sure to cover our eyes before they went off. Luckily, the plan worked, or rather, it worked somewhat. The grenades did stun the creatures just not long enough for most of us to slip by. In fact, it was a slaughter. ​ ​ The only ones who made it away were myself, Mickey, Dean, and Stella. Unfortunately, we weren’t far behind. That was until we heard a door open behind us. There was a man there and he urged us to come in before the monsters noticed. Good thing they weren’t smart. ​ ​ The man introduced himself as Malcolm and then asked who we were. Upon learning how and why we got here, he let out a defeated sigh. ​ ​ “I guess I underestimated those things. Sorry to have dragged you all into this,” he said. “Don’t be. It’s part of the job,” Mickey told him. “So does this mean we’re all stuck here?” I asked. ​ ​ None of us wanted to consider the implications of that question, but it wasn’t as though we could simply ignore it either. ​ ​ “For now,” Stella said, “At least we got some supplies.” “Well, make yourselves at home I guess,” Malcolm replied. ​ ​ We’ve been stuck here for almost a month now. I swear I find myself reaching for my gun every time I hear those things get close to Malcolm’s house. The only possible clue we have to figure this mess out is the phone I found. We’ve been working on repairing it. However, it’s slow work given our limited supplies and the fact we need to keep noise to a minimum. ​ ​ Oh well, we are still alive so at least there’s that. In the meantime, I’ll be uploading this from my own phone as soon as we have a connection. Hopefully, we find out what’s going on. This is [Zane,](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesFromRose/) logging [out.](https://www.threads.net/@rose_black2222) ​ [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16w0tca/records\_from\_a\_research\_assitant\_the\_game\_in\_the/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16w0tca/records_from_a_research_assitant_the_game_in_the/) (Why is it fascinated with me?)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pkqv8/records_from_a_research_assistant_the_mission_in/

nosleep

RoseBlack2222

24 hours of my life are missing – I'll never know what happened

Back in 2011, I was 21 years old, fresh out of university and living in the capital of the Philippines, Manila for some months. I interned at a peacebuilding NGO, while also playing semi-professional football (soccer) in the country’s national league. A strange combo, but both roles are relevant to the story. My experience starts one rainy Saturday afternoon in November. Football was cancelled with a waterlogged pitch, but already downtown on my way to training I decided to visit a fruit market listed in my Lonely Planet guide (this was pre-ubiquitous Google maps days, at least in Manila). I must have looked lost, as two Filipino women – one middle aged, one early 20s – approached me from behind, raising their umbrella over my head and asking where I was headed. After some friendly chit-chat, it came to pass, (without my prompting) that they had lived in the same neighbourhood that I’m from in London, England. A strange coincidence, and one that lowered my guard. They offered to take me to a better fruit market, one that required a taxi to reach. Naive, trusting and nervous about offending I got in this taxi, leading me through the winding, maze-like back streets of a Manila slum. We exit and I’m utterly lost in an unfamiliar part of this sprawling city (remember, this is pre-Google maps and ridesharing apps), leaving me at the mercy of these women. With no fruit market in sight, they plead with me to come into their nondescript, low-rise home for food and drink. My youthful naivety and reluctance to offend once again get the better of me. Whether due to trauma or time, I really can’t remember what the inside of this place looked like, but I do remember it was dingy, had a TV with karaoke hooked up, and there was a man waiting when we arrived. Realising what a sketchy situation I was in, I was conscious of anything they gave me to drink, watching them open the beer bottles in front of me. A couple of drinks in, the Karaoke was flowing. I felt physically fine but deeply uncomfortable, vulnerable and trapped, and was waiting for the opportunity to leave. A tray of BBQ meat was brought out – always associating drugging with drink, not food, I had very little concern over eating it. The naivety of this would become instantly apparent. Putting this pork into my mouth, it had a strange medicinal flavour – but it would be too late before I connected the dots. My final memory that day was the younger woman, uncomfortably close to me, holding a microphone and flirtatiously singing the chorus of *Hey Jude* by The Beatles (“nahhh, nahhh, nahhh nah nah nah nahhhhh”) while I drifted off, unable to keep my eyes open. I have virtually no memory of the next 24 hours of my life. I would wake up in a darkened room in the middle of the night 1,000km south of Manila in a city called Davao. To be clear, this Davao trip was one that I had previously scheduled for work, leaving the day after this incident. Still, to this day all I remember of the journey is waking up and seconds of sitting in a taxi on my way to the airport. I passed through customs, boarded a plane, collected my baggage, met my colleagues, and was driven to our work office/apartment – all with zero memory of doing any of this. My colleagues didn’t suspect anything was wrong with me, mentioning later that I just seemed tired. It took some hours after waking up to piece together where I was and what had occurred. $200 had been withdrawn from my bank account, but I still had my wallet and phone. While I can’t be certain, I concluded that I had been fed a drug popular in the Philippines called Ativan. I read similar stories of people being spiked, functioning relatively normally, becoming pliable, but having no memory of the incident. This would explain how I withdrew $200 while seemingly unconscious. To this day I feel deeply uncomfortable at what may have occurred after I passed out – particularly with the behaviour from the younger woman towards me just before I passed out. But those 24 hours of my life are gone, and I’ll never know what happened. To the two women in Manila who drugged and robbed me, let’s not meet.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jsar4n/24_hours_of_my_life_are_missing_ill_never_know/

LetsNotMeet

almac26

On a Foggy Mountain Road

This is a true story detailing something that happened to my wife and I 3 years ago. So my wife and I lived in a renovated pool house on my uncles property, up in a secluded posh neighborhood in the mountains of so-cal. The community was quiet, given the economic status of the residents, and the fact that it was several miles up the mountain, far away from the urban neighborhoods. The community was also gated, keeping it even more secluded. That being the case, the only real traffic was people who lived in the community comming up to their Mc' mansions. There are two ways up the mountain, one approach from the south, and one from the west. Either way, you must drive several miles up narrow, windy, one-lane roads that both lead up to these razor back ridges, in order to reach the community gates. For those who don't know, a razor back ridge is a narrow ridge with steep 100 foot, or more drops to the bottom. Sorry for the long details, but I promise this is all important. So one night wife and I are hanging out with family who live down the mountain in the san-bernardino valley. We are there till about midnight, then decide its time to get home. We start driving and as time goes on the houses and street lamps get more sparse, and the darkness encroaches as we hit the base of the mountains. As we start to drive up the mountain the street lights are absent, and the lights of houses are gone, nothing but darkness and our two headlights. About half way up a fog starts to develop, nothing too uncommon for the area, just a little dangerous given the windy roads and how late at night it is. People have literally driven off the windy roads and died in the valleys below, even when there wasn't fog out, so i slow down and stay extra attentive to the road. The steep part of the ascent was over, and we reached the razor back ridge, just a few more miles till we get home. When we reach the top of the ridge the road levels out, and the fog grew thicker, limiting my visibility to 100 feet or so. Suddenly i make out a large shape in the fog and catch the reflection of my headlights bouncing off a mirror surface. I slowed down and came to see a new silver Mazda crossover in the road. The car was not merely parked in the shoulder or even in the traffic lane, it was literally in the middle of the road. The back half of the car was in the lane opposite us, and the front half was in our lane, as if someone had come from the opposite direction and veered onto our side and just stopped there. This is particularly odd because that either means someone came from our community several miles further down the way, or had driven all the way from the other approach up the mountain bypassing our community, which is the only thing really up there. In either case, it made no sense for someone to be coming out this way at this time of night, and to have stopped their expensive car at this point in the road. Furthermore, the car was empty, lights were off, doors were all shut, the car was not running, and nobody was nearby. There were no flashlights shining, nobody calling for a lost dog, no flat tire, no houses or trails nearby, just the road, the fog, the silence, the cliffs, the empty car, and my headlights As i slowed down and absorbed the scene the only thing i could think was "this is a trap" and every horror movie and survival video game i played told me that bandits or creepy creatures were gonna pop out soon. That being the case, i retrieved my handgun and stopped the car but didn't put it in park. My wife was also taken back and muttered "what the heck is this?" I said i wasn't sure and that i was gonna call out to see if they needed help. Despite the creepyness, part of me still thought there was a rational explanation, and that someone needed help. I cracked my window a bit and listened. No voices, no engine running, no wind, just the barely audible soft hum of my engine which goes into eco-mode when stopped. "Hello! Is anyone there?" Nothing... "do you need any help?" Nothing. I started to clench my pistols grip tighter, and moved my finger slightly closer from the slide to the trigger, anticipating an attack. Still, nothing. After having been there about a minute in total i said the dumbest thing in my life, i actually thought, and said "you think i should get out and investigate?" my wife looked at me like the dumbass i was and said "this is creepy lets go". I still feel dumb for saying that and as it left my lips i realized i was sounding like some generic horror movie extra about to get killed in the first five minutes of the film. At that point i realized it was time to go and i started to slowly drive around the car, scanning for movement in the fog and the vehicle. Again, nothing. We finished our drive home and talked a little and went to bed. For the next week i checked Facebook community pages and local news for anything connected to it, maybe a missing person report or a missing dog alert, or even just other people who saw the car, but nothing came up. I drove that path dozens more times at that hour but never saw anything like it again. I still don't know what that was about, and still cant rationalize it without copping out with the "it was just an elaborate prank" excuse, which honestly seems impossible and ridiculous as well. To be honest it seems like the road was intentionally blocked, but I do not know who would intentionally block a road with a very expensive car on a windy dangerous Mountain Road in the middle of the night in the middle of severe fog . Still a strange and creepy mystery to this day. I will be posting another true story soon from a coworker of mine. I shared this story with her and she related hers, which had some similar elements.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jskl3a/on_a_foggy_mountain_road/

LetsNotMeet

[deleted]

Scary Bus Creep Followed Me Home at Night

Back when I was attending a university, I used to work on campus at one of the dining halls during the dinner/night shift. I lived in the next town over, since it was cheaper to live in a crappy little apartment out of town than to live on campus in the dorms. But I didn't own a car, so I had to take the bus. One night, I had just gotten off a shift at work. My feet were killing me and I was completely exhausted, as I slowly made my way to the bus stop. I noticed a man much older than me sitting on one of the two benches at the otherwise empty bus stop, but I didn't pay too much attention to him. I simply sat down on the second bench, and listened to some music while waiting for the bus to arrive. The first sign that things were starting to get weird was when I kept noticing out of the corner of my eye that he was staring at me. At first, I thought I might be imagining it. So I looked over and caught him quickly turning his head to look away. Okay, so he WAS staring at me. This wasn't completely out of the ordinary, since being a young college girl seemed to gain me a bit of attention from older men. So like usual, I just ignored him. That was a mistake. Again, out of the corner of my eye I saw him look at me. But instead of just staring this time, he got up and walked over to sit next to me instead. I continued listening to my music, hoping that he'd see the earbuds and take the hint that I wasn't interested in having a conversation. Instead, this man literally took the earbud out of my ear. "Hey there, sweetheart." He said as my head snapped to look at him in shock. I should've told him off for touching my things and demanded he leave me alone, but I was sort of frozen, and didn't want to make him mad. "Uh...hi." I replied quietly. He started introducing himself as Mike, and telling me that he lived in the area and it was always nice to see pretty girls like me at the university bus stop. He explained that he was a real man, unlike the boys I went to school with, and that I should go home with him that night. I was a shy, scared, virgin who had never had a man be as bold as this to my face. I say "to my face", because I had certainly gotten my fair share of unsolicited private pictures online by that point, but I digress. I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't. But that didn't stop Mike from continuing to explain to me all of the "fun things" he wanted to do with me at his place that night. He got into graphic detail. The things he described started out with basic things you'd expect, and escalated to him asking if I liked being choked until I turned purple and passed out in bed. I wished there were ANYONE else at that bus stop. But it was just the two of us, in the dark alone, as I counted the seconds until the bus would arrive. Then Mike took things to a different level of shocking by telling me, "Listen, the demons want me to ask for your phone number, and they say you should give it to me or you won't like what happens." He actually had the audacity to start stroking my hair. His hand was gentle, but I didn't want him touching me at all. This was shocking for a number of reasons. The demons? I wouldn't like what would happen? Why was he touching me? What the hell was this guy talking about? As though he could read my mind, Mike went on to explain, "My therapist knows the demons are real. I told her about them and she says I'm not crazy and the demons are real." He laughed, then abruptly stopped. "Now give me your phone number like they said." He demanded, and as his hand stroked my hair for the last time he stopped and gripped the back of my neck, still gentle, but even more terrifying. I was scared, and obviously didn't want him to have my phone number. But he was taking out his phone, and I knew that he was going to call the number I gave him to make sure I wasn't lying to him, and he still had his hand on the back of my neck, so I reluctantly gave him my real phone number. Stupid, I know. But I was right, and he immediately called to check. All I could think about was just not making this guy angry long enough to get away from him, then I'd block his number. Thankfully, the bus came moments later. I sat down as close to the front of the bus near the bus driver as I possibly could, since the bus was basically empty. Mike decided to sit directly across from me. At this point, I had tried listening to music again, hoping that being on the bus and him having my phone number would signal to him the end of our conversation. However, he decided to reach over and unzip my sweatshirt, revealing my work shirt and the name tag which I had unfortunately forgotten to remove in my haste to leave work that night. I hadn't told him my name yet. "Abigail, what a beautiful name. Our daughter will be named Celeste." I shouldn't have been shocked at this point, but I was. I had stopped listening to music again and zipped my sweatshirt back up, which made him laugh. "You won't need that soon, anyway." He said, and winked at me, implying how he'd planned to undress me even further that night. At one stop, Mike tried to convince me to get off the bus with him. I told him no, that I was tired and just wanted to go home. So he said okay, and stayed on the bus. I knew that had been his stop, so the fact that he was staying on the bus worried me. I was sure this meant that he was planning on coming home with me instead. "Baby," Mike whispered to me. I tried to ignore him, but he repeated himself louder, "Baby!" He had the most unsettling smile on his face as I asked, "What?" He laughed and told me, "The demons say you smell nice." I was terrified, and felt like I was going to throw up by the time my bus stop arrived. I lived in an apartment alone, and didn't want him to know where I lived. Despite my body being exhausted and sore from work, adrenaline kicked in and I bolted off the bus and ran straight home. I made it inside and locked the door. I looked through the peephole and didn't see him, so I went to carefully peek out of my window, and saw him standing near the bus stop, looking around. He took out his phone, and sure enough I started getting a call from an unknown number since I hadn't saved his number. I ignored it. When he hung up, I started getting several texts, asking where I'd gone, how he didn't like hide and seek, and how the demons just wanted to have fun but I was being a little bitch about it. I was so scared, because he knew which apartment building I lived in, where I worked, where I went to school, my phone number, and my name. The only good thing which made me feel slightly relieved was that he didn't know which specific apartment number I lived in. That's when he started yelling outside. There were no specific words said, just wordless yells of what I can only assume were frustration and anger. I blocked his number, and kept all the lights in my apartment off as I cried with my back to the front door. Maybe I should have called the police, but my brain was so frazzled that I didn't even think of that until the next day, and by then all I knew about him was that he was a mentally unstable man, probably named Mike, who hadn't actually done any physical harm to me, so I didn't think it was worth it. In hindsight, I know that I made a lot of stupid mistakes during this experience. I ended up moving away entirely at the end of that term of school for unrelated reasons, but until then I switched to day shifts at work and was paranoid every night. Thankfully, I never saw the man again, though. So Mike, the scary guy from the bus stop who tried to follow me home, I never want to meet you or your demons ever again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jrk9ly/scary_bus_creep_followed_me_home_at_night/

LetsNotMeet

peskybird01

I May Have Stumbled Onto a Snuff Film. Need Some Help Investigating It.

Tl;dr: I can’t believe how long this ended up being. Lady brings tape to police station, shows me a clip she filmed on her phone of murder, looks legit to me. 99.9% isn’t. ​ I’m a cop [https://imgur.com/a/avTFkmz](https://imgur.com/a/avTFkmz) who works in a major city in Australia. This whole weird story started this Monday when I was working the station’s front desk. Our command is in a pretty rough area, so even around lunchtime on a weekday the place is packed. Most of the people waiting in the lobby were there to report on bail and that demographic tends to look how you would imagine. But there was one woman who stood out from the rest of the queue. It wasn’t just her lack of face tattoos, it was because she looked nervous. When it got to her turn, the first thing she said was that she might need to talk to a detective. That’s usually a pretty good icebreaker in this profession, and my notebook was out right away. I explained that she could talk to me first and I would see what I could do. Cops over here are a bit less jumpy about people pulling black objects out of their bags than they are in the States but I was still surprised when Jennifer took out a VHS tape and slid it under the glass. She told me she wanted to play me a video on her phone but having sat through enough people struggle to load up security cameras or endlessly search for the relevant piece of footage, I find it quicker if victims tell me first before they show me. It took a few minutes to get the story out of her, because she seemed to go back and forth between being utterly horrified and then embarrassed and apologetic about wasting police resources on what she said was probably nothing. Basically, she told me that a couple of months ago she had been jogging around her area when she passed a whole bunch of furniture and personal items strewn on the green area of the footpath (sidewalk) outside a house. Over here that means it’s garbage to be picked up by the council (though judging by how much stuff there was, she assumed it was actually there waiting for a deceased estate disposal company) but people walking by can pick through it if they want. She saw a box with a VCR in it and she came back later with her car and took it home. She was going to check if it worked and try and flip it on eBay. It ended up sitting in her cupboard for two months before she finally got around to testing it. She had bought a random tape from Vinnies (thrift store/charity shop) but when she tried to insert it she discovered there was already a tape left inside the VCR, one labelled, “S.E.C. Camera Club”. According to her the tape begins with a woman tied to a chair inside a room. The cameraman walks around her before pushing the camera uncomfortably close to the tied up woman’s face. You can hear him panting heavily throughout and the tied up woman’s pleading. At this point the woman at the counter told me she had assumed it was just some weird pornography and had begun fast-forwarding to get to the nudity (I would not have been so honest myself). She then passed me her phone and told me to tell her what I think. She also told me to keep it on mute since she really didn’t want to hear it again. She had filmed about 30 seconds of her TV screen and the original video was grainy and blurry anyway so what I saw was pretty obscured but I got the gist. I actually wrote this paragraph last because it’s making me feel kinda uncomfortable thinking about it and how to put it into words, I’m like 99% sure it’s fake and I’ve technically seen gorier things in Hollywood movies and video games but it seemed so real to me. Anyway, you see the back of the camera-man and he has a knife and so on. I was honestly gobsmacked, I must have looked like an idiot because I had no idea what to tell her or what to do. In the end, I borrowed her phone and took it inside to my Sergeant’s office (my boss, I’m not sure of the American equivalent, maybe like a Chief?). He basically laughed in my face and said it was fake. He told he’d been a cop for 13 years and been to dozens of glassing and stabbings and there is never that much blood. The cranky bastard then got pissed that I had been spending that much time on a horror movie when the lobby was full. Even before COVID Sergeant’s didn’t like too many ‘customer’ waiting in the station, it makes them look bad. I relayed the news to the lady and she was both relieved and embarrassed. I tried to give her the tape back but she recoiled and told me to chuck it out for her, she didn’t want it. I’ve been doing some research on what could have been on the tape like maybe something from ‘Faces of Death’ but I’ve had no luck. Has anyone seen some obscure mondo film that this could be? The woman and man were wearing normal clothes and it was well-lit. The room’s walls looked like corrugated iron like a shed or barn. Has anyone heard of S.E.C. Camera Club? My google-fu is failing me but I’m assuming it might have been like some underground/garage bootlegging company that specialised in selling exploitation/trash movies or maybe like an experimental artist collective? I’ve got a picture of the tape (since no crime was committed, I didn’t have to book it up in exhibits). Can anyone who knows a lot about VHS tell me if this is a homemade tape or was this the type that big companies or movie studios released? There are no like serial numbers or anything on it. The lady at the counter only watched a portion of the tape, out of morbid curiosity when I find a VCR that isn’t ridiculously overpriced (Seriously, I can’t believe these fucking prices for an obsolete format. No wonder she wanted to sell the machine online) I’ll finish watching it and update you guys if anything else happens. I'm not tech saavy so I probably won't be able to convert the tape directly into a digital file but I can film my TV like the lady did and upload it to like Youtube or something. When I think camera club, I think of like some amateurs making a movie together whereas this seemed very real and professional but just to reiterate, just because it looks real doesn't mean it is. I'm not saying I'm trying to solve a murder here. I'm just trying to find a piece of obscure media but one that is creepy enough that I think it qualifies for this sub. (I know the post title is click-baity, apologies) I wrote this at midnight here to get it off my chest, sorry if it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Rereading it now, I feel like 20% of this post is just repeating pronouns lol.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jrlkqf/i_may_have_stumbled_onto_a_snuff_film_need_some/

LetsNotMeet

Routine_Section843

I keep getting found on things by someone despite blocking and avoiding them *UPDATE*

If you haven't read my first post about this please go read it, here is the link [https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jfn3zy/i\_keep\_getting\_found\_on\_things\_by\_someone\_despite/](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jfn3zy/i_keep_getting_found_on_things_by_someone_despite/) So I am now 16, turned 16 a few days ago and recently I have been playing games on Roblox with my best friend like murder mystery 2, arsenal, etc and one of the games I play on my own is Adopt Me because I like all the pets they have. I am writing this minutes after it happened, I was playing Adopt Me after my classes since we have short periods for school on Mondays so it was 11:52-ish and now it's 12:07. There was this player who had a variation of my stalkers name with random numbers after, and I stupidly thought nothing of it, instead I thought "Oh it's a pretty common name" which it is, but I couldn't shake off this feeling and then that person kept following me, and I again was stupid, and thought "They probably wanna trade since I have an ultra-rare pet" so I stopped driving but that trade invitation never came. So me being me, I left and went to the campsite since my pet wanted to go there. Everything was fine until I was going back to my home in the game, until that user put "Hey \*My name\*" and I didn't think anything was wrong until I did a double take and realized my name isn't on my Roblox account and on my Roblox account I only have three friends, and all three of them call me either by my alias that I made for my books/future podcast or by my Roblox name whenever we play. I didn't respond to the message, and instead just acted like if I didn't see it, while the other players were asking the user "Who's \*My Name\*" The player then kept on following me around, until I left the game, and even then he sent me a friend request which I denied and immediately blocked That wasn't the only thing he's done since my last update on the story, he found out about this guy I'm talking to somehow (the guy isn't from California) and he told one of his "friends" (I say friends with the quotations because he has yelled at that friend for talking to me or even being near me before, and that friend happens to be a very close friend of mine), and that friend (B) told me what happened, and how he freaked out but couldn't do anything due to the guy not being in California and seeing that he was scary looking to my stalker (the guy is a huge softie so it made me laugh knowing that). After I was told that he had somehow been stalking my followers/followings I blocked people that would know him and possibly let him use their account to look at mine. I updated my brother (legal guardian) and my friends that knew about him, so they would know and even told the guy in case my stalker had the idea to message him and tell him a complete lie. As previously, the stalker had messaged a close friend of mine and told him we were dating (me and my stalker) in an attempt to get my friend to stop talking to me. He even told that same friend that he was going to marry me and that we were going to have two kids (which is a huge lie, because 1. I don't want kids and if I ever do I'll adopt and 2. If I get married it will most likely be to the guy I am talking to right now or to a woman) luckily no one believed him except his friends who were saying that it would happen one day, and to just keep trying to be with me (I overheard once and was disgusted and told two of my friend D and B about it to which they got mad and refused to let him near me whenever he tried to talk to me. Even now we're not in those classes (D and B are still in classes with my stalker) we are still close and they tell me whenever they overhear my stalkers friends giving him ideas. In my last update I left out a piece of information due to me not having the full story, until my friend (B) told me the rest that I needed after it was posted and I didn't want to assume anything or give possibly false information. Rewinding to freshman year, on Valentine's day I found I huge stuffed bear in my math class, and it was on my seat. So I thought someone had left it there, and when the teacher came into the class, I told him that someone left a huge stuffed bear behind, to which my teacher responded "That wasn't there in my previous class, someone probably left it there for you. Maybe a secret admirer" (me and my math teacher have a father and daughter bond so we play around like that) We ended up looking into the packaging cause our curiosity got the best in us, and it had a letter, I still vibrantly remember it because it creeped me out so much. It read " Dear \*My Name\*, It's Valentine's Day, and I wanted to give you something for today. I like everything about you, your smile, your eyes, and your body. You're perfect. I love you." I stayed in for a bit during lunch and gave my math teacher the note which got him creeped out too. We ended up throwing away the note, and I took the bear but met up with a friend (S) for the rest of lunch. She asked who gave me the stuffed bear and said it was nice, I ended up telling her what happened with the note and how I found it, then I gave the stuffed bear to her so she could keep it. You all might ask, why did I give her the bear? Well I have three reasons for that, 1. She has panic attacks and snuggling up to something when she has them helps her go through them so I gave her the giant stuffed bear, 2. I don't like over the top things, and 3. I already have a lot of stuffed animals due to my brother getting me them since I was a baby. My friend (S) still has the bear, and it has helped her a lot so I don't regret giving it away or even receiving it from my stalker (which was not known then) because it helped someone out with a problem. Fast-forward to when I found out the stuffed bear was from my stalker, my friend (B) had messaged me to tell me about my stalker finding out about the guy I'm talking to, and before we ended our conversation he asked if he could call me, which I said yes to. During the call he told me how he's in this groupchat for this class on instagram and how they're all "friends" in that class and that they were sharing things about their previous boyfriends or girlfriends for some reason which my friend (B) and my other friend (D) were not a part of, instead they just looked at the messages. My stalker claimed I dated him, and then said that I didn't want anyone to know but that we did date (we never did and never will). My stalker then continued on to say in the groupchat that the giant stuffed bear that was on my seat in algebra 1 was from him, and that he got so mad at me for giving it to a friend so he broke up with me. I wasn't even shocked that he made up a story of us dating, and when I told my bestfriend (G) we laughed for a bit then decided to contact a lawyer and see if the restraining order could be put and if the police could be involved (I say acab and defund the police but my stalker went too far now).\\ Sadly, I got the news that since he had not been near me since I switched classes and I am no longer in classes with him that I cannot get a restraining order since online harassment and stalking isn't bad enough yet since they've only been friend requests and "Hello \*My Name\*" Which meant I couldn't even go to the police due to it being online and not "dangerous" Sorry if this was a bit too long, I would have shortened it but it would mean more parts and I don't want to annoy anyone trying to find the parts. Also if anyone is going through this or something similar, tell someone because at first I didn't say anything because I thought it wasn't going to get bad but it did and it is still getting worse.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jr6wkj/i_keep_getting_found_on_things_by_someone_despite/

LetsNotMeet

iputthefuninfunerals

moving in my uni house, 1 month in...

So... i’m a french student and i study at a university in the UK. It’s a campus university meaning that the university and all its affiliated building are centered in an area outside of the city. As a second year student, I live in the nearest town to the campus, which is 20mn away by bus/car. The town i live in is relatively nice, even though the North part is much nicer and safer than the south. Me and my 7 roommates live in a 10-bedroom house in the North side. Even though it is a relatively nice town, it is known for sketchy people sometimes hanging around anywhere in the town, and there is an alarming amount of crime for such a small town. However, i was never too worried until now. A couple of weeks ago, i was coming home from a coffee date with a friend of mine. I was on my way home, crossed the street to my doorstep, and as I was pulling my keys out of my pocket, a guy interrupted me. I turned around and a man was standing there. He was probably 5”10 or something, like around 23 years old and wasn’t too built honestly. At first I thought he was a delivery man because one of my roommates was expecting an amazon order she asked me to get for her. He started talking “sorry for bothering you, I saw you walking from over there, crossing the street, you have something attractive in your walk.” At this point I just assumed he was some rando trying to flirt with me. He then asks “are you spanish?” it’s a question i get often and this man didn’t look harmful, so I just answered “no im french”. He then tried to engage a conversation with me by asking me how long i’ve been in the UK for, why do i speak so good English, and what do I study. At this point I just thought it was super sketchy so I was half answering his questions, desperately wanting to get inside my damn house. Suddenly this man asks “is this a house of all girls?” This is what alarmed me. Why would he even ask that to a random girl? So i reply with the truth: “no, we are 4 boys and 4 girls”. He then seems quite unsettled and he asks if i know his friend that used to live here last year and I just say no. He then says he’ll “leave me to it” and to “take care, have a good day” and finishes with “i’ll see you soon” I’m not one to panic easily but when I came home i immediately went to my roommates, let’s call them Brooke and Mia, to tell them what happens. As i finish my story, Mia looks at Brooke and then back to me and I just know something was up. Then Mia goes “2 days ago, i was coming back from the store, and I could sense that someone was following me. At some point he came up to me and he matched exactly the description from the guy who was just here.” Mia, Brooke and I were just plain worried at this point. Mia said “he wanted to talk to me and wouldn’t listen when i asked him to leave me alone because I have a boyfriend, and he left once i got home and shut the door in this face”. This meant that this man, assuming it is the same, followed Mia to this house, and he also was hanging around this place when I came home. When the 4 boys came home, we all told them about what happened, just to make sure that if anything were to occur to us, there was a backstory . Everytime i go out the house and come back i look around to see if that man is around. We never saw him again until a couple of days ago. We received an alert from the student’s union saying that a young woman had disappeared in the south of the town, and they suspect a kidnapping, so they were urging everyone to be careful. We didn’t hear much about it for a couple of days, until they found the woman’s body near the riverside one morning. A couple of hours later, they caught the guy and released his picture. It was that man who was at my doorstep. I think it hasn’t entirely sunk in, what happened - or in this case, didn’t happen to ME- but it’s still disturbing to know that that poor woman could have been me, or even my roommate. Even though the man has been caught, I still look around my bloc whenever I leave home, or when I come home.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jr857r/moving_in_my_uni_house_1_month_in/

LetsNotMeet

SignificantlyFrench

A frightening lunch break

Disclaimer : English is not my native language, so I probably did a lot of mistakes while typing this -sorry about that. Also, sorry if this post is too long. I've never posted anything here so I'm kinda new to this. The story I want to share with you happened 1 year ago, not long after the beginning of the 1st semester. I was 20 by then and I used to hang out near my university a lot at this time of the year because the weather was still really nice and warm, and my university was adjacent to a park. As we had a 3-hours break, a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to eat lunch in the park rather than in the cafeteria. I said yes and we went there. It was a regular school day (probably a Thursday) and the place was filled with kids, students and people walking their dogs (so, not empty at all). It may seem odd to underline this but I rarely go by myself in a park if there’s no one else around because it makes me feel nervous, kind of vulnerable (I’m an overly anxious person, don’t judge me). But, this day, the place was crowded, and we hardly managed to find a place somewhere on the grass for us to sit. We ate, talked and enjoyed the sunny weather for a good hour. After an hour, the park was way emptier than when we arrived, almost all the children had left, and we were quite on our own. As we both wanted to smoke a little before returning to classes (and now that we wouldn’t bother anyone with the smoke), we rolled two joints. I know it's not especially a good thing but it was our little habit when we hanged together (anyway, the past belongs to the past, right ?). I was focused on rolling up when my friend suddenly asked me "Do you see them ?". I looked in the same direction as her but I couldn’t see what she was talking about. She insisted "Those guys, with the bag. They are staring at us". And then I saw them. Fifty meters away from us, two guys (who seemed a little older than us) were standing in the middle of the way, looking intensely at us. They had literally no expression on their face. I’m kind of used to « creepy » men, whether they are polite or much more intrusive (you know, those who follow you in the streets, those who inexplicably stare at you in the bus for 30 minutes, those who won’t leave your side until you give them your number...). It can be really easy to get rid of them but those kinds of encounters are often awkward, embarrassing or worst. So I felt a little uncomfortable, although I wasn't worried. As I kept looking at them, I understood that they were going to talk to us. I asked my friend if she knew them, and she answered no, adding that she hoped they would not come over to say hi. Unfortunately, 3 minutes later, they were right in front of us, smiling. They were 2: the first to talk introduced himself as "Mani", he was a small and short-haired guy who was obviously on drugs (but I wouldn’t know which ones to be honest), the other one was a tall, pale, quiet guy. I can't remember his name (let's call him Steve to make things easier). Mani talked and smiled a lot: he introduced himself and his friend, asked us about our day, praised the warm temperatures -he seemed either unable to shut up or desperately trying to play it cool with us. Before we could even tell them to leave, he invited himself to join us on the grass, assuming that we would be okay with it. As a « welcoming gift », he opened his bag (it was a huge plastic bag, one you would take to do some groceries) and showed us a 4.5 liters bottle of vodka. I couldn't help but judging them (it was like 1pm, in a park, in daylight, so it felt kinda ridiculous to me). His friend handed us a tiny (and already used) paper cup, but we declined the offer, saying that we needed to stay sober because we had classes to attend two hours later. Unfortunately, they had already drank a fair amount of vodka, and they kept insisting until my friend told them "I'm not the type of person who would drink vodka right after lunch. I either drink it on Friday night with my friends, or pass my turn. Don't ask us again." I should tell you now; my friend is not a scaredy-cat at all, to be honest she's the bravest person I've ever met, and she's never uncomfortable in front of strangers. Usually, when she's bothered by a weird guy, she either acts weirder than him to make him feel more uncomfortable, or laughs it off (making jokes and acting friendly until she tells him to leave because she'd rather be alone) or, in the worst cases, she kicks his ass and leaves. So, even if she didn't want their company, she was still unperturbed and relaxed (way more than I was) and it felt good to have her by my side. They must have felt that she was serious because they stopped insisting and instead they started to ask us things like 'Are you students ?", "Do you have a boyfriend ?", "Can I have your number ?" and so on. We were both in a relationship (and not interested in the two of them) but it didn't stop them from flirting. They kept complimenting us in a heavy, unpleasant, clumsy way, and we began to feel embarrassed -we could clearly tell that alcohol was unleashing them. They were annoyingly enticing, openly flirty, and it escalated quickly from sympathetic remarks on the way we were dressed to nasty sexual advances. As I said, we were not interested. But they didn't take "no" as an answer. I was so uncomfortable that I avoided eye contact as much as I could while trying to find a way for us to get out of this situation. At this point, two other guys (supposedly their friends) came and sat with us, even though we didn't tell them that they could. They looked dirty, idle and stoned, and one of them had a scrawny dog full of fleas (not really reassuring) but we kept our thoughts for ourselves. My friend said something like "We should probably go back to college now" but it didn't work the way we planned ; they offered to come with us, claiming that it was not the first time that they crashed classes "just for fun". We replied "No, thanks, we don't want to get into troubles" but Mani insisted again. We declined, he kept insisting, saying "Don't worry. It's no big deal", and suddenly he pulled a gun out of his pants and brandished in front of us, with a proud expression on his face. We immediately stopped smiling. First, because we live in France (carrying guns is neither allowed nor usual) and second, because we felt trapped. The gun looked old but real, heavy and extremely dangerous in his drunken hands. It was not funny anymore. I was genuinely afraid of what would happen next. One of his friends (the one with the dog, let's call him Nick) started to panic, got up and said "Are you fucking crazy ? Don't you know I got heroin on me ?", to which Mani replied "Chill out, there're no cops here.". His friend shook his head and took his bag, ready to get out of here. Then Mani pretended to be aiming at Steve, and he told us, with a big carnivorous smile, that he could totally shoot him without being in trouble. Steve seemed a little nervous. Nick walked away, yelling that he didn't want to be seen with us because it was too risky (and I couldn't disagree). We were in the middle of the day, in an almost empty park, so the scene seemed quite unreal. I just thought "Crap, I've never been this close to a gun, and its owner is a drunk man who doesn't want us to go". It looked bad. He turned towards us, exhibited the weapon and asked for our opinion. "Do you like it ?" "I'm not a huge fan of guns", I replied. "Are you scared ?" "Maybe". I tried my best to hide the fact that I was scared because I didn't want him to notice it and to take advantage of me. Even my friend kept a fake smile on her face to keep up appearances. He quickly put it back in his pants and stared at us for a long time with a wary eye, after what he strangely asked "What did you see ?". I figured he was talking about the gun but I couldn't understand why he would ask such a thing (with such a suspicious tone). He asked again, so I said "I saw nothing" and he laughed. My answer may seem stupid but I didn't want him to feel proud or to give him this kind of power over us (by letting him know that we were afraid of the weapon). I thought it was stupid to carry a gun and to point it at his friend. But he simply kept laughing, and his laugh sounded awful to my ears, like the one of a cold-blooded sociopath. I was so nervous that my hands were shaking. My friend must have noticed it because, all of a sudden, she took my arm and told everyone "Oh crap, we're late. We must go. Have a nice day" before running away. They shouted "Can we have your phone number at least ?" and she replied, without even looking back, "No, but have a nice day anyway!". We never walked so fast to get to classes than this day, even though we ended up not attending to the lecture because our teacher was sick (and we didn't know). We were still so astounded by what just happened that it took us several hours to process. And after that, we avoided the park for a long period of time. So to the drunk, creepy guys of the park who had a gun for no reason, let's not meet again. Ever. Edit: I want to add something because it may be confusing : we had no idea of who they were, what business they were in or what kind of things they could do. We could only make assumptions because, well, some of them were casually carrying hard drugs and “Mani” had a gun, but one thing was sure : they all seemed pretty fucked up as human beings. We could have asked them why they have those things on them but it felt too risky. We were two “defenseless” girls and it felt safer to stay quiet about those delicate subjects. We also never told the police because we had no idea of what proof/evidence we were supposed to give them. I hope it makes sense to you as well.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jq8t9t/a_frightening_lunch_break/

LetsNotMeet

Ares-kratos

Story Request

Hello folks. I recall reading a few years ago a story that freaked me the F out, was wondering if anyone remembers it. A college aged kid and some friends went out onto some rural road in his college town. Basically what happens is a creepy older guy knew his name and after catching him and his buddies on this road, began to stalk him at the college and such to the point that this guy had to leave the college because he was so scared for his life. I hope that’s a good enough description, maybe someone remembers it. One of the creepiest things I’ve read on here...

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jq4gt5/story_request/

LetsNotMeet

[deleted]

This guy followed me to work and home for a week...

So I've recently discovered this page and thought I would share my "let's not meet" encounter. I'm not sure if it belongs here so just let me know if it would fit somewhere better. So I lived in a pretty nice area with my husband and some family friends. We lived there for a few years with nothing "bad" happing around us. It felt like a very safe neighborhood. Now for context I'm a very short white female and I'm considered disabled even though I look fine, but I could never really beat anyone up since my disability has limited my activity severely. Anyways, onto the story. This happened about a year before we moved. I had some stories pop up on facebook of some traffickers that were targeting women and children at a local store that we lived right behind. I was freaked out and so I made it a point to not go to the store without my husband. I still got the news articles about people being followed and grabbed and kidnapped from this store but I felt pretty safe as long as I didnt go anywhere without my husband. I was going to work one day, I worked about 15 minutes away from our house. It was a call center kinda out in the middle of nowhere. There were fields every which way. I worked the afternoon shift and was one of the last people to leave at night. I had to stop and get gas and was a little freaked out because I was scared to go anywhere without my husband but I wasnt going to make it to work and back home so I had no choice. I stopped at the station and was slightly relieved that it was super busy. I got out and started pumping my gas when this big van pulled up in the spot next to mine. A guy got out and started pumping his own gas then he walked around the pump and got in between my car and me. He smiled and said, "Wow your car is so clean, how do you get it so clean?" I was flabbergasted at the question. My car was a mess, it was dirty with bugs and stuff on it. "Why dont you show me how you get it so clean," he reached out to touch me but I jerked back. Another car pulled up behind me and a guy got out. I think he freaked the other guy out because he walked back to his van. I quickly finished pumping my gas and got into my car, locked the doors and sped away. A few minutes later I look out my window and the van is behind me, riding my bumper pretty much. I could see the guy smiling and laughing with some other guy. I was pretty freaked out but figured he was just going to the freeway. We past the freeway but he kept following me. Now I was very freaked out. The only place on this road now is my work. I called my husband but he didnt answer since he was at work. I was freaking out so I just picked up speed and continued to work. I kept looking back and the van was still there just a little farther back. I made it to work. It was a large building with lots of cars in the parking lot. I parked right in front of the doors in a handicapped spot and ran into the doors. I looked back through the locked doors and I saw the guy stopped in front looking pissed. I ran up to my department and went right up to a friend who was ex military. He carried multiple guns on him at all times. I cried as I told him what happened. I got to work and was still freaked out all day. We closed and I was walking down to my car. I peaked out the windows and saw the white van. I couldn't see anyone in there and I wasnt even sure it was the same van. I ran back to my department and told my friend what was going on. He pulled out his gun and walked me outside. The van had now moved to right behind my car. My friend walked me to his car, we got in and he drove me right up to my car. He then followed me all the way home and sat outside until I was inside the house. I could see the van following us but once we got passed the freeway he turned onto it. The next afternoon on my way to work I passed the gas station and the van pulled out. Again they followed me to work but the turned away once I got to the parking lot. This went on for about a week. They would follow me to work, leave then be outside when I was leaving and my friend would walk me out. My buddy told me that they were probably trying to learn my schedule so they could figure out a time to jump me. He insisted I take one of his guns just in case he wasnt there at work to walk me out. I didnt want it though as I was afraid that if I had it then I would get pulled over for something and get in trouble for having a gun not in my name and not having a permit for it. I was telling my husband that evening about how this van was still following me and he suggested that I should call the cops and let them know. I honestly dont know why I didnt think of that. So the next morning when I was about to get ready for work I called. I told them everything. Then I left for work. Just like clock work the van pulled out of the gas station and started following me. We were on the long stretch of road that nothing was on when I spotted a car parked off to the side of the road. I passed and then the can passed and then the lights came on. The van was pulled over. I later found out that the men following me had several warrants for rape and attempted kidnapping. The back of the van had knives, rope, gloves, masks, chloroform and some other sketcy crap in it. The cops believe that I was going to be their next target. When I got to work my friend wasnt there. He was sick. I'm glad I called the cops that morning because I dont think I would have made it home if he wasnt there to walk me out. Anyways that's my creepy story I hoped you guys liked it. It is 100% true. We have since moved out and live in a not as nice area but so far i haven't noticed any creepy people around. But i always carry pepper spray whenever i go out.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jq55pb/this_guy_followed_me_to_work_and_home_for_a_week/

LetsNotMeet

Haunt_chick13

Hide and seek

(I’m not from an English speaking country) I’m a female college student and I live with my family in a an apartment in a big city. Where I come from it’s pretty normal to just go to the college near your house. This happened on a weekend when my family and I had planned a trip abroad but last minute I had an exam rescheduled for that Monday so I decided not to go. So it’s Thursday and my parents and siblings are leaving for the airport and a guy that they usually hire is taking them to the airport. My mom tells me that my maid is staying with me for the weekend and that I should call her if I need anything. I say goddbye and go back to studying. So it’s now Thursday at around 9pm and I’m studying in the living room with my boyfriend so my maid tells me it’s getting late and she’s going to bed so I tell her that I’m going to bed soon too. An hour later my boyfriend leaves. Its now around 10:30 pm and I’m getting ready for bed. I grab my dog (small Yorkie) and take her to my room to sleep with me. So it’s now 11pm and I’m in bed looking at my notes when my dog starts growling at the door, but I tell her to shut up because Yorkers are nervous and bark all the time (at least mine does) so after she’s silent I get this adrenaline rush and stay very still and I hear steps on the corridor. The floor is made of wood so when I hear specific creaks (sounds of wood bending ?) I know the steps are getting near my room. So at first I think it’s probably my maid making sure my boyfriend didn’t stay over, but when the footprints stopped at my door I started to freak out. I was even compelled to say ‘maids name’ he’s not here you can come in and check”, but somehow I knew it wasn’t her. So I call my boyfriend and tell him someone’s in my house. He tells me to put on some shoes and check the other rooms. I really don’t want to, but I’m algo not going to sleep until I’m sure there’s no one. I find some courage and put in some shoes and start walking ver slowly towards my sisters room and checking with my phone light I see it’s empty, their bathroom empty, my parents room empty. By this time in getting more relaxed because I think I must’ve imagined it. Then I go to my parents bathroom and it’s also empty. So I walk to their house closet and I scan the room with my phone light when I shed light on a human figure, and it was obviously not my maid but I say her name and the tall muscular body answers “no, it’s “guys name” the driver that took my parents to the airport. I freeze and try to act cool he invents some petty excuse “I was checking the windows were closed” I tell him it’s late he leaves the house and the I called my parents to verify his excuse. ( he was obviously lying) and then he has the audacity to ask me via WhatsApp if I want him to drive me to college tomorrow. Never saw him again, and I hope we don’t meet again

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jovw96/hide_and_seek/

LetsNotMeet

1997ab

High School Staker Fantasized About My Death

I moved a lot growing up. by the time freshman year of highschool came around i had moved 7 or so times, and was about a year and a half into my most recent move. i had found a pretty close group of friends in middle school and we all went to highschool together. I met him through one of those close friends. they were in band together, and even though he was almost four years older than us we welcomed him into our group. Sam was easily twice my size, tall and heavy set, and originally kind of intimidating (although i was never afraid of large men before him, lesson learned). I had a kindof bad home life, and i spend as much time as i could at school, some times hanging around the school campus until six or seven at night with this friend group. three of us lived in the same direction and we would walk the half hour trip together until our paths split. one slightly colder evening Sam offered to walk me home since the others had gone home already. i just thought he was being a gentleman. he mentioned something from a previous move when he lived in California. he didn't walk a friend home and something horrible happened. he left it at that, and i let him walk me home. We got a lot closer after that. we bonded over both living in California and exchanged numbers. he would message me late into the night about his depression and self harm and i just wanted to help.a few months later he tried asking me out. it was this big romantic gesture, he learned a Disney song on the ukelele and sang to me in the cafeteria. but i was already dating someone, and when i turned him down he got angry. a freaky, quiet, twitchy kind of angry. i felt so bad. I started seeing him everywhere. we were still friends, we still hang out in groups, but i would pass him on the street walking somewhere and a few minutes later id see that he changed directions and had started to follow me. he would 'walk' me to classes by following me in passing period at a distance. i started to minimize the group time we spend together and he would follow me more. i had friends meet me at each class and walk me to my next one because i felt unsafe. he knew where i lived. then he started to talk. not to me, but to mutual friends about that one girl in California who he tried to walk home. at first, she just shared my name, some crazy coincidence. then she had the same brown curly hair and blue eyes. and every time he rambled about her she became more and more like me. and then he said what happened. Over literal weeks this fantasy evolved. they were walking home and they were jumped by some guy with a knife. it was a robbery gone wrong on her birthday, January 24th (my birthday) and she died horribly and he couldn't react in time. she bled out in his arms. Sarah, who has brown curly hair, blue eyes, my name, my birthday and sounds just like me bled out in his arms. each retelling added more and more detail, and this guy with his sick fantacy about my death would follow me around and knew where i lived. my boyfriend was abusive, mentally and physically, but i stayed as close to him as i could when ever i could, because if the worst happened i knew for sure he could throw a punch. I never felt safe at school or in our little town walking home from school in the dark. One day at school he had a break down, freaked out and ran out of the school in a panic. i was sent after him and i found him curled up on the floor. I got closer, i knew about his anxiety and depression and my safety aside i wanted to make sure he was okay. it was then that he told me this horrifying story that i had been hearing from mutual friends with added details. We had been walking home from a concert in California. we passed a dark alley and a homeless man came out with a rusty knife and asked for anything valuable. I fumbled for my phone, I didn't have anything else on me, and he thought I was calling the cops. he stabbed me. once, twice, again and again, and Sam stood there horrified. he saw red and grabbed a broken glass bottle near my body and attacked the homeless man. he killed him with his own knife. He told me he killed someone. my stalker killed someone. It didn't matter how messed up he was anymore. i didn't care if it was a fantasy or real, i didn't care how it would affect his mental health anymore. i wanted to go to the police. i was scared for my life. my friends convinced me to go to the school counselor first. that morning we went and told them everything. the stalking, the stories, how he admitted to murder and that was the reason they moved from California. how i was afraid for my life and wanted to call the police. the counselor didn't take us seriously. she went to the principle and the principle (not a mental health expert) called Sam in to talk about the accusations. the principle then informed me that he did not think that Sam had any kind of mental illness or that i was in any danger, and that was that. i lost faith in adults, gave up on going to the police. i stayed with my friend walking me in between classes, hiding behind my abusive boyfriend, and looking behind me every step of my walk home that year. the counselors ended up gaslighting us to the point where this all feels like a fever dream now, and i would think its made up if it weren't for my journal entries recording the events and my growing panic, and the similar stories from my friend group. Edit: clarifying some confusion, I don't think anyone actually died in california. I think he is a pathological liar and that he was so deep in a fantasy that he had convinced himself it was real. No, I wasn't physical hurt. But it was emotionally scarring and the threat that he posed to me was 100% real hey sam, let's not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jomue3/high_school_staker_fantasized_about_my_death/

LetsNotMeet

Purple_PuppyDog

Guy Fakes His Car Being Broke Down

This happened to me when I was about 12 or 13 years old so about 15 years ago and I am a female. The town that I live in has developed a lot since this story, but when this happened there were a lot of factories spread out with lots of land in between them. There was a Walmart being built in the area, but it had barely started construction. There was a main highway that ran through there, but my mom didn't like taking it as much as traffic would get bad most of the time. The side streets we would take were desolate and not much light. There was, also little to no cars taking these streets. I can't remember where we were coming from that night, but in the car that night was my mom, my brother (who is three years younger than me), and me. My mom is obviously driving, I'm in the passenger seat, and my brother is sitting behind me. My mom is the sweetest person ever, but is very adamant that she will never stop to help somebody on the side of the road or pick somebody up especially when her kids were in the car. She does, however, makes sure she calls the police so that they can help. It was around 9pm and we are going home when my mom and I spot someone on the side of the road by the passenger side with their hood up. Nothing out of the ordinary as my mom slows down a little since it is dark outside and doesn't want to harm anybody that might be fixing their car. As soon as we are close to the car this guy steps out from around the hood of the car towards the street and is waving us down. I don't remember much of a description because I wasn't paying too much attention, plus I could barely see the man, but I do remember feeling bad we weren't at least going to stop to see what he needed. The man at this point is in the middle of the road waving his hands, but as we come up on the car we don't see anybody else in the car. So my mom swerves around him and tells my brother to find her phone in her purse that was in the floor between the front and back seats. I look at my mom as she looks in her rear view mirror and her face goes white and her eyes get wide. My mom slams her foot on the accelerator. This is highly unusual for my mom as she is really good at going the speed limit. At this point, I know something is wrong. My mom's voice goes high and in a panicked voice is asking my brother where is her phone. I'm yelling at her, "What is going on?!" All this chaos is freaking my brother out and with him being so little is crying and can't find the phone. My mom keeps her eyes on the road, but keeps glancing up continuously at her rear view mirror and finally answers, "He's following us!" I'm not exactly sure what she is talking about, but know that this isn't a good situation. My mom is speeding towards the highway and thank goodness there is no traffic. I look in the back window and see somebody passing cars trying to keep up with my mom. I ask her where she's going and she told me she's heading to the police station. As we are getting close my mom tells me to jump out of the car as soon as she stops the car and grab my brother from the back seat while she runs around the car to meet us. My mom stops right in front of the police station and doesn't even wait for the car to fully come to a stop before she puts the car in park. I open my car door as fast as I can and grab my brother who has quickly opened his door. I take off in a full sprint with my brother in one hand and my mom on the other hand. Once we finally talk to a police officer is when I finally understand the full extent of what happened. My mom told the police officer that once we had passed the guy with a broke down car he quickly ran to the hood of his car and slammed it. He, then, got into his car and sped after us. That was when my mom knew this guy had horrible intentions for us. She said he kept trying to speed up to get on the side of us, but she was able to speed up to avoid that. Once my mom turned toward the police station she said the guy had stopped following her, but still wanted to get to the police station instead he changed his mind. She gave the best description of the guy and his car, but because everything happened so fast she didn't get a license plate number. I'm pretty sure the police never found him. I'm, also, not sure what the guy had planned for us if we had actually stopped to help, but I know it was nothing good. To the guy that faked his car being broke down on an empty street, let's not ever meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jod81j/guy_fakes_his_car_being_broke_down/

LetsNotMeet

babycake818

I’m never taking my girlfriend’s brother to the park again.

So, this happened a year ago, and I’m still pretty shaken by this whole event. I thought I’d tell my story. I live in the UK and in autumn, it gets dark at around 4PM. There was a school autumn break that week so all the kids were at home, so that means my girlfriend’s brother was home too. I’d been with her for a year at that point so her family knew me pretty well and her brother enjoyed my company. She’d recently been pretty stressed out. Her parents were going out across the country for the day so she had to look after her brother, but I thought that I’d give her a day to herself so she can just cool off. I asked her parents if I could look after their son for the day instead and they agreed. So I came around at 8AM and they let me in before they set off. My girlfriend’s brother woke up about an hour later and she followed shortly afterwards. We went out for breakfast at a local cafe together and went back to her house when we were done, and once I dropped her off I took her brother to the park. We got there at about 2PM and the place was pretty packed. Eventually the sun started going down and the place was completely empty by 4PM. I texted my girlfriend and told her we’d be home in a bit, and she said okay. I’m gonna be honest, I completely lost track of time, me and her brother were having fun being the only two in the park. Me and her brother were stood on top of this really tall climbing frame with a slide on it. It was almost pitch black at this point so I was using my phone as a flashlight. A notification popped up on my screen, and it was my girlfriend asking where we were - I responded “oops, coming home now!!” and told her brother we had to go. He sighed and asked if we could go down the slide, and I said yes. Before I went down, I knew what the park looked like. There were street lights all around it, benches everywhere, some trees, and places for the kids to play. When I came out of the slide, there was something weird - a man had appeared out of nowhere and was stood beneath one of the street lights. He had a trench coat on and a beanie hat. I immediately got my girlfriend’s brother behind me and called out to the man with a friendly ‘hi there!’ I got a response - he started... groaning? I noticed he was swaying back and forth in the light, and he had his mouth open, drooling, with a blank look in his eyes. This man made me feel really fucking uneasy. I picked little bro up and kept checking on this guy the entire time. There was an exit to my left that led to the path back home, so I left out that way and kept checking behind me every few seconds - the guy was still stood there. The path where the guy was stood merges with a big main path if you walk out through some bushes, and so does the one I walked through. I was walking down the path for about two minutes, periodically checking behind me, and thought I was in the clear. I wasn’t. I was on a straight stretch of path with lots of street lights when I saw him again. He was stood beneath one, looking up at it, and he was playing with something in his hands - I looked closer and realised it was a fucking knife. I kept walking and walking, checking behind me constantly. Girlfriend’s little brother was so scared he had his head tucked into my chest. I noticed that the guy seemed to be moving to new street lights whenever I turned around - initially I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me, but I started counting them and realised 2 streetlights behind him had definitely turned into 5. I could faintly hear the groaning noise, and he was occasionally moaning as well. I picked up the pace a bit and turned a corner, getting into the last stretch of street before I got to my girlfriend’s house. That was when I heard him behind the row of bushes - that moaning noise sounded angry, and I heard his heavy footsteps bounding down the path. The man was fucking running. I immediately broke into a sprint and didn’t stop until I turned an alleyway at the front of the street and got behind my girlfriend’s house. There’s a big bush there, so I crouched down behind that and spammed her phone with messages to open the back gate. I hugged her brother close until she opened it for us and got us in quickly. It felt like years. I went to the front of the house and had it confirmed that I’d managed to shake him - he was now in the street... circling where I’d been, outside of the alleyway, just moments ago. He was still moaning. He had that knife in his hand still. He started kicking people’s bins over. I called the police immediately, but he was gone by the time they arrived and as far as I know they never found him. There was a similar incident near the area a few months ago I saw in a local Facebook group, but I don’t think anything came of that either. Her parents thanked me for keeping their son safe and didn’t hold any ill will against me for the situation. He went back to normal pretty much the day afterwards, but he still has nightmares about the event. When my country isn’t in lockdown I’m still allowed to look after him with my girlfriend, funnily enough. But we haven’t been to that park ever since, and I still check over my shoulder and break into a cold sweat every time I’m alone in the street.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jmir54/im_never_taking_my_girlfriends_brother_to_the/

LetsNotMeet

the_spork_

[MODPOST] /r/LetsNotMeet 9th Birthday Banner Contest

Hey everyone! November 15th marks the 9th birthday of /r/LetsNotMeet and we decided to celebrate by holding a competition to design the subreddit’s banner! Because LNM is focused on true stories, we wanted to give you, the readers of LNM, an opportunity to show us your creative sides! This competition will run until November 22nd at 11:59 PM (UTC). The winners and honorable mentions will be announced in a separate modpost on December 1st. We will be selecting two winners of this competition to serve as the banners for the desktop and mobile sites. The Community’s Choice submission will be featured as the desktop banner, with the winner selected by community vote. The Mod’s Choice winner will be selected by the mod team and will have their entry featured as the mobile banner. Credit will be given to the artists in the subreddit’s bio and wiki (we will automatically credit your Reddit username unless specified otherwise). Those of you who do not plan to submit are encouraged to vote in the thread below! **Competition Guidelines:** 1. All entries must be submitted no later than November 22nd at 11:59 PM (UTC) by commenting in this thread. Only parent comments will count as submissions. 2. Images must be submitted in JPEG or PNG format. Other file types will not be considered. a. Submissions can be created in any medium but must be submitted as a digital file. 3. Image dimensions must be one of the following sizes: 1. 4,000 x 64 pixels 2. 4,000 x 128 pixels (recommended) 3. 4,000 x 192 pixels 4. Any images, photos, or art used must have been created by you or you must have permission to use them. If mods suspect you have used an image that belongs to someone else, you may be asked to provide proof. 5. Content must be related to /r/LetsNotMeet in some way. This will be up to mod discretion. (Bonus points if you incorporate LNM’s birthday. 😉 ) 6. Be creative! 😊 What do you picture when you hear “LetsNotMeet”? **Additional Guidelines:** 1. No vote manipulation or promotion or your submission will be removed and you will be disqualified from participating. (This includes promotion via social media or video.) 2. No nudity, gore, or otherwise NSFW content. 3. All submissions must follow Reddit guidelines and the /r/LetsNotMeet rules. Submissions breaking any of these rules will be removed. 4. \*Please note, that if you submit an entry for this competition, you are consenting to its possible use by /r/LetsNotMeet.\* 5. Please report any rule-breaking submissions to the mods. 6. Parent comments should be submissions only. All other parent comments will be removed. 7. Please keep all questions or any other comments that are not submissions contained within the pinned comment thread. Most importantly, we hope you have fun coming up with ideas and checking out all of the entries! \-The LNM Mod Team

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jm4yc6/modpost_rletsnotmeet_9th_birthday_banner_contest/

LetsNotMeet

kokirikid

The Monthly Reader-Selected Best of /r/LetsNotMeet Thread

Please use this thread to share posts that you enjoyed from the past month (don't forget to include a link!). -The /r/LetsNotMeet Mod Team

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jm58bc/the_monthly_readerselected_best_of_rletsnotmeet/

LetsNotMeet

AutoModerator

The Fanatical Stalking Christians we Met on Halloween

This happened when I was 12 and my brother was 17 and is truly proof that the living are more terrifying than the dead. I think about this every Halloween. This IS NOT a paranormal story. The community I grew up in was made up mostly of Hispanic people so the folklore of La Llorona was very popular in the area and especially around Halloween. ​ For those of you who don't know the myth of la Llorona is basically a story about a woman who married a rich man had a perfect life and then the man cheated on her. She was so distraught that she took her children to the river and drown them. When she realized what she had done she threw herself in the river and drown herself, but she couldn't pass on to the afterlife without her children so she roams the river looking for her kids. If she spots living children, she will grab them and drown them to take them to the afterlife with her. The story is meant to keep kids from playing in the River. ​ Most of my friends that year were "too cool and grown-up" to go trick or treating that year and were planning on having a party instead. I was really disappointed and asked my brother if he would take me trick or treating. He agreed and we went while it was still light outside so I would be able to make it to the party before the end of the night. ​ Since we had gone too early there weren't a lot of people ready to hand out candy, so after a disappointing trek, we started walking back home. On our way home, we passed by a park that had a river running next to it. On Halloween older teens would usually wait at this park to try to see if they could spot La Llorona. Waiting to spot La Llorona at this particular park was a well-known town tradition that people had done for decades, that still continues to this day. ​ However, there were no kids or teens there yet because it was still kind of early. But there were people in the park putting on a Llorona play. We decided to stop and watch it. There was really not much of an audience. It seems like it was just us and another few kids who were apart of the group putting on the play who were not in costumes and didn't have trick or treating buckets with them. When we sat down a woman approached us and asked us if we were trick or treating. I told her we were and she dropped a small comic book in my trick or treat bag and smiled. She seemed very kind and welcoming. ​ The play started and I got the weird feeling that something was off. The woman playing La Llorona pointed my brother and me out in the tiny audience and asked us what religion we were, to which my brother responded "Roman Catholic." She then told us that La Llorona was also a Roman Catholic and was burning in hell for her sins and rejecting Jesus. She then told us that Halloween was an evil holiday and everyone celebrated would burn forever. The play progressed to getting weirder and weirder and including a scene where La Llorona started talking about abortion and held up a fake fetus and pretended to eat it. ​ My brother and I got up to leave but the people stopped us and started yelling at us to sit down, but we kept going. They started following us down the street and my brother grabbed my hand and started running because he was afraid they were going to harm us. We finally got to our street and only about 3 people were still following us yelling at us about how we were going to go to hell and we needed to accept Jesus. My brother and I went inside quickly and he locked the front doors and then frantically ran around the house making sure all doors and windows were locked before he called our dad at his office. Our dad told us to call the police and that he'd be home in 15 minutes. ​ When my dad got home the people were still outside chanting and singing some prayer song asking God to save my brother's and my soul. My dad shooed them away and told them the police would be there any second. They were not deterred and stayed there chanting until the police showed up and threatened to arrest them. ​ I was so freaked out by the events that I decided I didn't want to go to the party and instead just wanted to organize my Halloween candy and put aside all the snickers for my brother as a thank you for taking me trick or treating. Snickers were his favorite. My mom ordered pizza and we sat down to watch Halloween Town, while I went through my trick or treat bag. I was halfway through sorting my candy when I came across the comic book that the lady had dropped in there. I opened it up and it truly horrified me. ​ It was a propaganda comic about a little boy who went to a haunted house, ended up being hit by a car on the way home, and went to hell because he hadn't found Jesus. I was really scared and for weeks as a child, I had nightmares about the event and the comic book. ​ Years later, I asked my mom if she remembered it and she told me that she couldn't forget and that she and my father had called the police over it several times. Apparently, for years the group would leave envelopes with mine and my brothers named written on it with different weird creepy comic books and handwritten notes about how they were praying for us. Also, invitations to join them in their church and weird promises about baking us cakes and other creepy ways to entice our childselves into their church. To this day we can't figure out how they knew our names or who wrote the letters. It really creeps me out that they did this. ​ I told a friend one time about the comic and he knew exactly what they were. I ended up googling it and finding the exact comic online. If you want to see the comic that was given to me you can view it here: [https://chick.com/products/tract?stk=0032](https://chick.com/products/tract?stk=0032)

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jlwikl/the_fanatical_stalking_christians_we_met_on/

LetsNotMeet

OpinionLarge

[Meta] Happy Halloween! I present to you, for the third year, a compiled list of some of the spookiest stories on Let’s Not Meet!

These links will take you to the posts on the ios app! If you’re using desktop or it doesn’t work, I recommend searching the titles in the subreddit:) Thank you again for all the support, it’s been overwhelming! *Stories from the woods, forests, national parks and camping* [The Man in the woods ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/29d4rx/the_man_in_the_woods/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The Someone or Someones In The Woods](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/3r4k6e/the_someone_or_someones_in_the_woods/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Creepy Teens in the Woods](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/5gd597/creepy_teens_in_the_woods/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Creepy encounter in the woods in Sulphur, Oklahoma](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/bqxod6/creepy_encounter_in_the_woods_in_sulphur_oklahoma/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Church in the Woods ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ff66le/church_in_the_woods/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Idiot hunter in the woods. ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/foz2lh/idiot_hunter_in_the_woods/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [A Somewhat Creepy Encounter Camping](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ixzy3o/a_somewhat_creepy_encounter_camping/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [A strange man hunted me through a national park](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/gjr66c/a_strange_man_hunted_me_through_a_national_park/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Knees in the Trees](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/glr2pq/knees_in_the_trees/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Stalker in the forest ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/h94fr9/stalker_in_the_forest/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Camping trip with predator ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hj0b3f/camping_trip_with_predator/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Chased by strange people in the woods with a large bag...](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hp1rb3/chased_by_strange_people_in_the_woods_with_a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [A man stalked me in the woods when I was stranded on a back country road at 3am.](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/d2yq15/a_man_stalked_me_in_the_woods_when_i_was_stranded/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The Forest Adventure](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/dvn5m1/the_forest_adventure/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Not going into the forest anymore...](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/gaptg0/not_going_into_that_forest_anymore/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Nightmare Experience At My Friends Cabin](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/397rlx/nightmare_experience_at_my_friends_cabin/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The follower in the state park ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/wcdhm/the_follower_in_the_state_park/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Being watched while camping in the deep woods ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/1srljp/being_watched_while_camping_in_the_deep_woods/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The man in the fog ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/coly1q/the_man_in_the_fog/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Are those bones?](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/e7xs1m/are_those_bones/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Stalked by a female solo camper for several days while on our mountain camping honeymoon.](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/exl7aw/stalked_by_a_female_solo_camper_for_several_days/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Man in forest kills animals and chases after me while ringing bells in the dark ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iim3st/man_in_forest_kills_animals_and_chases_after_me/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Axe Man In the Woods ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iobtq4/axe_man_in_the_woods/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Something sinister is hiding in the woods.](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ine7t3/something_sinister_is_hiding_into_the_woods/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The Camper in the Shade](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/i71wix/the_camper_in_the_shade/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Chased through the woods by a man with a crossbow](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/i238ow/chased_through_the_woods_by_a_man_with_a_crossbow/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) *Scary stories that AREN’T about woods, forests, camping or national parks* [Escaped what turned out to be a horrific terrorist attack ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iu6hx0/escaped_what_turned_out_to_be_an_horrific/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [This happened quite a long time ago, yet is is never too far from my mind. We continue to feel very lucky to have survived whatever may have happened that night. Read and tell me what you think?](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/gi7emq/this_happened_quite_a_long_time_ago_yet_it_is/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Trapped in a room with his kids ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hb3r5n/trapped_in_a_room_with_his_kids/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Never walk home alone in Woodland Hills](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hd8i39/never_walk_home_alone_in_woodland_hills/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Bearded Gore-Loving Woman in a Hospital Gown on the Subway](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/held51/bearded_goreloving_women_in_a_hospital_gown_on/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [I skipped a detention hour and maybe it saved my life](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hjfavz/i_skipped_a_detention_hour_and_maybe_it_saved_my/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Convicted murderer cornered me at work ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hjpmto/convicted_murderer_cornered_me_at_work/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The Devil’s Staircase](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hqa7x3/the_devils_staircase/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The Breathing Man](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/httxbr/the_breathing_man/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Kitten man](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hv0i5i/kitten_man/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Meth Hitchhiking](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hldpc3/meth_hitchhiking/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [It was a completely different house.](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hqineb/it_was_a_completely_different_house/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Almost gave a serial killer a car ride... ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/dfj19w/almost_gave_a_serial_killer_a_car_ride/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [I’m Pretty Sure They Weren’t Rats.](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/hlnxct/im_pretty_sure_they_werent_rats/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The Birthday Whistler](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/dxl3do/the_birthday_whistler/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Had to hide from shooter with my crying kid.](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/e0yxo4/had_to_hide_from_shooter_with_my_crying_kid/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Random Tuesday in October](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/e22niv/random_tuesday_in_october/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [New Years Eve, 1999.](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/e5yz01/new_years_eve_1999/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [It Wasn’t a Cat](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/e5m94w/it_wasnt_a_cat/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Saved by a spam call?](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/e5dy35/saved_by_a_spam_call/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Man Older Than My Father Takes Pictures Of Me Without My Knowledge](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ehrtgq/man_older_than_my_father_takes_pictures_of_me_for/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Guy who tried to sell me illegal human remains ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/dqthmt/guy_who_tried_to_sell_me_illegal_human_remains/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Hunted like an animal.](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ejwfty/hunted_like_an_animal_reposting_due_to_breaking/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Don’t park on the sides of the roads to to sleep](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ek4les/dont_park_on_the_sides_of_the_road_to_sleep/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Something very strange happened outside my apartment door ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/eom3pk/something_very_strange_happened_outside_my/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The smiling stranger ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/en9csy/the_smiling_stranger/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The park](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/f9dbo1/the_park/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The Basement Door](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ffwoyw/the_basement_door/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Cannibal at the Pet Store ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/fex5qe/cannibal_at_the_pet_store/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The Most Dangerous Games](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/fl0c1z/the_most_dangerous_game/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [The Whistling Man](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/fnofyl/the_whistling_man/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [She Just Got Into My Car](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/gb332h/she_just_got_into_my_car/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Crazy Ron ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/gpm6vk/crazy_ron/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [14 year old psycho ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/i44eij/14_year_old_psycho/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Just a nice Christmas Eve drive...](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/i7q7an/just_a_nice_christmas_eve_drive/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Teenage Regret, Insane Clown Posse, and Lurking](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ict3iq/teenage_regret_insane_clown_posse_and_lurking/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Neighbor man stalked entire family for 2+ years](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ikzf0b/neighbor_man_stalked_entire_family_for_2_years/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Don’t mention your girlfriend in Caucasus Mountains](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ipvrsn/dont_mention_your_girlfriend_in_caucasus_mountains/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [He’s still out there ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/868kve/hes_still_out_there/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Small Cult Tried To Recruit/Poison My Sister](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/87szog/small_cult_tried_to_recruitpoison_my_sister/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [A cult followed my friend and I on the train tracks ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/h8k3u7/a_cult_followed_my_friend_and_i_on_the_train/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Disturbed Elderly Landlord ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/im8s4w/disturbed_elderly_landlord/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Old Gas Station In The Middle of Nowhere](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/i23s5x/old_gas_station_in_the_middle_of_nowhere/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [Sofa on Craigslist](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/i74sn9/sofa_on_craigslist/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [A Home Intruder Came Into My Room One Night ](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j0yw0x/a_home_intruder_came_into_my_room_one_night/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) I hope you enjoy!!! Have a scary day!

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jlk58l/meta_happy_halloween_i_present_to_you_for_the/

LetsNotMeet

avidtraveller123

Do you want to go to heaven or hell?

True scary story When I (female) was 7 years old my brother and I had a babysitter. One afternoon my parents were both away and my little brother and I played with our babysitter. Suddenly the phone rang and I always loved to talk to people on the phone. A man was calling and he was very friendly. He asked if my parents were home and I told him that they will be back within maybe an hour. He asked me how I was and what I was doing and was just very friendly. It did not come to my mind to ask who this person was, I just thought it probably is one my parents friends and I've always been bad at recognizing people on the phone. And the man clearly knew my parents names and some informations that gave me the feeling that he is a friend. This also happenend in the 90's and our telephone at that time did not show the number of who was calling. We chatted for a couple of minutes until the man suddenly stopped to talk to me. I asked if he was still there and after a weird pause his friendly voice suddenly dropped and in a raspy and extremely creepy voice he asked if I would like to go to heaven or hell. I froze. There was silence on the other line and I could hear heavy breathing, it sounded very creepy. I ended the call and felt very ashamed because now I remembered how my parents always tell me to ask who was on the line and to just talk to people I know. I went back to the babysitter and as she asked me who called I told her it was my granny since I felt ashamed of what just happened. For the rest of the day I felt a bit uneasy but it was all forgotten the next day. A couple of days later it was wednesday (my dudes) and in the evening there was always an hour in between where I was alone at home. My mother went to a swimming course with my brother and my dad was a soccertrainer. The soccerfield was across the street from our house and when I turned 7 I was allowed to stay home alone since I always hated to come with my dad. I always enjoyed that hour of me time and played on my gameboy. Suddenly the phone rang and I supposed it was either my mom or dad to ask if everything is okay. I said "hello" and I just heard heavy breathing on the other line. I immediately felt uneasy and asked who was there and then I heard the raspy voice again asking me if i want to go to heaven or hell. I immediately ended the call and felt very uneasy und unsafe. The phone rang again and I did not pick up. It rang again after not even a minute and I thought about the possibility of it just being one of my parents so I picked it up again. I did not say anything but I immediately heard heavy breathing again. After this I called my dad and he told me to just ignore the phone since it is probably just a stupid prank and that he would be home in ten minutes. When my dad arrived the calls stopped and I felt stupid and I was not sure if my parents believed me. For the following weeks I always came with me dad on wednesdays since I did not feel safe at home. But since that night the calls stopped and neither me nor my parents were on the phone with the strange man. After maybe a month I felt safe to stay home alone again since I agreed with my parents that it was just a stupid prank from one of the older kids living on our street. After not even ten minutes of being alone the phone rang and I immediately felt unsafe again. But again I thought that my parents probably called to ask if I was okay. I picked up and there was the breathing again. I said nothing, I was frozen and could not believe that this happened again. How could this person always know at what time I was home alone? The voice asked in his raspy voice "So I assume you would prefer heaven, right? So.. I could get you there.." I started crying and ended the call. I got my jacket and was about to put on my shoes to walk to the soccerfield to be with my dad. We were living on the first floor and I went to the staircase to get out. When I looked down I could see someone standing outside through the frosted glass window in our door. I froze. I watched the door and waited for our upstairs neighbour to open the door but the figure just waited. After a minute my heart dropped as our doorbell rang. And it did not stop, the person pressed their finger on the bell constantly. Someone was outside and it was clearly none of my parents since they both have keys. I felt like throwing up when I realized that we have a spare key under a plant pot next to our door, so in the most obvious spot you could imagine. I was so afraid that the person on the other side of the door would find the key. I ran upstairs and luckily our neighbour was home. He was a very friendly man and a good friend of my parents. He let me in and tried to calm me down. He went on the balcony and screamed to the person down there to get the fuck away or he would call the police. It was already dark outside but he could see a figure in black clothes running away from our house. Afterwards he called my dad and he immediately came home. If this was not enough there are two details I just found out a couple of years ago since my dad back then did not want to scare me: When he came to the house a white teddy with angel wings was placed in front of our door, my dad threw it away immediately. And the most shocking thing: Our spare key was gone. My dad and one of his friends changed our lock the same night this happened and we moved to another area of the city a couple of months later. This was the last time something like this happened. The worst part is that it must have been someone living nearby or a friend of the family since he had many details of our family when we first talked and he always knew exactly when I was home alone. We knew all of our neighbour since it was a very quiet street and they were all families and very nice. To this day I always feel like throwing up when I get an anonymous call.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jk9fk5/do_you_want_to_go_to_heaven_or_hell/

LetsNotMeet

Wiedergaengerr