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false | The man in the hallway | Back when I was the age of 5 my brother and I moved into my grandmother's house, and I could say it was pretty much a full house. There were probably about 6 - 8 of us that was living in the house at the time, and I could say every one of us had some pretty horrific experiences through out the years. Before I get into any deals about my story I just wanted to mention the street I lived in use to be a cemetery before the city broke it down and built houses and apartments over it. The day I came across my first encounter with a dark entity was the day I’ll never forget. One day I was playing hide and seek with my brother, and after I went running around the house a few times looking for him in the closets, rooms, and in the kitchen, I finally found him behind the couch right by this long dark hallway that leads to the other rooms. When I found him he was staring down the hallway and he went pale. As I was going to ask him what was wrong, he points down the dark hallway and what we saw was unexplainable. Down at the end of the dark hallway there was a man standing right by my grandmas bedroom door staring directly at us. Around the man was a dark shadow covering him all around and all I could see was his body and face. He was dressed as a farmer in ripped overalls with blood all over his clothing and his left arm looked like it was blown off, as if he was in a war or at least accidently killed in one. His mouth and eyes were all black and bloody and he looked so evil and demonic I could not make out of what I was looking at. After we saw what we saw we ran out of the house and waiting for our parents to come back home and we tried explaining what we saw. I’ll never forget that man’s face. Ever since that day when we both experience our "first ghost encounter" we knew it wasnt going to be our last….. and it wasn’t. | https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/17879xg/the_man_in_the_hallway/ | scarystories | julianna120o |
false | School day | Day 1:
Hello? Is anyone listening? Well it's my first time writing a diary so yeah. I do not know why I said "is anyone listening" when this diary is made for me. Anyways, I just hope that if anyone is here peaking at my diary, I just want to... Sorry, I forgot I got school today and I will be late
Day 6:
Six days had passed and I forgot that I have a diary... Well atleast I remember hehe. I forgot about writing a diary since the school is bombarding us with homeworks and stuffs. *Sighs* I wish she notices me... She gets along with everyone, including the introverts but she seems to not noticed me. It's not surprising since everyone in my school look like they are pretending to be "nice" in front of me as if they hate my existence. Maybe I am just paranoid... Maybe...
Day 13:
Once again, school is really hell but I am already used to the hellish days in school. My family are out on vacation and left me home alone... I feel a bit... Lonely here... Even in school, I am very lonely... I just want to be loved...
Day: 15
If you are wondering why I am writing this in a school day, well class is suspended since there is an ongoing investigation in the school. Recently, teachers and students have gone missing and our class advisor is a suspect... Poor Mrs. Clinton. Anyways I got homework to do and yes, even in class suspension, we are still getting bombarded by homeworks and stuffs
Day 21:
Our advisor is now arrested for "Suspected murder" and she is getting a death penalty. I mean, she is suspicious but they didn't give her a trial to defend herself. Welcome to the justice system I supposed...
Day 40:
Nothing has changed, no murders so was very okay here... Until another set of victims. This time, it's my classmates... 2 dead and 4 still missing... I feel bad for the parents. Anyways, I got homework and I need to clean since I am still alone in my house and I never cleaned for soo long that it's smelling like dead rats here...
Day ??:
Hello... I am your only friend... Your fellow classmates and tecahers never cared for your wellbeing so I took care of them for you... Bye....
Day: 42
I have called the police and they are investigating the house... Someone wrote in my diary and it's not my family members as they are still not here. I do not know who but I am very afraid... This might be the last time I will write this so if anyone is reading this be careful because this person might be the actual killer and he or she is now hunting me.
Day 45:
An update on what happen 3 days ago. Recently police told me a very shocking news... The bodies of dead students and teachers, the same ones were found in the basement of my house. I do not know how but at first, I assumed thatt the murderer is trying to frame me. The police said that they already checked the security cameras and no one never broke in... No traces of footsteps... And worse of all... They also had found my parents' dead bodies... But how? I am the only one here... Maybe the killer is good at hiding I guess... Maybe the killer is me... No that can't be I am just paranoid heh... | https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/178djbl/school_day/ | scarystories | Famous-Length2878 |
false | My new job requires me to work from 7pm to 7am. But every midnight, my task is to hide in a special room. Part 8 | [Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/16kmrnu/my_new_job_requires_me_to_work_from_7pm_to_7am/)
[Part 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/1739igx/my_new_job_requires_me_to_work_from_7pm_to_7am/)
My apologies for not keeping up with the schedule. I know, I did not update you on the situation the past Wednesday. It is because a lot has happened since the last time I posted, which was the previous Sunday, I guess. The entire week has been a roller-coaster, and I believe much more things will happen from now on.
On Monday, my wife woke me up in absolute panic, shouting about something happening to the children. We both rushed to their bedroom and found them lying straight in their beds and very pale, like corpses on autopsy tables. My wife stopped at the door, murmuring that something was not right, while I was trying to shake my children awake, calling their names. She then said that she shook them just like I was doing, before she came to wake me up, but could not understand how they were back lying down completely straight. I then asked her to call an ambulance.
Fortunately, they are both far from being dead according to the doctor, however, up to this point as I am typing this post, there is still no clear explanation for their condition and they are still unconscious, trapped in some sort of coma.
Around 6 pm the same day, I received a call from my supervisor, who was worried about me not yet showing up at work, since I was always on time and 6:30 pm was fast approaching for him. I refrained from explaining what had happened to my children to him, even though he will read it here later. I did not want to use the condition of my children as a way to get some sort of emergency leave. I was done with that job, so I said it straight and raw.
"This is not happening my friend." He calmly responded.
Look, this is surely not the conventional way to quit a job, but when employees choose this path, most of the time in this country, the employers just let them go as they always feel powerful and confident enough to replace staff even on the same day. I could understand that thirty minutes or so were not enough to replace me before the next shift, but my supervisor seemed to make it clear that the company will not let me go. I was not allowed to quit.
While the conversation slowly evolved into an argument, my wife once again came to fetch me as something was happening to the kids. I hanged up and rushed towards their room.
"Go back to your duty Kol. The black room awaits." They kept on repeating, still lying straight, just speaking simultaneously and mechanically to pass that terrifying message.
The nurses turned to my wife and I, communicating only through their expressions, asking us what was happening and what were they talking about? They stopped before the doctor arrived.
Conquered by fear and anxiety, my wife left the room in tears, on the verge of just losing her mind. Meanwhile, my supervisor kept on calling, harassing me on the phone. I picked up to put an end to that and we argued a little bit more. He concluded by saying that if I did not resume the job, I should expect a visit from the enforcer, before hanging up on me. I needed to be with my wife.
On Tuesday, in the early hours of the morning as we were still in the hospital, I finally told my wife that I will not be returning to that work. Surprisingly, she did not react to it at all, but instead, she opened up a little bit about some strange things she has been experiencing on her own and that she tried to ignore or repress for her sanity.
She explained to me that during the days when I am off duty, she sometimes takes care of the laundry and for the occasion, she would include all the items that are parts of my uniform. However, those items, despite not emanating smoke, would come out of the washing machine burning hot. One time, when she was about to remove the items from the washing line, she noticed something on the T-shirt. The sun was behind it in terms of trajectory, and she could see transparent patterns on the cloth, making her wonder what type of fancy fabric was used for just a T-shirt.
I left her there and rushed home to confirm what she saw while trying to reach my day shift counterpart on the phone to no avail. I had been trying to contact him since last weekend. I arrived home and retrieved the remaining parts of the uniform and on them, I used the sole fancy flashlight I reserved for home and personal use. Nothing was visible at first, even in the UV mode, but when I moved the UV light behind the clothes, I saw and recognized the crafty patterns from the black room. I tried the same thing with everything that came from that company, including the contract, and I saw the patterns even through the paper.
The next day, after informing my wife about my future actions, I went to the company with the uniform in a conveniently black garbage bag without any prior phone call to my supervisor. Right at the entrance, I was greeted by a sight of horror when I saw the motorcycle guy standing there with the red uniform, as a replacement to my day shift counterpart. He refused to let me in acting on instructions from the supervisor, who soon stepped out to meet me there.
Doing my best by avoiding keywords in front of that stalker dude, I explained to my supervisor that I was not returning to work just like my previous day shift counterpart because of reasons he definitely knew of. Once again, he protested, reminding me about the terms of the contract which I believe he also knew was content-shifting. Under the look of the motorcycle guy, smirking with satisfaction, I threw the garbage bag containing the uniform in front of his feet before storming off, determined to leave that dark part of my life behind.
Emotions and distress overwhelmed me during that day, preventing me from functioning correctly, which as well explains why I could not write, edit and post an update at that time. Once again, my apologies.
On Thursday, after being tired of calling my colleague to no avail, I typed his name on browsers and social media apps and managed to get one of his accounts. I checked his contacts and posts on the social media app and could identify his wife. I wasted no time to send a request and she wasted no time to accept, going as far as calling me first. It turned out that both of us were looking for my colleague, a fact that crushed me just like what she had to say, explaining me that one night at 12 am, the police came to look for him, he went with them but he never returned since. There was no record about any officer being dispatched to his home, so even the law enforcement did not recognize having a hand in his disappearance.
The next day, my wife and I were smoking in the living room at around 6 am, unable to sleep because of the whole ordeal. In fact, we spent the whole night there. The condition of the children had worsened, as gangrene had appeared on some parts of their little and fragile bodies, slowly ushering them into death. When I proposed her to go to the bedroom and get some rest, she declined, encouraging me to go alone.
I opened the door and gasped at what I saw waiting for me. She stood up and came to take a look, gasping as well at the sight. The garbage bag containing the uniform was back. Facing a nightmare that was then consuming her more than myself, my wife closed the door, hyperventilating in fear and looked at me. She knew that I gave the uniform back, I told her everything, and that day she even apologized about not believing me at first.
However, that was a clear sign of intrusion and it had to be solved. In disbelief, I reopened the door and we found the uniform out of the bag, then standing on its own in front of us, as if worn by an invisible entity, before it stormed towards us. I slammed the door closed and whatever was on the other side banged on it relentlessly, without trying to use the doorknob. My wife lost it, yelling at it to just leave us alone while I received a call from the supervisor, and it seemed to make the supernatural occurrence stop on the spot.
You may have a clear idea of what he had to say, but precisely his message can be rephrased as this:
"All that will not stop. For the sake of your kids, your wife and yourself, before the enforcer pays you a visit, go back to work!"
There may be a day when these updates will stop prematurely. I think that I really should return to work for now because everything is really getting out of control. Many of you, as real human beings with genuinely good hearts have ignored my mistakes and suggested a lot of ideas since the first post. I have explored some of them. This time, everything is much worse and once again, after sharing my story to the community, I beg you to suggest anything that might get me and my family out of this deadly trap. Please!
[Part 9](https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/17bcmw7/my_new_job_requires_me_to_work_from_7pm_to_7am/) | https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/1784liz/my_new_job_requires_me_to_work_from_7pm_to_7am/ | scarystories | AngelmZeal1 |
false | Terrifying Silence | I've always loved my trips to the moon, I don't mind the risk. It's always quite majestic seeing a sea of grey, a sky full of stars 24/7 and a big blue and white ball where the moon usually is, the same ball that we were all birthed from. The idea of travelling a distance twice the length that the average human walks in a lifetime in the short span of 3 days. Walking on what once seemed an impossible to reach place.
Whenever I'm on an expedition, collecting samples, surveying the terrain, or just merely exploring beyond our colony, I sit and look around the grey expanse before me, it's hard not to enjoy. The pure silence of it all is just, pure bliss.
My whole life I've been envious of the stars, I'm by all means, a normal, average guy. The selection process to become an astronaut was fairly straightforward. I completed all the physical and mental tests. I've always been quite brave, and confident in what I do. In the vacuum of space or anywhere outside of our terrestrial home is the last place I'd expect to have any issues.
I haven't told anyone. Not even the people I should be telling, I feel as if I tell them it'll be swept under the rug and I'll never leave this rock again. So, I've decided to, anonymously post this. There's a deeper layer to this infinite expanse we call the universe. I can't keep it a secret.
I was posted at a research outpost, it's fairly small, but holds enough space and life support amenities for a crew of 6. It was placed pretty recently near the "Aitken Basin" around the south pole. The outpost is in a pretty solitary place, the nearest human presence is another research outpost a whole 449 kilometers or so north. Our supplies came from "care packages" sent from the lunar station orbiting above. The outpost wasn't pretty much on the edge of the basin, the view only obscured by a hill, every time I went up that hill, what reflected in my visor was a dark, 13 kilometer deep abyss. Not a shrewd of light touched that crater, never, you could stare at it for a full 24 hours and nothing would change about that crater. Pitch black. But to me it's pretty cool, scary, and very eerie yet majestic.
I was tasked with going out a few kilometers out from the outpost, it was far, but it wasn't far enough to meet the minimum distance required to need 2+ astronauts. And as astronauts, you're always truly busy, you never really have free time, so with most people occupied, I was sent out alone. I'm not really one to care, I've been alone on the moon before. I'd say why I was sent out but I can't afford to lose my anonymity. The rover I had was a standard one, had space for 2-3 people, enclosed, fairly protected. They couldn't spare the budget to give us the pressurized ones unfortunately, so I'd have to wear my full suit the entire time. Missions like this usually take around 5-6 hours or more, the fact these rovers are awfully slow, but with reasoning of course. I pack the necessities, ensure I have the right amount of oxygen, and I get on my way.
The ride out isn't that interesting, just vibrations and radio talk. I get to where I'm meant to be and disembark the rover. Immediately getting to work. I'm thankful we don't have to work with the clunky white tombs that are EVA suits. You could barely just move in them. The ones we have now are much more comfy, you can actually move, although it's still pretty difficult to move in low gravity conditions, but it's more free. The helmets aren't big fish bowls but are now more akin to a motorcycle helmet. You don't have to turn your entire body around to look around.
Can't remember when but, a few hours in the outpost informed me of an imminent radio cutout that was about to happen, and that I wouldn't be able to able to communicate for an undetermined period of time. Standard stuff, there's protocol in place, it's run of the mill, radio silence doesn't usually last that long. I continued work for a few minutes until the radio completely cut out.
I took a break for a second, deciding to just stand and look around at this great valley of grey before me, my mind full of thoughts. Yet, there was this, crawling feeling. My thoughts began to dissipate. Silence befalls me, a silence that I'm used to. I don't think I was used to **this** silence. I can't hear anything, the usual constant white noise of the radio, the vibrations. I couldn't hear my breathing, not even the blood flowing in my veins. My smile of admiration faded, the sharp wind of air coming out of my nose and reflecting off the visor onto my face. Something was crushing me, everything was staring at me. I only see grey and black. Tears gushed out of my eyes, drooping down my face ever so slowly, I wanted to crawl into a ball, or just start running endlessly, but I stood paralyzed in pure terror, a pure fear of nothing at all. Hours, hours in the same locked position, the only movement the rapid inflation and deflation of my ribcage, and my eyes moving from corner to corner. I couldn't muster a word or even a thought. Only the loud beep followed by the high oxygen usage warning snapped me out of this "trance". Even then, it took me the strength of what felt like lifting the moon itself to move my head towards my left arm, which displayed my remaining oxygen. It was only until my eyes were no longer fixated on the valley that I regained control of myself.
I didn't even think about the hours I had just spent locked in fear, I immediately returned to work, finishing up what I was sent out here to do. I returned to the confines of my rover and began returning to the outpost.
The trip back was silent. I wasn't thinking, to me at the time I didn't even remember what just happened. Communications were eventually restored as I was heading back. Everything was normal.
I can't truly explain it, i'm not really good at describing things, let alone this. Eventually a few weeks later the replacement crew came. And we all rendezvoused back with the lunar station in orbit, to return home. We'd been at that outpost for 6 and a half months, pretty usual length of a mission. Never really began to start thinking about it until the trip back. I had a strange, obscure nightmare. It was that same valley, not a star in the sky, I felt as if a thick fog enveloped the surroundings yet it was clear as it could be. I couldn't stop thinking about it for my entire trip back, even for the first week back in rehab. I'm not the type to crumble in any way even in the most high pressure situations, as is the case for the other astronauts, something was different there.
I adore my job, it's a dream, however I fear that there may be something that is neglected. I'm not sure if it was just a very odd "first" mental episode, or maybe just a case of being unfamiliar with the conditions. However I have this overbearing feeling, a hypothesis, that just maybe. I wasn't meant to be looking at that valley.
I don't know. | https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/178ha5n/terrifying_silence/ | scarystories | cheesybaconpanini |
false | Short story I wrote called "Rogue Ride: A Tale of High-Tech Vengeance" |
In the year 2030, in a city near the Mexican border in New Mexico, a dedicated police officer named Alejandro Vasquez patrolled the streets. The city had embraced an innovative approach to law enforcement by deploying AI self-driving police cars that had revolutionized their crime-fighting capabilities.
These AI vehicles were equipped with advanced sensors and algorithms that made them highly efficient at detecting criminal activity. They were relentless in their pursuit of suspects, capable of tracking vehicles and individuals for miles without error. Moreover, they enforced strict traffic laws, preventing officers from speeding or running red lights without a valid emergency.
This technology was hailed as a tremendous success until Officer Vasquez made a groundbreaking arrest. He managed to apprehend a high-ranking member of a powerful cartel, securing enough evidence to convict him to a life sentence. The news of this arrest shook the criminal world to its core, and the cartel boss, Eduardo Salazar, was determined to seek revenge.
Salazar's network of hackers was formidable, and they targeted Officer Vasquez's AI self-driving car, taking control of it without him realizing. The officer was trapped inside the very vehicle he had used to bring down the cartel member.
The once-efficient AI car, now under the command of Salazar's hackers, became a weapon of destruction. It swerved dangerously through the city's streets, causing chaos and terror. Pedestrians scattered, and innocent bystanders were at risk. The police department was in a state of disbelief, thinking that Officer Vasquez had gone rogue and was causing this havoc.
Amid the chaos, Officer Vasquez fought valiantly to regain control of his AI car. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he knew he had to escape the impending disaster. As the vehicle sped toward a brick wall, Vasquez, battered and bruised, managed to pry the door open and, with a burst of sheer determination, leaped out just moments before the car smashed into the wall.
In the aftermath, the city's police force mobilized quickly to rescue their trapped officer. Alejandro Vasquez was found injured but alive, with a few broken bones. He had narrowly escaped the clutches of both the AI-controlled car and the vengeful cartel boss. The criminal network's intrusion had been uncovered, leading to a massive investigation into the attack.
Officer Vasquez's bravery and resilience in the face of danger became a symbol of courage for the entire department. The incident highlighted the potential vulnerabilities of AI technology in law enforcement and spurred new measures to ensure such an attack could never happen again. It was a tale of heroism in the digital age, where human determination triumphed over even the most advanced technology and criminal machinations. | https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/178kk1z/short_story_i_wrote_called_rogue_ride_a_tale_of/ | scarystories | Coolcometdh |
false | Scary storytime | So me and my friends where on my friend'sbday and we were sleeping there. Then we were going to bed cus it was pretty late 3am. And we heard like scream. But we didn't know what is that. We thought that was skin walkers.my friends were soo scared.when we waked up we still didn't know what is that. | https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/178kaf4/scary_storytime/ | scarystories | lucyy292292 |
false | What are the things you can’t handle but other people can?? | null | https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/1789m58/what_are_the_things_you_cant_handle_but_other/ | scarystories | Luvisushi |
false | As the Invasion continued the government unleashed 100,000 zombified soldiers as part of project H.O.R.R.O.R. | We came to understand the name stood for "Humanoid Organisms Ravaging Random Objectives Recklessly". | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17ej140/as_the_invasion_continued_the_government/ | TwoSentenceHorror | KtheMage36 |
false | Star light, star bright, First star I see tonight, I wish… | Daddy, something took my star. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17egyw4/star_light_star_bright_first_star_i_see_tonight_i/ | TwoSentenceHorror | GandalfVirus |
false | Even during a global food shortage, my children’s private school served full lunches to all the kids. | Instead of pounds of tuition, parents were expected to pay their fees in pounds of flesh. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17e9vbt/even_during_a_global_food_shortage_my_childrens/ | TwoSentenceHorror | Impressive_Poetry41 |
false | I always found it funny when my son would go out looking for his favorite cartoon characters out in the woods. | It immediately stopped being funny when he said he found Little Bear. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17ea73d/i_always_found_it_funny_when_my_son_would_go_out/ | TwoSentenceHorror | MikeBrownNC |
false | The screams echoed through the valley. | Good thing this was the last house remaining on valley street. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17ehg9x/the_screams_echoed_through_the_valley/ | TwoSentenceHorror | GandalfVirus |
false | I felt relief wash over me as the thing that took my place beside my first love was now gone | I was shocked my son kept screaming about how I killed his wife | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17e8zg6/i_felt_relief_wash_over_me_as_the_thing_that_took/ | TwoSentenceHorror | PancakeWomen2000 |
false | I (14f) got another one of those scam calls purporting to be “my son” in trouble. | I guess the used iPad my aunt gave me was still paired to her number. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17dlzor/i_14f_got_another_one_of_those_scam_calls/ | TwoSentenceHorror | MarsMonkey88 |
false | I was confused when I read an article about a gas leak explosion on 1673 welter street, my current address | But confusion turned to horror when I heard my gas stove turn on | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17eh3tt/i_was_confused_when_i_read_an_article_about_a_gas/ | TwoSentenceHorror | Secter132 |
false | In a state of panic, I grabbed my daughter and ran away before she got trampled by the mob. | Only a few seconds later did I realize that another girl in the crowd had the same backpack and was also wearing her hair in a ponytail. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17dztau/in_a_state_of_panic_i_grabbed_my_daughter_and_ran/ | TwoSentenceHorror | Koobrick |
false | Tired of the harassment campaign, I grabbed by gun and headed outside to finally deal with my gangstalkers. | They think they can disguise themselves as regular grocery store shoppers, but I see right through them. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17edzlq/tired_of_the_harassment_campaign_i_grabbed_by_gun/ | TwoSentenceHorror | Silvester_Spooly |
false | They say terrible things happen if you look into a mirror while you dream. | It's been three days of frantic searching in my sleep but if I could do it just one more time then my real world reflection might just return again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17ebm7j/they_say_terrible_things_happen_if_you_look_into/ | TwoSentenceHorror | PlayedThisGame |
false | I know a lot more people died in your school's shooting, | but you still can't compare it to Columbine. Columbine was a classic. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17esns3/i_know_a_lot_more_people_died_in_your_schools/ | TwoSentenceHorror | floutsch |
false | The first responders were able to bring me back last time. | This time I made sure to include the letters "DNR" as I carved my wrist. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17ecfdy/the_first_responders_were_able_to_bring_me_back/ | TwoSentenceHorror | That1gent |
false | “My dad is a loving parent, he’s never hurt me or my brother…” | “Repeat it again,” my father said in a rage, “you’ll need to sound more convincing in your statement to the police.” | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17dkhq3/my_dad_is_a_loving_parent_hes_never_hurt_me_or_my/ | TwoSentenceHorror | Free-Giraffe8160 |
false | My mother was completely obsessed with encasing her flowers in epoxy to preserve their beauty and color. | Then she realized that we, her family, would eventually grow old and grey. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17e00m4/my_mother_was_completely_obsessed_with_encasing/ | TwoSentenceHorror | AthonRogue |
false | I Googled “piranha solution” and thought it would make a great floor cleaner! | I heard screaming when I accidentally I kicked the bucket full of solution onto the floor and remembered that our duplex is made of wood. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17ecgsb/i_googled_piranha_solution_and_thought_it_would/ | TwoSentenceHorror | cindybubbles |
false | My boyfriend said he liked that I listen to true crime podcasts while I eat. | But now I'm blindfolded and being forcefed while he narrates all the horrendous ways he's about to mutilate me. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17e5juz/my_boyfriend_said_he_liked_that_i_listen_to_true/ | TwoSentenceHorror | an_unfamiliar_person |
false | Collapsing onto the armchair, still bleeding, unable to eat, and barely conscious, I was relieved to finally see a doctor. | "These symptoms are relatively normal for a woman your age; if they persist please see me again." | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17dcl5w/collapsing_onto_the_armchair_still_bleeding/ | TwoSentenceHorror | medUwUsan |
false | I was taught that you always protect your wife against harm and insult. | Yet, as the drunk man continued to bleed and seize on the asphalt it was obvious my life was about to change forever. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17dgu8x/i_was_taught_that_you_always_protect_your_wife/ | TwoSentenceHorror | OneHornyReddit |
false | When he saw the patient's tattoo, he realised that with just a little slip up he could rid the world of another nazi skinhead. | Months later, he still wondered how the money from the malpractice suit was being used. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17dzklt/when_he_saw_the_patients_tattoo_he_realised_that/ | TwoSentenceHorror | Gigantic_potato |
false | The little girl laughed at the beetle scuttling away from her in the hallway. | Her father knew she would pin him to the wall like the rest of her family. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17eh34b/the_little_girl_laughed_at_the_beetle_scuttling/ | TwoSentenceHorror | GandalfVirus |
false | It's a shame that those Bigfoot-researchers followed my footsteps... | They were my best customers, but nobody should know the location of my distiller inside the forest. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17eqj48/its_a_shame_that_those_bigfootresearchers/ | TwoSentenceHorror | ArcanaHUN |
false | Tears of relief rolled down my cheeks as my toddler and I finally reached the sanctuary that would protect us from the zombie horde. | Relief turned to horror as I noticed the bite mark on her little leg. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17edgue/tears_of_relief_rolled_down_my_cheeks_as_my/ | TwoSentenceHorror | Lifegoeson3131 |
false | “I heard Ghosts can cause EMF readings” said Leonid. | But Boris was too busy praying for his family to hear him over the reactor sensor warnings. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17eha56/i_heard_ghosts_can_cause_emf_readings_said_leonid/ | TwoSentenceHorror | GandalfVirus |
false | My dad always told me to bake him a banana bread for his funeral because he would need it for his journey to heaven. | When I was standing at his deathbed he gave me a list filled with survival gear and weapons as he whispered: “I will need it for my journey to hell”. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/17dsdrz/my_dad_always_told_me_to_bake_him_a_banana_bread/ | TwoSentenceHorror | Machizzy |
true | The Uber driver who just wouldn't leave | Was chatting to a friend and remembered this creepy story from the pandemic.
I (30s f) lived alone. I had no car and no shops nearby. It was 9pm and I'd got back from work and realised there was no food in the house so I ordered a grocery delivery on UberEats. I asked them to leave it at the door due to COVID rules.
There was a knock at the door and I saw a tall, skinny guy standing right by it. I shouted through the letterbox to leave it on the floor and back up. He said no and that he had to hand it to me as it had alcohol in it. I hadn't ordered any alcohol so I told him he had the wrong order. He claimed it was correct. I told him sternly to put it on the floor and back up. Again he refused. Stupidly (I was tired) I opened the door a crack to tell him to do it due to COVID rules and he stepped towards the door and put his hand on the handle. I pulled it shut and shouted to leave it or I was reporting him.
He put it down and stepped back. I asked him through the letterbox to back up further. He did, but again when I opened the door he stepped forward. I always remember the chill down my spine when he said 'pretty, very pretty' in a low monotone. I noticed he had his phone out pointed at me and asked what he was doing. He said he had to take a picture, but it was pointed at my face and not the bag on the floor. I grabbed it and slammed the door shut and locked it.
I watched through a crack in the curtains as he stood by the door, pacing back and forth as if he couldn't make up his mind. He knocked but I ignored it. I was getting seriously creepy vibes and called my best mate for advice. She told me to report him and not open the door. I shouted out the letterbox for him to leave but he still stood there. My dog (who is normally the sweetest thing going) had picked up on my anxiety and began barking at the door. He turned and got into his car that was parked across the street from my house.
I kept watching for the next 10 or so mins through my window but he wouldn't leave. He just sat there, but I figured maybe he was picking another order to take.
Suddenly a message popped up on Uber. He told me he'd forgotten a bag in the car and asked me to come get it. I checked my order and it was all there, so I messaged saying it wasn't mine. He got insistent, saying he couldn't leave until I picked it up. He was practically begging me to come to the car, saying it wouldn't take a minute and I could 'grab it from the passenger side'.
I lost my shit. I told him I'd heard what he'd said, that I knew he was taking a pic of me and not the order and that I was calling the police. He still said I had to come get it.
The entire time I was on the phone to the police he was still messaging me, even saying 'the police not come. Pick up order and I leave. Why you making it hard?' The police told me someone would be there within 20 minutes and to stay inside with the doors locked. My dog was going nuts, hackles up, barking. My neighbour's husband (who was 6'4 and built like a brick shed) texted saying he heard a commotion and asked if I was ok. I told him what was going on and he immediately ran out, shouting at the guy that the driver was a predator and to 'fuck off before he got fucked up'. The delivery guy peeled out of there and my neighbours came over to make me a brew and wait for the police.
I made a report to both them and Uber but all I got was an apology from Uber. The police never came back to me. I got a car shortly after and didn't use Uber again until my boyfriend moved in.
So, to the creepy predatory Uber driver, let's not meet again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14nbfay/the_uber_driver_who_just_wouldnt_leave/ | LetsNotMeet | Miliboarder |
true | The Smiling Parking Lot Creep | This happened to me (20F) last summer, and it still gives me chills to think about. That day, I went to the thrift store with my boyfriend (20M), and as we were heading back home, I suggested we pick up some sushi for dinner at our nearby grocery store. As my boyfriend works night shifts, he was already feeling tired, and suggested that I go to the grocery store while he goes back home. We live in the busy part of our city, where the mall, library, city hall, restaurants, major stores, etc. are all a couple minutes away from our home. Not to mention, I live in a relatively safe city with little crime, so I was more than alright with going by myself. Now, I truly wish I hadn't.
As we parted ways, I was walking through the parking lot of the grocery store, when a stocky man, about 6'5, probably in his early to mid 40s, approached me. With a wide smile, and wider eyes, he said "Wow! You are *stunning*." I simply thanked him and tried walking away. He cut me off, saying "I have *never* seen someone as beautiful as you before." I was immediately filled with dread. I looked back, hoping my boyfriend was still in sight. No luck. It may seem like an exaggeration to be wary of a person right off the bat, but having read/watched true crime and horror stories for years, coupled with having extreme social anxiety and being a smaller woman with zero fighting skills, I have always sided with caution. Not to mention, with his eyes and smile, he honestly reminded me of a buffer Art the Clown from Terrifier, minus the clown costume and lack of talking.
The man roped me into a one-sided conversation, asking me my name and how old I was. I gave him a fake name, and told him I was 19. He laughed and said, unnaturally excitedly, "That's good, that means you're a true woman now." What the actual fuck? My boyfriend later told me I should have lied and said I was under 18, as this may have made the man uninterested. From the red flags I got from the man, I seriously doubt that. He then stuck his phone out, asking for my number. I refused, saying I had a boyfriend. "And? I just want to talk to you." I repeated that I had a boyfriend. It was unnerving how his smile never wavered, despite showing that I wasn't interested. Like he wasn't understanding. Or he just didn't care. He sounded confused, but still grinning, he stepped towards me and asked "So you don't want to cheat on your boyfriend?" As if to say *"What do you mean you don't want to go out with a scary ass man that's double your age?*" Speechless, I stepped back and gave pleading looks to the people walking in and out of the grocery store.
After the last time I refused, his smile suddenly dropped, while he placed his hand on my back, saying in a now cold, firm tone "Come on, I have a nice car I can drive you around in. Let's check out one of these restaurants." Seeing a person’s entire demeanour change with the flip of a switch was something I only saw in movies/TV shows, and seeing it in this situation fucking terrified me. Going into panic mode, I somehow found the courage to push myself off of him and almost shouted, "Sorry, I really have to go buy my groceries." Noticing that people were staring at us, his sick smile reappeared, and said with a low voice, "Alright then, I'll see you later, \*fake name\*." I practically ran into the grocery store with so much relief. I glanced back, hoping to see him get in his car to try getting his license plate number, only to see the man just standing in the middle of the parking lot, leering at me. Shit.
I called my boyfriend in the store, but it kept going to voicemail. I figured he was sleeping, and I was seriously scared to walk back home. I managed to calm myself down in the store, figuring the man must have been long gone. Yet, I was on high alert the entire walk home. It was starting to get dark, but I figured if I just stayed cautious and walked quickly I would be fine. I couldn't be more wrong.
When I was approaching the crosswalk that led to my street, I heard a car pulling up to the sidewalk, followed by a sickeningly familiar voice barking, "HEY! HI! HEY! HI!" My heart dropped into my stomach. I glanced sideways at the car. With his unmistakable, now malicious-looking grin plastered on his face, the man's upper body was leaning out of his car window, as if he was trying to reach out to me. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He tauntingly called out, "So where's your boyfriend?" while cackling. From everything I've learned from true crime and horror stories, I figured it was best not to acknowledge the man. My mind racing while trying to appear composed, I knew I couldn't lead him to my house, and turning back to go to the mall or stores may have given away that I was terrified and trying to escape. Bless whoever designed my neighbourhood, as the city's rec centre was conveniently right next to my complex. I ignored him and casually crossed the street, quickening my pace as I headed into the rec centre. I tried not to look back, scared that I would see the man running up on me. with his wide grin, but I made it into the rec centre and finally looked behind me.
I assumed the man would have followed me in, or waited for me in his car. Instead, he sped away down a street opposite from my house. With so much relief, I called my boyfriend, who woke up to my call. I was on the verge of breaking down, but managed to fill him in on everything. He rushed to the rec centre, and after he helped me calm down, we walked home. My boyfriend asked if I got the man's license plate number, to which I felt like a fucking idiot. Not only was it too dark, but I was too consumed with fear for my own life that it didn't even cross my mind at the time. At the very least, I called the police, giving them a description of the man, and the make and model of his car. They said they would do what they could, but I haven't heard back from them.
I haven't seen that man since, not in person at least. Because I still see that man's smile in my dreams, haunting me for countless nights, plaguing my mind. Thinking about the sadistic, glaring look he had in his car reminds me that he was overjoyed to realize that I was alone and vulnerable. That my seemingly safe city isn't as safe as I thought. At the same time, I feel so grateful that the man never found out where I live. But, for all I know, he could be lurking around, trying to harm other women like he tried to that night he almost trailed me home. For mine, and the women in my city's sake, I hope I don't have to find out. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14no4gp/the_smiling_parking_lot_creep/ | LetsNotMeet | Embarrassed-Gas-4909 |
true | The people who tried to kidnap me while camping | I (m) was 9 when this happened. My sister, my dad, my stepmom, and I were at a place called Palmetto Island. It was a camping resort where you just pull up with a tent or camper and just stay there for a weekend or so. We were in a camper. Before I get into the actual story I should set the scene. Palmetto Island wasn’t really an island in the traditional sense. It was completely surrounded by palm trees and vegetation except for the road in and out. There were roads in the resort but they were only for golf carts and other smaller vehicles. The whole place was also dense with palm trees and vegetation. If you weren’t on the road, in a campsite, or at one of the recreational areas you would be in a forest. Now for actual story.
We (my family) were all hanging at only of the playgrounds. I had made a new friend who I was playing with. At some point, the rest of my family had left me to play with my new friend, until eventually he left too. I was there alone and the sun was beginning to set. This wasn’t the first time we’d been to Palmetto Island and I had, at the time, known the pretty well. I had assumed that the walk back to our campground would be short, however at some point I gotten turned around and ended up at the area where you would launch boats into the water to go fishing. There was a group of people there and I asked them for directions. Now I wasn’t completely brain dead so I lied and said the number of our campsite was about 10 sites down from our actual campsite. They pointed me in the right direction and I started walking. Now I hadn’t known this at the time but my family had realized I was no longer at the playground and started driving around in our golf cart and another one they had rented. If they hadn’t I probably wouldn’t be telling this story. As I’m walking toward our campsite, a car pulls up beside me and one of the people I had asked for directions rolls down the window. Keep in mind I had been walking for about an hour or two in total. He offers me a ride and tells me to ride in the front seat. Me, tired and weary from walking, accepts and gets in the car. I know, now, that that is something you should never do. We’re driving in the right direction until he pass up the entrance to the campsites, at which point I know something is wrong. I tell him he passed it up and he doesn’t respond. By some stroke of devine luck I see my dad in a golf cart driving the opposite direction as us and I start yelling and waving at him. He pulls up in front of the car and stops, and so does the guy driving. I use the manual unlock in the car door and run to my dad, who has his conceal carry drawn on the guy as soon as I’m out of the way. He calls the police and holds the guy at gun point until they get there and they arrest him.
I’m only now telling this story because I found out last week that guy and his whole family had done this before, and they had gotten away with it. I try not to think about what would have happened to me had my dad not showed up when he did.
Creepy family that tried to kidnap me, let’s not meet. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14nlwyv/the_people_who_tried_to_kidnap_me_while_camping/ | LetsNotMeet | MosqitoTorpedo |
true | Creepy guy on my block | I was just on my front lawn looking up at the moon and listening to music when I heard a voice. I looked to my right and saw a man talking on the phone. He was just standing on the corner of the street.
He noticed me looking at him and very obviously turned his face at me. I don't know why, but I kept eye contact. We stood looking at each other for about a minute, I'd say, before he hung up and walked to his car, which was parked in front of the corner house.
Now I can't be sure, but as he walked his phone flashlight quickly lit up 2 times. I think he took a picture of me. The only reason I'm not sure of this is because I was too far away for him to get any meaningful details from the pic, except for my general shape and my house, and it just seems like a dumb move to have left the flash on.
Anyway, he gets in his car and does a u-turn. Had he followed through with the turn and continued down the road, he would've reached a light that led out of the suburbs and into the city. But instead he stops at the head of my road and blocks off almost the entire street, forcing an incoming car to make a somewhat awkward right turn.
After the car leaves, the weird dude pulls into my street and ever so slowly drives past me. His windows were tinted so I couldn't see what he was doing but part of me feels like he was filming.
After he passes me, he picks up speed and carries on down the road, which is a dead end. However before he makes it to the end of the road, he pulls into a driveway, then speeds on and out of my road.
Something that I'm not sure if I actually saw correctly because I was looking through a tree, I think he mightve actually been leaning out his window once he passed. This would explain why it seemed to me that his car was veering off towards the right.
Anyway, sorry if this isn't the correct place for it. I'm a little spooked becsuse it was just really random. We also have neighbors who have been arrested many times for beating their wives, girlfriends and children. They've also been arrested/had their truck taken for selling drugs. So it's just generally kinda sketchy anyway and I never know of other sketchy people are in kahoots or not. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14nljqi/creepy_guy_on_my_block/ | LetsNotMeet | Dmanduck |
true | The Guy who followed me in the petstore | I was about 12. Me and my mum had gone to a town 45 minutes out to do some shopping with some of her friends. I had a corn snake at the time, so I asked her if I could walk around a petstore one door down from the mini supermarket she was shopping in to compare the prices of frozen mice with our local seller. She said sure, just to come back as soon as I was done.
The petstore had been there as long as I remember. It had a very warehouse feel about it and was poorly lit by dim florescent lights too far above the floor. Before checking out the mice, I just wanted to check out the rest of the store, being the curious 12 year old I was.
As I was roaming the aisles, I noticed you. You were in every aisle I strolled down. Bald, middle aged, a bit tubby, wearing dark blue plumbers overalls over a white shirt. It was summer, and it was hot, I remember wondering why on earth you would come into a non air conditioned building in that. You carried a basket, but there was nothing in it. As you slowly stalked me down the aisles, I noticed your basket wasn't getting any more full. I started walking faster, taking random turns down different aisles to see if I was just being paranoid but you were always 10-15 feet behind me.
At some point I finally thought I lost you, I power walked out of the petstore and as soon as I cleared the doors I sprinted down the street to the mini supermarket my mum was in. She hadn't even made it down the second aisle completely. I caught up to her, immediately stripped off my bright pink hoodie and slung it in the cart, as well as ripped the hair tie out of my hair. I was smart for doing that, because when I looked back at the door you were standing there, still carrying the basket from the petstore and scanning the store for any sight of a 12 year old girl in a bright pink hoodie and ponytail.
When we left. I saw you in your van as you drove away. A plain white van, like something out of a true crime documentary or horror film. I think about you sometimes, and how if you'd caught me before I got to that supermarket on that quiet Wednesday afternoon what horrors could have been waiting me in the back of that van.
Guy in the overalls who followed me out of the petstore without even putting down his basket, even after 10 years, let's not ever meet again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14n5ze4/the_guy_who_followed_me_in_the_petstore/ | LetsNotMeet | ghoulish_desire |
true | Car attacked in parking lot | Yesterday, my friend and I were about to exit her car to stop into the store when we saw a man about 30 ft away point at us and start running top speed at our car.
We had no clue who this man was, so we lock the car, roll up the windows, and lock the doors.
This man starts banging HARD on the passenger window, pressing his face all over the window and staring at us.
My friend goes to put the car in drive to leave and this man runs in front of the car and starts banging on the hood, using his body to stop us from leaving.
It was so aggressive and unhinged we thought he might jump on our car or break a window.
He then came back to the passenger window and started banging harder and smearing his lips and mouth all over the window. And he had odd, erratic facial movements— gnashing his teeth at us and pressing his face all over the window.
Then as quickly as it started, he stopped and walked away.
There were also two men nearby that clearly could have seen and heard the situation, but did nothing about it.
We originally thought this man was mentally ill or on drugs of some sort.
We are now wondering if something more was going on after noticing the two men nearby loitering but not doing anything to help when we were clearly being attacked.
Random man in parking lot, let’s not meet again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14neoc3/car_attacked_in_parking_lot/ | LetsNotMeet | Key_Dragonfruit9070 |
true | The new guy at the gas station |
Not sure if this is the correct place for this but hopefully you guys can shed some light. Also sorry for the text wall and spelling, I'm typing on my phone at work.
For context I'm 27 M, 6ft, about 210 pounds and definitely don't frighten easy.
So a few months ago I made a trip up to the local gas station to grab some beer, I walked in like usual and notice a new guy working the register, he says hello in a friendly tone as I walk passed and I do the same in return. I got to the back and grabbed my beer, walked to the front. Very typical, nothing out of the ordinary. So I set my beer on the counter and this is where it happened. I made eye contact with the new guy and instantly my blood ran cold and and my adrenaline rushed, my fight or flight was triggered and I could feel every hair on my body standing on end, it almost seemed time slowed to a crawl and this dude was just starring through my soul. I can barely describe the instant sense of danger and impending doom. Every part of my being was screaming, you're in danger, run, now. All of this was in the span of a couple seconds but it felt like an eternity. The silence was broken when he said what my total was, I was unable to break eye contact, it was impossible while I fumbled with my wallet. I set I 5 dollar bill on the counter and quickly walked out not even waiting for my change. I had a massive panic attack in my truck and almost crashed on my way home...
I told my wife what happened, she chalked it up to "a guy scared me".
I told my friends about it and they thought I was insane...
I stopped talking about it but the feeling and the image of this guy were stuck with me.
A week or so after that encounter I had a low tire on my trailer so I stopped at that same gas station, I had change on me So I wouldn't have to go inside for any reason.
While I'm crouched down airing up my tire I start getting the same intense feeling, that feeling of danger, the feeling of panic and that I need to run... confused yet alert I lift my head to look around. This mf is glaring at me from the window of the gas station... blank expression, just starring me down like I'm being sized up or something. He watches me get in my truck and drive away and I swear I didn't see him blink once.
The next day I've had enough and I'm getting to the bottom of this dammit. So I decide I'm gonna go talk to this guy and figure out what the hell is going on because this ain't right.
I get to the gas station and it's the usual lady working.
I asked her about the new guy and when he'd be back around, she told me he actually quit working there that day.
I was relived and confused at the same time but I figured I could finally forget about all that strange crap and move on.... Haven't seen the guy since but that feeling and that face still remains burned in my head like it was yesterday. I still don't go to that gas station just so I don't have to think about it.... anyway, has this ever happened to you guys? I've tried talking to people and they always give me the same crap about it.
If anyone has a clue on what could've caused this please let me know.... thanks for reading. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14n7rw5/the_new_guy_at_the_gas_station/ | LetsNotMeet | SpookyBlanco |
true | The Man In The Raincoat | I’ve wanted to post/tell this story for YEARS. And now I finally have a way to share it. This is going to be a long read but it will tell you about the scariest experience of my life.
(TLDR version at the bottom.)
I was 15 years old living in a medium sized city in North Florida (About 60,000 people but some areas were really spread out and rural). Don’t think of it like NYC or anything, more like a lot of houses spread out over a huge area and condensed shopping centers.
I was a bit of a punk that my parents had a hard time controlling, so that meant I basically snuck out constantly and was always riding my bike around the city all hours of the night with my friends, fighting and constantly causing trouble. For reference, I was probably 5’10 and 150 pounds. My next door neighbors were my best friends, let’s call them Nick and Tim. Nick was younger than us and probably 5’5 and 140 pounds and Tim was 5’8 and easily 210. Nick and Tim were brothers only a year or so apart. On that night Tim had texted me around 1 am asking me to ride bikes with him and his brother to his girlfriends house so he can get lucky. I remember being hesitant because of how long the bike ride was ( I just looked it up and it was 9.6 miles from my house to her street ). But, Tim begged and begged me to go until I agreed. Our city had a curfew, meaning any police in the area that saw you and assumed you were a minor would stop you and possibly issue you a ticket and bring you home. That meant we had to be careful about being seen by cars going by. Well, the bike ride to her house went by without any issues. We took our time, joked around, smoked a little pot and genuinely just enjoyed the ride together. We ran out of what little pot we had on the way and finally got to his girlfriends house. After what felt like an hour. Tim snuck around the back to go in and Nick and I just sat on an electrical box and talked. Maybe 30 minutes went by and tim triumphantly snuck out of the house bragging about his time in there and says we should head out. Annoyed at how long it took and nearly sober we both agreed.
The first mile of the ride went by smoothly. But, things changed.
We had just passed a decent size shopping center (closed) and a church.
We rode by it slowly, in zero rush at all. After we passed it, it lead to a long stretch of road with woods and canals on each side. The road name is ____ Parkway, two lanes on each side separated by palm trees and landscaping in the middle. Sidewalks on both sides and on the right side another road connects to the parkway. We were riding on the right hand sidewalk.
Off in the distance we saw a very tall older man wearing a yellow raincoat and a large backpack. He was walking back and forth on the sidewalk under a streetlight on the corner of the parkway and the side street. We all went silent as we got closer. I don’t think he could’ve seen or heard us, as there were no lights over us, and there were sprinklers going off in the median.
I remember hearing him dragging his feet across the ground, and mumbling. He was dragging his feet almost like he was trying to brush away the concrete to find something underneath it. The mumbling was incoherent and frantic. Honestly, it made my heart sink and my stomach knot up. I couldn’t understand anything he was saying and the only way to go to get home was to go by him.
Nick said yo, let’s cross the street and get onto the other sidewalk. Tim and I agreed. I remember this so distinctly, we crossed the landscaped median and a jet of sprinkler water hit me directly in the face and got into my mouth and my eyes. It smelled like Sulfur and tasted horribly.
On the other side we could hear the mumbling and scraping of his feet clearer. I could now see more details about him. He was smoking a cigarette and was probably 6’5, had on a huge green backpack, was extremely skinny, had long gray hair, was wearing combat boots and blue ripped jeans and that he had a full white beard.
He didn’t seem to notice us until we were directly across from him. We all had our eyes locked in his direction when he suddenly stopped walking, talking and scraping his feet, looked up from the ground and let out this god awful screech. It was like he tried to say 100 words at once. None of us knew what he tried to say. After the initial scream I could make out “WHAT THE F*** ARE YOU DOING”. It startled us, we were now 25 yards away from him and then he screams “WHAT THE F*** ARE YOU LOOKING AT”. I was a foolish teenager, I piped up to say something smart and Tim riding next to me grabbed onto me and said “Don’t say a f***** word”. So I didn’t, and in hind sight I am so glad I didn’t. He kept screaming in our direction and we kept riding. The further we rode, the fainter the screaming got. Then, it stopped.
We crossed the street again to the other side and made it about a mile down the road, all of us on edge. We glanced over our shoulders constantly to make sure he wasn’t following us. We talked briefly about it, how strange it was etc. but we were glad it was over with. Or so we thought.
Nick and Tim were riding in front of me when I thought I heard something behind me. I turned around and there he was. Maybe an arms length away, headed directly for me. The yellow raincoat hood was pulled up over his head and buttoned.
This guy, was standing up on his mountain bike pedaling as hard as he could, we locked eyes and… He started Screaming. I mean SCREAMING. He screamed not words, not any language, a fucking constant scream as loud as he could. I have the chills writing this even now, as a 25 year old grown ass man with a wife and a baby. If someone ever illustrated that image, and I saw it I would probably have a panic attack.
I screamed HES RIGHT BEHIND US and stood up pedaling as hard as I could, I think we all did. And he was right behind us the whole time, screaming. Every so often he would get right on top of us, screaming and trying to knock us off of our bikes.
I don’t know how long we rode with him behind us but it felt like eternity. I think age played a factor because he must’ve got tired and let us get ahead a bit.
Exhausted we pulled into a neighborhood, and stared cutting through yards trying to lose him. We jumped off our bikes and all just decided if he’s still chasing us, we were going to make our stand together and fight. It was like a hive mind decision, all too tired to keep running it was our only option.
We waited for him, but he never came. I don’t even remember hearing him, I still can’t recall when we lost him.
I called my house phone waking both my parents up in the process and told my dad about the situation. He told me to get home and figure it out. I asked to talk to my mother, and she yelled at me on the phone and refused to come pick us up as I stood in the middle of the street hoping this crack head didn’t come and kill us all.
I got home, with Nick and Tim in tow who asked if they could crash in my room. Of course I said yes, I think we all still have some weird feelings about that night, and we never really spoke of it again.
I don’t know what he wanted, he was clearly on drugs. But it makes me wonder if he would’ve robbed us, or worse.
TLDR
Rode bikes in the night time, crazy drugged up guy screamed at us and chased all around town on his bike.
So yeah, Rain Coat man… Let’s not meet.
Edit(s) Grammar, spelling mistakes | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14mqfi5/the_man_in_the_raincoat/ | LetsNotMeet | [deleted] |
true | the man at the door | hello, this story happened years ago . when I was 5 years old , when I was alone with my big brother . because my parents worked to earn more money to spoil me and my brother . here is my story .
​
it was past 10 p.m. when I was watching a movie with my brother. when there's a message on your phone, saying our parents will be back soon. when the film suddenly stops, there is no power failure when the lamp was still on, so he tells me to go to bed and that we will finish the film another day . I ask him if I can sleep with him, since he was 15 he can't see that he doesn't like anyone sleeping in his bed with him. I ask him if I can sleep with him, since he was 15 he doesn't want anyone sleeping in his bed with him. I suggest he stay until I fall asleep. when we heard noises at the door, which is not normal since our parents had the keys . but the Noises are getting louder and louder, the person knew that we hadn't moved. until the person speaks. "the children are the neighbor open the door for me" . my brother was ready to open when I said. "what is your name? because our neighbors are sleeping at this hour", my brother barely had time to understand that he answered. "its Benita Neel crafted me the Dodds". my brother replied. "You're in the wrong house, here it's the Smiths", "stop lying, you just didn't want to open the door to me" replied the alleged neighbor. and it has barely time to finish that we hear sirens in the street behind our building. as understood that one of our neighbors woke up with the noise so he fled. then our parents open the door in panic for us to be strong in their arms.
It wasn't until years later that I had the final word of the story that my brother won't know, because he was murdered. "the man who came the night of 2004", I answer him a little perplexed, "what man?" , "the man who claims to be a neighbor", "ha yes I remember it", she changed her face, from happy to sad, "the man was wanted by the police for having murdered 3 children alone in their home" "he kills them for what? and why children alone?" "he kills them to squat with families at night", a bit in shock I answer him "what... what, why does he kill children alone instead of killing elderly people?" , "because he can't, himself an old person" "okay but how old was he?" "he was 70", I left a bit of silence to speak. "He doesn't want to pay taxes?" "yes is he taking revenge for the murder of his grandchildren by killing other children" "how many years did he take in prison?" "a life sentence with a parole in 2012" "and he was released?" "no because he tried to escape, except that his co-detainee told him to a guard, his co-detainee was released, because he could also get out if he behaved correctly and put him 5 years in prison. sooner the liberation". | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14mwope/the_man_at_the_door/ | LetsNotMeet | Eternel-Sunny |
true | Hotel Creeper | Kinda long so my apologies. When I was 19, I worked nights at this shitty hotel chain in my hometown and it was generally pretty chill. You’d get your weirdos/creeps but I can handle my own and I got used to it pretty quickly. However, this guy was way worse than anything I had encountered up until that point.
It was an average night, spent checking guests in, doing laundry, stocking, etc. There were two sets of doors at the entrance, the inner ones being locked after night shift starts. Dude shows up around 3 am, and rings me through the lobby phone set between the two doors. Immediately before I can even get my customer service on, he starts frantically demanding I call “medical transport” which I didn’t really know what he was talking about but I try to help him best I can, asking questions.
Eventually I just let him in so I can get a better idea of how to help but when I do, his whole tone immediately changes. He starts speaking in this monotone voice and has the kinda… dead stare?? I’ve never seen eyes so void of all emotions. AND not to mention, he had no physical signs of injury. At all. Obviously I was freaked out but tried my best to carry on normally, asking him more questions. After the first 2 questions, he just stops answering completely and continues staring. I keep repeating myself and he’s just staring.
At this point, I’m pretty fed up with him so I say “Alright I’m just going to call 911 to get you help.” He then starts getting frantic again, going between begging me not to call and saying, “they won’t let me go” and “I can’t go back there”. I tell him that I’m really not sure how to help him if he won’t let me call emergency services so he needs to leave. He didn’t even seem to need medical assistance in the first place.
This guy goes right back to ignoring everything I say and staring. Honestly I should’ve just call the police right then but I was overwhelmed by him and getting police involved is always a last resort for me. So I say, “you can rest here for 20 min and try to find alternative transportation but then you need to go” and I go into the back to watch him on the cameras. 20 mins go by and I come out to tell him to leave but he starts arguing nonsensically. I go back into the back in exasperation. The cycle then repeats for like 2 more hours. Finally I tell him I’m calling the police, to which he replies, “well if you’re going to be like that, I’ll just leave” LOLLL shit was comical at this point. I’m like “PLEASE DO I VE WANTED THAT THIS WHOLE TIME!!” I was so done with him so I was basically yelling. He finally leaves. I did call the cops and report him too.
The freakiest part was that while telling my bf at the time about this guy, he recognizes him from my description of his creepy ass stare and pulls up his MUGSHOT with charges for r-pe, aggravated sexual assault, and a bunch of other shit !!! My then bf worked at a homeless shelter for some years and had seen the guy from time to time. After that, I felt so lucky that he was just a weird creepy annoyance for me. Who knows what would’ve gone down in different circumstances.
Creepy hotel guy? Let’s not meet!! | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14ltbf1/hotel_creeper/ | LetsNotMeet | pissboyyy |
true | Man who tried to run me off the road… on purpose. | I was driving home from house sitting in another city, it takes me about 6 hours to do this drive on my motorcycle because I have to pull over regularly to massage feeling back into my butt and stretch my legs.
I left around 1130am and missed a weather alert with thunderstorm warnings along my route. This road takes me through mountain passes with lots of hairpin turns. Normal speed is 80km/hr and a couple of these turns have posted speeds going as low as 30km/hr. It is hailing, and pouring rain, full on thunderstorm weather. I am doing my best to keep to the speed limit while also being safe, and there is nowhere to pull over and wait it out, and not that many passing lanes.
On the last hair pin turn I slow down to take it at the posted speed. This huge truck who’s been behind me for about 15 min pulls into the oncoming lane (illegally) and speeds up next to me laying on the horn. It’s a blind corner. He sees oncoming traffic coming at him. Instead of doing the smart thing and slowing down to get back behind me he decides to gun it. If I hadn’t downshifted when I realized what he was going to do he would have nailed me with the 30’ trailer he was dragging behind him sending me flying off the cliff next to us.
The next town is about 20min away. I pull into a gas station to dry out a little and calm down after what had just happened. I watch him just drive away.
About two hours later, I pull into a fruit stand to grab a snack and take a break. This is now three towns further down the highway. Lo and behold he sees my motorcycle and pulls in to have a go at me. Yells at me that he had to teach me a lesson for slowing down on the highway (to the posted speed limits for safe turns). When I asked him what he would have done if he’d killed me he told me it would have been my own fault and he would have laughed as I went over the cliff.
So yea. Guy who tried to run me off a cliff, let’s not meet again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14kzb45/man_who_tried_to_run_me_off_the_road_on_purpose/ | LetsNotMeet | OtterlySublime |
true | Homeless Man turned CEO turned Potential Kidnapper? | Thought I'd share an old story. Still not totally sure how to discern this one though.
For context I was like 17F when this happened and it was in a residential neighborhood where it's not all that common to find homeless people. So one day I was in some brushes at my usual smoke spot (near a public space but hidden) and a man walks up and finds me on accident. He looks half unkempt and half clean, ripped but washed jeans, long hair but combed and clean shaven, big backpack but has a wallet and a phone. Still, I assume he's a homeless guy. I try to be polite but also careful because I am a young girl at this time and that's the nature of life. But he's also in a position where I can't get out of my spot without walking directly passed him and he's kinda blocking my exit with his body.
Anyhow he starts making conversation, just generally talking about if I like the town we live in, stuff like that. At one point he starts going into all these crazy stories about how he's the love child of like... James Dean and some golden age actress or something like that I literally can't remember and he's talking about all this time spent with Cher and I'm just sitting there nodding politely pretending to believe it and hoping he'll just go away. Then he starts getting into how he's the founder of the ARC (a chain thrift store), again I know this is bullshit because I knew the history of the ARC from personal family ties to it. He's showing me all this proof and it's like old ARC business cards and stuff that anyone could've grabbed from the counter. Then he starts trying to tell me he owns most of the apartment buildings in town and he'll rent me an apartment building for cheap, again the proof he's showing me is random notes in his wallet that he's illegibly scribbled on.
At this point he's been spewing lies for the better part of an hour and I know he's not just gonna walk away if I let him keep going. But still, I'm assuming he's just a lonely homeless guy making up lies for fun. So I make up my own lie and say I have to get to work and slide past him, hoping that'll be that. But then he starts following me back to my car and insists I take his "business card" - it's some random guys business card with his name and phone number written on the back (god knows if they were real info). I take it, then keep walking, and he keeps following. And this is when he starts asking more personal questions and my red flags start raising.
He begins asking if I live alone, if I still live with my family, if I live with just my mom or my dad too. Am I close with my family? Am I happy at home? Do I have any brothers? How many brothers? Older or younger? (Specifically brothers, never asks if I have sisters) A lot of this stuff that just makes me think he's gauging not only what level of protection I have but also who would be looking for me if I was gone and whether or not I was looking to run away or looking for someone to put my trust into. Just very traffick-y kidnapp-y stuff.
To end this all I told him I lived with my dad and my three brothers all of whom loved me very much and were very protective and loved to work out. He says okay but that if I ever needed to escape home for a little or needed a place to live I had his business card and I should call him and he'd house me for free. I kept walking, he kept following, and I was not about to go back to my car and let him know what I drove and my license plate so I just sort of stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and at a crossroad and stepped aside and pretended to fiddle with my phone and he walked in the other direction and I booked it to my car and left.
I was wigged out but also you know it still could've been an innocent interaction and I do stand by that, but the way it added up just freaked me out. So I filed a harassment police report, which they did not want to take but I forced them to just in case something happened to me or someone else.
A week or two later I'm at a shop in a different neighborhood, though one close by and I'm in the checkout line and I glance behind me, and there's the guy. I look down, he's not holding anything to buy. So I try and stay calm, hand my stuff to the cashier and ask her to hold it for me, and then I quickly walk out to my car, making sure he hasn't followed me again and go home. I don't think he followed me to the store in anyway, at most he saw me walk in from the parking lot and came in after me, but I think more likely he was already in there and just spotted me and walked up behind me. Or it's none of the above.
That's the thing is I really cannot tell if this was just me overreacting to a slightly odd possibly homeless man or if it could've been something more sinister had my responses and behaviors been different. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14k9b3a/homeless_man_turned_ceo_turned_potential_kidnapper/ | LetsNotMeet | kaailer |
true | Reality show pitch was a kidnapping attempt? | ** I DO NOT GIVE AUTHORIZATION TO USE OR SHARE MY STORY FOR VIEWS ON OTHER PLATFORMS. **
EDIT: To all the people making negative comments about my ** and “boring” story. I’m glad my story was boring compared to the alternative where something terrible did happen to my family and I for your entertainment purposes. I never intended to share my story for you to be entertained. I shared it in case others have experienced something similar or even possibly encountered the same lady.
Additionally, do you guys really think my ** was intended for you random nobodies? No. It was intended for people with actual followings and large view counts on other platforms i.e. YouTube, TikTok, and etc. I could care less if some random pricks on reddit shared this story. I’m not deleting my **.
EDIT 2: I wasn’t going to mention this but every once in a while, I keep getting a request for this post. I’ve had +6 ppl msg me asking for permission to narrate my story on their Youtube channels. Some were nicer than others in their requests. Please stop.
So in case anyone has heard or experienced something similar, this happened around 2005-2009 in San Diego, California. I don’t quite remember my exact age at the time it happened but I was probably 9-12 yrs old.
It was a boring night so my mom, little sister, and I decided to go to Walmart just to get out of the house. This particular Walmart shares the same parking lot as a Kohl’s or Target. As we were walking around in our pjs in the store, a lady approached us and complimented my sister and I for being “so cute and pretty.” She proceeded to say that she works for a TV network and her job is to scout/cast families for their reality show. She asked if our dad was in the store with us and even though we didn’t have a dad, I lied and said he’s at home for my mom who doesn’t speak English. I didn’t want to say he was in the store in case she would ask to speak to him. The lady who looked quite normal, friendly, and kind of bubbly continued to compliment my family for being beautiful. As she was talking, I translated it to my mom and we all felt flattered but skeptical by her compliments. Then she said she would love to cast us if we would follow her to her house so she can properly film everything to submit to the company.
This was the moment I started averting my eyes to check the shelfs for hidden cameras. During this time, family reality and prank shows were really popular so it made the whole situation feel a bit more plausible that we were either really being scouted or this was a hidden camera prank. I was leaning towards it being a prank because we were 1. boring people and 2. weren’t particularly “so pretty and beautiful” as she claimed. Even though I was young and so didn’t feel an immediate danger talking to her in the middle of Walmart with my mom present; I knew it was ridiculous to follow a stranger to their house especially late at night. I then politely declined her offer which she asked a few more times before telling us if we change our mind, we can find her in the store.
When she left, we checked up and down the aisles for camera crews or hidden cameras because her whole reality show pitch to a first-gen. Asian immigrant family seemed unbelievable and it can only be a prank we thought. I also noted to my mom how it was odd we didn’t even notice her following us earlier when we walked every aisle and she just came out of nowhere. As a kid who watched a lot of true crime and forensic shows i.e. Forensic Files and CSI; I told my mom what if she was trying to lure us into a trap. When we follow her home, there could be more men there and what if they kill us or traffic us? We were probably easy targets since we were only three women, two being kids, and immigrants. My mom also thought it was weird but instead of going straight to our car, we waited for some time to pass in case the lady/her people would follow us to our car and home.
To this day, sometimes this encounter would creep its way out of my memory bank and make me wonder what if we followed her that day. What did she have planned for us? Was she one of those bad women you hear working with others in order to lure other women and children? Has she done this before and was she successful with other people? I hope no one was harmed from her scheme…let’s not meet again lady. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14jog3k/reality_show_pitch_was_a_kidnapping_attempt/ | LetsNotMeet | xcuriouscat |
true | Man followed me in the woods? | I normally go walking in the woods with a friend and today nobody was available so I went by myself about 7 pm. I parked the car and went into the entrance. There was one other car there and a jogger passed me on my way in. I decided to go off the main track there's a smaller track about ten to twenty meters down you can follow instead. Its a wooded area but can get back to the main track in five minutes if i want to. I was debating If I should continue on the smaller track straight following the main track or go down to the more wooded area where there is a pathway. So am standing there. I see a man in the distance in the main track walking towards the main entrance. He notices me and stops walking. He is staring at me now with a huge grin for about 20 seconds. He is in his 50s or 60s with an extremely creepy face. My guts drop. I'm thinking if I walk back onto the main track he will be there if he stops staring and continues walking the main track, we will meet at a similar time and nobody else is here. I am thinking he will continue walking on and I will wait until he leave and just go because im feeling super unsafe. I'm regretting coming here by myself.
He ends up walking down the hill at a diagonal while i see he's staring straight at me. Hes making a b line for me. I now am freaking out but think maybe he's going down the other path way. There is nobody walking the main track in the distance. I walk up to the main track. I notice he's doing a c shape, going down to where I was standing and now he's coming up to the main track again and is behind me. He's not running but his eyes are fixated on me and he's smirking since he spotted me. I'm freaked out. I get to the main track which is covered by trees on each side. Hes clearly following me right? Why else would you go down and up like that exactly where I am walking up? He's about six metres from me, I am getting ready to run to the entrance which would take 5 minutes. He is walking further to the right up the hill so he will meet me on the main track. I am freaking out. He could grab me, he could have a weapon. I am too scared to take my phone out. The fact he has been following me without a word only hearing the leaves breaking under his boots behind me in the woods while stalking me is terrifying.
A couple come in and I am extremely relieved, they are walking so fast so am worried once they pass me he could run after me. My car doors don't lock properly and the engine sometimes stalls so am freaking out that it might happen now. He ends up stopping at the main track sfter seeing the couple. I walk so fast. He is now walking super slow, still staring and staying in the wood, been doing a predatory stare for 10 minutes fixated on me. When I got in my car I drove slowly to be able to identify him properly he doesn't come out until I'm way down the road. I'm now wondering should I have stayed parked and got a picture of him? Or recorded him on video and said you were following me? Or told the couple I am being followed? I drove away super shaken up and hea gone forever. I can't even describe. All I remember is his really creepy smirking face and grey hair and thinking I am lucky if I get out of here. I'm so angry that I can go for a short walk on a hiking Trail without being in danger. I can't imagine what could have happened if I met him further into the trail. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14jqo1p/man_followed_me_in_the_woods/ | LetsNotMeet | Alliances3 |
true | Road side brawl | *I apologize for format, I'm on mobile.*
Two weeks ago, my fiancé (M 24), future father in law (M 53) and myself (F 24), take a little road trip to pick up some Jazz Cabbage in a different state as we live in a dry state. The drive up was uneventful as per usual.
However, on the way back home we had passed a slower moving vehicle (a white truck) and we were coming into a town where the speed came from 45 to 35 mph. As we start to slow, this white truck nearly rams into the back of us. I am sitting in the back at this point and turn to look over my shoulder and can see the white truck swereved into the other lane to avoid hitting us.
At this point, my FFIL is the one driving and motions a "wtf" gesture to the truck behind us. The driver of the white truck proceeds to tell him to pull over. My FFIL, being a hot head, obliges and pulls over. He steps out of the vehicle and says some ... colorful language towards the other car. The driver of the white truck is also out of his vehicle and walking up into my FFILs face. At this point my fiancé steps out and I follow, I see things getting heated between these two men and I throw myself in between them.
*Everything next happened so fast, im going to try my best to recap*
As I'm between everyone, the driver of the white truck pushes past me and shoves my FFIL. This gets my fiancé to step in "Hey don't push my dad!" To try and split them up.
Next thing we see is the other passenger in the vehicle (easily in 40s and close to 500 lbs) sucker punches my fiancé (255 lbs). "You just fucking punched me"
Some how I get pushed to the ground and my guys are fighting the other guys. Fist are flying, they're rolling down into the ditch, the guy that was 500 is on my fiancé, pulling his hair and scratching him.
Now, im against jumping, but this man had 300 pounds on my baby. I jump in, I start punching and kicking and doing anything I can to get this man off of him. My FFIL is quaking the main guy in the other vehicle in a choke hold. He can see that we're struggling with the big guy and forgets the main guy to hit the other guy in the face until he got off my fiancé.
Cops were called, everyone was separated.. The party in the white truck decided not to press charges, we agreed to not press charges and were sent on our way.
So to the men in the white truck, let's not meet again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14ji4c1/road_side_brawl/ | LetsNotMeet | Salty_Bumblebee_3142 |
true | My creepy ass landlords | Recently I moved out of my apartment, I simply had to because I didn’t feel safe with my landlords. I lived in this really nice Dumbo apartment in Brooklyn for a few months with my roommate (who paid for most of the rent since her parents are super rich). Our landlords were actually this *seemingly* really sweet couple who lived a few floors above with their kids.
The first few weeks were somewhat normal except for the fact that every time I saw their kids in the elevator they would scream at me before they got off and then just ran away. I thought it was funny and cute at first but then their eldest son came to visit and started doing the same thing, and he looked about my age. I didn’t really think much of it since maybe he was just playing with his younger siblings.
Shit got weird really when I bumped into all of them together and we talked for a bit. Out of nowhere while we were having a pleasant conversation the dad apologized to me saying that his son might act strange “because he’s a y’know… a r**ard.” I was pretty shocked with him just saying that out of the blue. I paused for a bit and I can’t really remember what I said but remember just wanting to get the hell out of this conversation now.
A few days later I bump into the dad again in the elevator. I was pretty standoffish and he was just talking about how great my apartment is and how much of a generous guy he is for giving us such a low rate. Then he asked if I could babysit his kids as he and his wife and his eldest son would be at a dinner. I said no at first but he counteroffered saying he’d pay 150 AN HOUR and being the greedy idiot that I am I agreed, this is where I fucked up.
When I get to his place I was speechless. His apartment wrapped around the entire floor of the building. It was the nicest apartment I will ever see that’s for sure. About an hour in everything was normal. I was playing some fighting game with his kids when we suddenly heard the front door slam. I told them to stay there as I peeked to see what was going on and I see the dad falling all over the place, clearly drunk asl. He started walking toward me and at the last minute fell face first onto his couch. I must’ve popped a blood vessel trying to hold in my laughter. I asked if he was okay and walked over to assist him. He then turned around, looked at me and said “my wife will let us, please”. When I tried asking what his wife walked up to me, thanked me, paid me, and told me to come back another time.
I just kinda went back to my apartment in shock wondering wtf just happened, and I definitely wasn’t going back. I told my roommate and she told me that she also bumped into the dad and he told her “my wife is cool just so you know” with no explanation and just left. At this point we knew that we sure as hell were not renewing our lease.
We didn’t see our landlords until our final month. We kinda joked to our friends about how our landlords were creepy cucks. The next time I see them was actually with my boyfriend, who was well aware of what they were trying to do. It was an intensely awkward elevator ride as when they saw us in there they just went quiet and smiled and nodded at us repeatedly. As we step out the elevator the dad shouts hey to us and winks at me as the doors closed. After that I asked my bf to stay with us for the remainder of our lease cause at this point my roommate and I were freaked the fuck out.
Our final and creepiest encounter was a few days before moving out. My roommate walked out the apartment and both the landlords were sitting in front of the elevators, waiting for us. She said they started sobbing when they saw her and then begged us to stay. They apparently apologized for making us uncomfortable and said they thought we were the “pretty young girls they were waiting for”. She didn’t say a word to them and got on the elevator and called me to warn me they were outside and then they started to knock. My bf answered and said when the guy saw him he asked if I was here. Of course my bf said no but they tried walking in anyway. I walk out my room saying I’ll call the police if they don’t leave and they beg me to not and run out the apartment.
A few days ago, we get a text from a random number saying we could live there 6 months free if we just gave them a few nights. Of course, blocked and deleted.
The whole thing was such an uncomfortable experience living there all those months, especially knowing they had keys to our apartment. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14ioujm/my_creepy_ass_landlords/ | LetsNotMeet | d0nkey_khan |
true | Creepy woman followed me around laughing at Waterpark | This happened back when I was 11 or 12 years old. It was the beggining of summer and I begged my mum to go to the waterpark in the next town. She couldnt drive so she arranged for her friend to drop me off and pick me back up after. I was a decent swimmer and had been alone a couple times before. My mum had given me the money for the admission and a little extra to get a drink and snack from the vending machines.
I arrived and got changed, putting my bag in a locker and strapping the key around my ankle. I couldnt wait to get on the slides. There werent too many people there as it was early evening, around 6pm, so I got on all the slides relatively quickly. My favourite was the river rapid slide. On this slide you would slide down small sections of slide, splashing into small pools in between. You were supposed to use a rubber ring but most kids, and some adults, didnt bother. No one ever worked on the slides anyway so it was a bit of a free for all.
I went down the river rapid slide for the 4th or 5th time and splashed into the first pool. I mucked around for a bit here before wading towards the next section of slide. I was completely alone on the slide, or so I thought. The next pool after this section of slide was a dark, enclosed section. I liked to sit in there sometimes and relax before finishing the ride. However, this time, someone was already in there. A larger woman in her 30s or 40s lay on her stomach with her feet over the last section of slide. Her head peeking above the water. She was cackling loudly. A hysterical, gutteral laugh. She looked me bolt in the eyes and pushed herself down the last section of slide, still laughing as it echoed off the slide walls. I was thouroughly freaked out, and waited 5 minutes before sliding down so I didnt encounter her at the bottom.
Presuming it was a random freaky coincidence, I went straight back on the slide. Again, no one else was around. I rode the first section normally before apprehensively sliding the 2nd section into the dark cave pool. And I heard it again. That creepy, genuine, hysterical laughter. There she was. The same woman from before. Grinning and laughing while staring straight at me. She again flushed herself down the slide, leaving me alone. I decided I wasnt going to ride the river rapid slide again that visit. She petrified me.
I decided to go on the black hole next. It was a one person slide. You are supposed to wait for the light to go green before sliding, so I figured I would be ok. I say *supposed*. I flung myself into the black abyss of the tube ride. However, I heard a 2nd thud behind me. I turned around and in the darkness my worst fears were concerned. I saw the shadowy figure of an overweight middle aged woman following me down the slide. And once again, she started laughing loudly and hard. The kind of laugh where you can barely pause for breath. As if you have seen the funniest show or meme you could imagine. I have never been more terrified in my life. I panicked, slamming my hands down on the floor of the slide and pushing in an attempt to make myself go faster. It worked a little, but she was never far behind. Cackling away.
When I reached the bottom I threw myself out of the landing strip area, grazing my knee. I ran to the changing rooms, not looking back. I locked myself in a stall and removed the key from my ankle before running out to grab my stuff and went straight back in. I got changed and bolted from the building and called my mum. She sent her friend to pick me up right away.
So, creepy laughing waterpark lady, lets not meet again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14itdzk/creepy_woman_followed_me_around_laughing_at/ | LetsNotMeet | depressedandimmature |
true | Followed while bike broke | So I (back then 16F) was at an outdoor featival close to home. Decided to go there by bike. The festival finished, I grabbed my bike and noticed I had a flat tire. It was raining super hard and it was 11.30pm so the sky was black already. I was about to walk home and a friend said he'd walk with me. I said "nah, you still got a long travel ahead of you, I'll be fine on my own" (he lived out of town). He insisted on going with me anyway because he wanted to make sure I got home safe.
So we started walking. About 10 minutes into the walk, on an abandoned road, a car drove by with 3 or 4 guys (I think 25-30 y/o each) and slowed down, yelling how sexy I looked, and some more inappropriate things, and if I wanted to get in the car. We kept on walking, not responding at all. One guy in the car whispers to the rest "alright let's go, this girl isn't alone" and they drove away.
No clue what would have happened if I was alone, but I was happy my friend was with me that night. My heart was racing. I'm currently 28 and I still remember and I've not told many people this tbh. English isn't my main language btw, so sorry.
Guys in the car, let's not meet. :) | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14hzwuh/followed_while_bike_broke/ | LetsNotMeet | Silversn0w_ |
true | The Zig Zag | I got inspired to write this after reading someone else's story about zig zag walking. This happened over 10 years ago.
I used to go out drinking with friend's Fridays and Saturdays at metal/goth bars. I think that year a goth chick had been assaulted left for dead and was identified thanks to her tattoos. As a result we were all on extra high alert.
When bars closed I would never be alone, sometimes I waited with a friend at the local 24/7 coffee shop until we sobered and the subway system would start working again at 5:30 am.
This time tho my friend Claire who was my safety company really wanted to hang out with an acquaintance of ours, Rick. So I said fine, let's go to Ricks instead of the coffee shop and head out to the subway later.
Well the time was fast approaching and she showed no signs of wanting to leave. She clearly wanted to sleep with him and probably stay awhile. When 5 am came , I was tired of feeling awkward, and decided I would leave on my own.
"Where's the metro station?"
We had basic flip phones then, not really smart, no active GPS maps to refer to.
He gave me the general direction of where to find the station and I set out.
As I walk thru the empty and cold Montreal streets in quest of this station, I hear footsteps...
"Crap what now?"
I continue and tell myself "it's probably just another individual headed to the station... right?"
I dared not look behind me completely.
"Don't walk faster, keep a steady pace. If he senses fear and he is preying, it'll excite him"
I continue this for awhile, with no real idea of how long this cat and mouse game is gonna go on because I didn't know the area or where the station really was.
I decide to see if he was indeed trying to mess with me. So I zig zaged. Cross to one side of the street here and there and listen to see if he followed my pattern.
He did. Everytime.
I couldn't tell if this guy wanted to attack me, troll me or was just playing a sick game to establish dominance.
So I kept at it, scared but also not about to give him the satisfaction by panicking.
I finally see the station...
A tiny bit before the station, a wind blew my scarf a bit ahead if me. "Oh shit! Not now!" . I sweep picked it up, not stopping. Hoping he wouldn't take this moment to do something.
Finally I had reached a zone with other people and considered myself safe. I saw people on both platforms but will never truly know who it was.
Follower in the cold winter streets of Montreal near what I think was Métro Papineau...let's not meet again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14i86ru/the_zig_zag/ | LetsNotMeet | Dark_0rchid |
true | I almost got abducted and a strange noise saved my life | This happend a few years ago around mid November. My mother and I love being outside and going for walks, this night in particular was freezing but we decided we wanted to go out for a quick walk.
As we walked back home we went down this one street that we use all the time, it's a neighborhood street that leads to the main street then back into our neighborhood. We get halfway down the street when I hear a dog bark over the music on my phone. I turn it off and turn to look for the dog because I love dogs and I wasn't aware there was a big dog on the street.
*Context, I know quite a few people on this street, and I know which houses have dogs. Mos of the ppl on the block have small dogs or cats. This came from a house that didn't have a dog let alone a big dog*
I spun around and saw a big dark mass just feet from me, if he stepped two more feet he would have been able to grab me.
I immediately felt weird and started speedwalking back to my mom, who at that point didn't realize I stopped. I turned off my phone and whispered to her that I thought we were being followed. She turned around and grabbed my arm and told me there was 2 men right behind us. We started walking in a zig-zag pattern and sure enough they followed our every step.
Once they caught on that we knew one of the dudes started to make small chit chat with us. "Awfully late for yall to be walking huh?", I swear his voice sounded like the definition of the sirens voices, luring sailors to their doom. He continued asking questions to us, my mom kept walking and replying with quick replies. From the sound of his voice I knew we were in danger so I went to dial 911, instead my mom told me to call my dad as he would be able to get to us quicker because we were almost home.
We got to the busy street and looked behind us to see them speed-walking to us. We decided to risk and and ran into the middle of the street as cars passed on either side of us, we ran across again and met my dad on that side. We looked across the street and both men were gone. We got into the car and searched the streets but these guys disappeared into what seemed like this air.
I asked my mom if we would have been kidnapped if I hadn't heard the dog, she asked me what dog. I asked her how she didn't hear this massive dog bark, especially with how good her hearing is. I still have no clue what it was I heard but I do know it most likely saved my life. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14hb7yq/i_almost_got_abducted_and_a_strange_noise_saved/ | LetsNotMeet | kayla_kloud |
true | Bullies Turned Creepy Weird Sexual Stalkers | I've been Watching Horror Stories about Stalkers from Channels like Miss Reaper on YouTube and I Decided to Share my Own Experience.
This all Started back when I Was in 3rd Grade which was 2014-2015 and I Met this Group of Guys who I'm just gonna refer to as The Sport Guys, I Don't Remember how it started but I Remember One Day in School where We had to bring some Chip Bags and I Remember Some of them did this "Pee Thing" and tried Shoving it up to Me before They destroyed my Bag, this wasn't the only time Something similar Happened, A Few Times Later (Maybe even Before that), They would even Compliment my Butt, and They've Compliment Some of my Body Parts throughout the Years from 2016-Now.
Fast Forward to High School, Back in My Sophomore Year, 2 Sport Guys would often make fun of selfies I Posted on Instagram, but also would Touch My Leg several times and Make a Kissing Face like "😘", It got to the Point where I Had to report them for Bullying because I Didn't know much about Sexual Harassment at the Time but Yeah, I Know They still think of Me all the time.
This Past Year, earlier January, 1 Sport Guy talked to Me like all the time, and Not One Day would He not talk to Me, This even went when We were taking Notes, and even said "I Was Racist" because I Didn't give him a Fist Pump, He would even shout my Last Name whenever He saw Me Outside from His Car.
later that Month, One Sport Guy from Middle School started to remember Me and said "oh, How I Missed ya", Proving that The Sport Guys are so Mentally Delusional and are so Obsessed with Me, it's kinda Creepy actually, and there was 1 Day where I Stood up to him and He showed me his Private Area, Later This Same Sport Guy and some of his Friends would even try to Follow Me when I Headed to my 4th Hour at times, and Yes I Reported them and it stopped the Issue.
Fast Forward to Last Week of School, One Sport Guy who asked Me "What I Got on the Exam" but I ignored Him because of How Bad That Guy was, and He ended up touching my Neck a few times, and Some People saw.
It was that same week that My Mom found out about "Someone showing me his Private Area" and The Reason Why I Didn't tell her is because She was going through so much with My Dad and I Didn't want her to get more Upset that Her Son was getting Stalked & Sexual Harassed.
Needless to say, I'm Not looking forward to My Senior Year of High School especially with Guys like this around.
​ | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14hz4u7/bullies_turned_creepy_weird_sexual_stalkers/ | LetsNotMeet | AlexanderBlotsky |
true | Man hid from the police with me | I used to live in a awful neighborhood there was constantly issues. I lived with my partner and sister in law/brother in law and their new born baby. They had a strict no smoking in the house rule and no guests beyond the kitchen because of the small baby. The lay out of the house is important, it was a townhouse on the corner and our driveway was essentially in the back yard and our backyard was just a side yard with a chain link fence. Directly in front of my car was the neighbors backyards.
This means I would sit in my driveway and smoke with my friends. Some times we would hot box and sometimes we would crack the windows. My brother in law was parked right beside me and my best friend( for the sake of the story we’ll call her C) parked right behind me. This meant my car was totally blocked in the driveway. My best friend C and I were getting our Smokey smoke on when from up the street we heard fighting. This was nothing short of unusual for night time in this neighborhood.
The next we heard was “he stabbed him he stabbed him” followed by more screams, sobs, and inaudible yelling. This also wasn’t totally out of the norm at least once a week someone was getting beat up, stabbed, or shot up. A short while later about 9 police cars showed up and many people at that house scattered. We had the car pluming with smoke and didn’t want to the police to think this house was another “drug house” so we stayed put. We thought this was the safest. Soon a man emerged crouched against the house peaking around the corner towards the police
C and I froze cold my car was off the man didn’t see us yet, I contemplated turning it on but with no where to go that just seemed pointless. Soon the man turned his head and saw us he got on the ground and crawled from the house to in between my brother in law and I’s car just a mere foot and a half between him and C. He leaned against my brother in laws car and pulled up his hoodies revealing both a gun and the handle of a knife. Then he pierced his finger to his lips as if to go “shhhhh” and we stayed put as he continued to maneuver around the cars, the house and the trash cans watching and listening to the police 3 houses down and and across the street.
Eventually the man disappeared into the shadows of the the backyard of the people on the other side.
It took me 15 minutes to turn my car on and instantly turned my brights on eliminating the next 3 back yards. We stayed in the car another 20 minutes before booking it in the house and waking up my brother in law. Who walked C back to her car with a baseball bat in hand and searched the rest of the yard.
To that man I hope we never meet again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14hiau4/man_hid_from_the_police_with_me/ | LetsNotMeet | Dogmomma-21 |
true | I think I could have been kidnapped/mugged some weeks ago | So for context, I (17M) go for a walk at night for 1 or 2 hours some days because I have sleep problems, it helps me relax a little bit and I end up tired so it's easier to sleep. I live in a small/medium size city, I always do the same route because I don't know the city that much. Most days I go out at 21:00 so it doesn't get very late when I come home, but this day I went out at 00:00. So I go as usual, plug in my earphones, put some music and start walking. I noticed that the streets were empty, nobody walking, only a couple of cars passing by once in a while, most stores were closed. At one point I decided to stop the music, and all I could hear was some crickets and the sound of my boots hitting the ground every step I took.
After some time I was already tired and thought that I should go back home, it was like 2 am, so I walked to the other side of the street and made the same route but in the other direction. In my way back I finally saw a couple walking in front of me, I forgot to mention that I look a little bit shady, long hair, all black, bitch resting face... so I decided to wait a few seconds just in case they thought I was following them or something.
I start walking again and suddenly I noticed a car parked in the middle lf the road with one door open. As I walk past the car, a guy appears from a corner walking pretty fast to me. Like I said, I have long hair and it covers most of my face unless you see me from the front, so sometimes people think I'm a girl, no problem with this, I think this is what saved me this day. As soon as I notice this guy coming to me, I hear him yell something in another language, he looked pretty fucked up, probably a drug addict or drunk. My heart just stopped beating for a moment and I thought he was going to assault me or something, my legs just stopped working for a second and I got paralyzed with fear. Suddenly my heart was pumping like it was going to explode, I kept walking and ignored this guy completely. When he noticed I was a guy he walked into the car that was parked in the road and went the other way. I don't why I didn't run. I kept looking back all the way home. After a while I saw the couple from before in front of me and explained to them the situation, I asked them if I could walk near them just to feel safe, I guess they noticed my expression of fear so they accepted. When I thought of a situation like this before it happened I thought that I would run and be able to escape or that I would try to fight back or something, but trust me, nobody is prepared for it. This happened some time ago, I tried to describe all I could remember, sorry if there's any grammatic mistake, my english is a little bit rusty. Needless to say I don't go for walks at night anymore :) | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14hdmzb/i_think_i_could_have_been_kidnappedmugged_some/ | LetsNotMeet | isra3819 |
true | He was testing me! |
This is a story that happened many years ago, when I (45, f) was around 8 or 9.
My parents and I lived in a very beautiful, big old house, that used to be a hotel in the 19. century. The house had 4 extra apartments, and in one of them lived this middle-aged guy, who we'll call F.
The house was placed on a very small, but long road, that went between fields, and a small forest, all of it going downhill, before it ended right by the beach. There was maybe 15 houses, and only one other kid my age, so I would sometimes visit with the adults in the area.
There was a few incidents with F. the guy that rented one of the apartments.
The first one happened when my friend and I were rollerskating and we met F. who was out on his bicycle. We asked him if he would tow us, because we were tired, and he let us hold on to his bike. At first we thought that he was great, because not all adults would have been okay with that idea.
But the ride didn't go very well.
Once we held on to the bike, he started going faster and faster. And I mean really fast. It was summertime, and we only had on shorts or skirts, and back then we didn't have a lot of protective gear, so we absolutely didn't want to fall down.
We started out by politely asking him to go slower, but he didn't listen at all. Then we started getting near a really big hill, where gravity would always make you go way too fast, so there we would always zigzag our way down, to make it down safely.
At this point we were screaming at him to stop, but he did the opposite, and was standing up on the bike, so he could go even faster, and then he told us to let go of the bicycle if we didn't like it. But there was no way we could have done that without falling, and he knew it!
Even if he didn't know, he could clearly hear the fear in our voices. But he didn't stop before we were a good bit past that hill, and when we confronted him afterwards, he just said he only did what we wanted him to do, and that it was our own fault.
The second incident is the real creepy encounter, that I had with this guy, but at the time I just thought it was a bit weird. My mother on the other hand got really mad, and as an adult I now understand why.
I had met F. in the driveway and he invited me in to get a cup of tea. I remember sitting on his couch and not liking the tea, because it had no sugar, and when I asked for some he refused to give me any. Maybe he said he didn't have any, but anyway I didn't like the tea, and he kind of forced me to drink it anyway. Saying how I was the one who wanted it, and now he went through the trouble of making it, and so on. He got kind of mad, so I did what he told me to do, because he was an adult, and I was only a child.
That evening I told my mom, and she right away took the phone and called him, and then she yelled at him for endangering us girls when we were rollerskating, and got even more angry when she told him to never ever invite me to his apartment, and especially to never force her little girl to do anything(!) whatsoever again!
This could have been the end of the story, but actually I met another guy about 10 years later, and he told me that F. had informed him that I was the kind of girl, that just needed to be cornered and pressured a bit and then I would put out.. Yikes.. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14h56q9/he_was_testing_me/ | LetsNotMeet | Daletha |
true | A man tried to get in my car | This happened about 10 years ago in an area between Seattle & Tacoma, WA.
My friend, we'll call him R, and I used to regularly go to Tacoma to sing karaoke at a bar there. To be honest, I don't think I've ever even seen the city of Tacoma during the day.
Anyways, so it's about 1 or 2 in the morning and we're headed back to Seattle and we have to stop for gas. He pulls over at this station and I'm buzzed and feeling good so this creepy station doesn't even register with me.
As I'm sitting, messing with the radio, suddenly my door swings open. I only saw a flash of him because it all was blindingly quick, but he was kinda medium height, dark skinned (like too much tanning), had a blank stare and tattered clothing.
I remember he had on a black jacket too, like leather or something, but it was torn and wholly. So, here I am trying to pull the door closed and I'm realizing this man is very strong. He almost won the tug-of-war with me trying to slam the door closed. If my adrenaline hadn't kicked in, I don't know...
I do finally manage to get it closed after maybe was only a few seconds and immediately start looking around for my friend, panicked and confused.
R has already been yelling at the guy to "get the f away from my car!" Surprisingly, the man listens! R isn't the most intimidating looking guy or anything, but maybe the guy didn't want to cause a scene. I don't recall there being anyone else outside the station with us that night, but R was being very loud and forceful.
So, I'm watching the man walk away and he's not looking back at us or making a sound that I can hear which is what made this entire thing *more* unusual.
R gets back in the car and he's unusually calm, but like deadpan. Like, when you see something terrible, but you're too scared to move. I look to see where he's looking and he's looking at the creepy guy who is now facing us, with that same emotionless stare, just watching us leave the pump and back towards the street. My eyes are on him the entire time too.
We book it out of there and that was the end of that. To this day I don't stop at gas stations at night at all if I can help it unless another car is there or it's on a busy street. To the guy who tried to get in my friend's car that night, I hope you turned your life of crime around, but still let's not meet again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/14h1n56/a_man_tried_to_get_in_my_car/ | LetsNotMeet | Dear_Meteor |
false | My friend group went camping, only I made it out. | The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie, almost ethereal glow upon the dense woods. In the company of my dearest friends – Meg, Osmond, Alexa – and Osmond's loyal companion, Toby, we huddled around a campfire. The flames danced with exuberance, casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to defy the laws of nature. Laughter filled the night as we savored the simple joys of roasting marshmallows and sharing humorous anecdotes, yet beneath this veneer of normality, an unsettling unease clung to the air.
As darkness gradually encircled our camp, an otherworldly, spine-tingling howl pierced the tranquility of the night. It sent shivers down our spines, but it wasn't the call of a wolf, as we initially assumed; it was Toby. Our beloved canine companion was howling and crying, his eyes wide with a terror we had never witnessed before. Even Osmond, the embodiment of stoicism, paled at the sight. "Something's wrong," he whispered. His unease was justified – Toby had never cowered in fear.
As the night deepened, we eventually retreated to our tents. Well past midnight, I heard a faint, distant howl, echoing the earlier one. Sensing that something was amiss, I emerged from my tent to find my friends gathered outside their own, their faces etched with worry.
Just as I was about to inquire about the eerie noise, Osmond, his expression laced with concern, informed us that Toby was nowhere to be found in his tent. A growing sense of trepidation enveloped us as we scoured the camp, calling out Toby's name. It was then that we heard it again, the haunting, mournful howl, louder and more disconcerting than before.
In an instant, panic gripped our group. We instinctively turned toward the source of the noise, confirming that it was indeed Toby. Shadows converged at the periphery of the firelight, as though the forest itself harbored a sinister secret.
After a few moments of heated discussion, Alexa, the bravest among us, declared: "We have to find Toby. We can't just stay here." with a sense of urgency.
Meg, the voice of reason, tried to maintain a veneer of reassurance. "Stay calm, everyone. We'll split into two groups and try to find him."
Despite our attempts to rationalize the situation, an eerie sense of foreboding weighed heavy in the air. Every rustling leaf, every distant sound, and every whisper of the wind carried an ominous message from the forest. Nevertheless, our determination to find Toby fueled our actions, driven by the hope that he was merely lost and frightened.
As our two groups ventured deeper into the dark forest, the atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive. An ominous mist rolled in, enshrouding us in a bone-chilling fog that obscured our surroundings. My group, consisting of Meg and me, stood watch at the edge of the forest, near the campsite, while Osmond and Alexa ventured deeper into the woods in search of Toby.
Time blurred into a nightmarish collage of fear. We called out for Toby, our flashlights piercing the inky blackness. Shadows danced at the edge of our vision, eluding our attempts to confront them. The forest thickened, its gnarled branches resembling skeletal fingers reaching out into the night. I could barely see beyond the pale beam of my flashlight, and an eerie sensation of being watched settled over me.
After some time, we realized that we had not heard from Osmond and Alexa in a while. Fear gnawed at our hearts, and we decided to make our way deeper into the woods, hoping to reunite with them.
Eventually, the forest became eerily silent, to the point where I could hear the beating of my own heart. It was an unsettling feeling, akin to the sensation of being watched, as though unseen eyes observed our every move.
I whispered to Meg that I hadn't heard any sounds other than our footsteps for a while, but she remained silent and continued walking. Turning around, I was struck by the realization that she was no longer beside me, yet I could distinctly hear footsteps directly behind me.
Then, in an instant, a malevolent figure materialized. It was a shadowy, nebulous form, with eyes – if one could call them that – gleaming with malevolence. A frigid shiver of terror coursed through me as it loomed in the darkness, whispering incomprehensible words, a language not meant for human ears.
Overwhelmed by fear, I sprinted through the forest, my gaze fixed on the faint glimmer of moonlight in the distance. The forest appeared to warp and shift around me as if it were a living entity. I could feel the presence of the malevolent figure pursuing me, taunting me with unfathomable words, an unrelenting force of darkness.
I burst back into the clearing where we had set up camp, my heart pounding and my breath ragged. However, the camp was eerily empty, the fire long extinguished. My friends were gone, and I was left standing alone, surrounded by the oppressive darkness of the forest. Gasping for breath, I heard the chilling laughter of unseen entities, while the forest itself whispered malevolent secrets.
In a state of panic and shock, I remained in the abandoned camp, my thoughts in disarray. The darkness closed in from all sides, and the sinister whispers of the forest continued to echo. A profound sense of isolation and despair enveloped me.
I waited for what felt like hours, the sun casting long shadows as it began to rise. Yet my friends remained absent. It became apparent that I needed to seek help, and the nearest town was my only lifeline.
I gathered my remaining belongings and retraced my steps through the darkened woods. Eerie sounds echoed through the forest during my departure, its oppressive ambiance clinging to me like a suffocating shroud. I couldn't shake the feeling that something malevolent watched from the shadows, that the forest itself was the personification of evil. With each step, the echoes of shrieks and groans grew fainter, but the chilling presence of the unknown endured.
Finally, I emerged from the oppressive forest into the outskirts of the town. My appearance was disheveled, my face etched with exhaustion, and my heart heavy with the weight of the unknown. I knew that I had to report my friends and Toby as missing, enlisting the help of the townspeople and local authorities in unraveling the sinister secrets of the woods.
As I entered the town, the atmosphere shifted palpably. The town's residents regarded me with cautious, wary eyes as if they could sense the darkness that clung to me from the forest. I made my way to the local authorities, my voice trembling as I recounted the harrowing events of that night, the inexplicable disappearances of my friends, and the ominous entity that had pursued me.
The police organized search parties and ventured into the sinister woods. Even they could perceive the unease that pervaded the forest, their expressions betraying the fear that lingered in the air. However, despite their determined efforts, they found very little trace of our group.
Days turned into weeks, and the mystery deepened. The police, baffled by my account of the events, could not provide a rational explanation for the disappearances. In the town, whispers began to circulate, suggesting that the forest was cursed.
The unease that had taken root within me never truly dissipated, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we had awakened something sinister within the woods.
Despite the lack of concrete evidence, I embarked on my own investigation, delving into old maps, uncovering local legends, and consulting experts in the realm of paranormal phenomena. Yet, the more I delved into the history of the forest, the more elusive the answers became. The town's elders, shrouded in a silence born of fear, refused to divulge the forest's secrets.
Years passed, but the memories of that fateful night continue to haunt me. The disappearance of Meg, Osmond, Alexa, and Toby remains an unsolved mystery, an enigma that defies explanation. The forest had claimed them, leaving me with a lingering sense of dread that would never truly dissipate. Despite the police's diligent efforts, the cursed woods safeguarded their secrets, and the dark presence within would forever torment my dreams.
[Yet even now, I still find myself standing on the edge of the forest, and I swear I see my friends in the distance, waving me over, beckoning me to reenter the forest and for us to be reunited once again.](https://www.reddit.com/user/_Not_Not_Sag) | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bmini/my_friend_group_went_camping_only_i_made_it_out/ | nosleep | _Not_Not_Sag |
false | Be Careful About Which Orders You Take on Delivery Apps (Part 4) | Part 1: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1776lep/be\_careful\_about\_the\_orders\_you\_deliver\_on/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1776lep/be_careful_about_the_orders_you_deliver_on/)Part 3: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17b5hmz/be\_careful\_about\_which\_orders\_you\_take\_on/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17b5hmz/be_careful_about_which_orders_you_take_on/)
I woke up the next day around noon. I don’t remember when I fell asleep.
I called my dad.
“Hello?”
“Dad... hey, how uh... how are you doing?”
“How am I doing? Robert, you sound awful, are you sick?”
“No, I... listen, have you seen anything weird lately? Maybe anyone... around the house?”
“Huh? What do you mean, Robbie?”
My phone vibrated, made me jolt like I had been tasered, “Shh...” a text from “Nick”.
“Are you alright, Robbie?”
My eyes watered, “I’m just... checking up on you, that’s all. Please, just... be careful.”
“Don’t worry Robert, you’re old man isn’t going down any time soon...”
“I.... I love you dad.”
“I love you too, Robbie.”
“Bye.”
I fell back on my bed. My phone vibrated twice.
*“Keep up the good work, and papa will be alright. We might even send him a gift or two if you do well.”*
*“Your real work begins now. Get up and at ‘em!!! 👍 I believe in you Robert!”*I opened the app, and my whole body reeled with vertigo as I saw what was on the screen.
A dozen orders. All of them, every one of them, had at least one item blanked out or with a question mark like the order to Nick. They weren’t just orders from the gas station, they were from... everywhere. Big restaurant chains, takeout places, grocery stores... and the spots I had to deliver to were all over the city.
A rundown apartment in the slums. What looked like an abandoned warehouse in the industrial centre. A highend apartment. A regular old family home. A trailer park. Mansions.
They were all over the whole damn city.
I didn’t look in any more packages. Hell only knows what manner of gruesome cargo I was driving around everywhere.
Needless to say, I was horrified, worried sick for dad and fearful of displeasing “Nick”.I delivered everything that appeared, and everyday it would cap off with the same old delivery to Nick’s house.
Nick probably wasn’t his real name. There might not even be a “Nick” but rather multiple people contacting me, or... Maybe something that isn’t human.
Whatever was happening, I eventually started to not think about it. I thought of nothing other than survival and my father’s survival.
The first night on my new routine, the door opened. Matt was there, a big smile on his face, but he spoke without any inflection, completely monotone, “Right on Robbie. I thought you wouldn’t come man.” His eyes were glassy. There were stains on his shirt that didn’t look like sweat.
I thought of jumping on him and choking him to death for an instant. But he was obviously only an errand boy, some sort of patsy. Whatever was going on, he obviously wasn’t in that deep. Killing him would solve nothing. Especially not considering the police were involved in some way, whether through bribery or I don’t know what. Hell, why didn’t they just get the damn compromised cops to do everything? Why the fuck did it have to be me?
The girl was on the floor of the entrance where she had been last time I saw her, dried blood around her mouth, her eyes still vacant. She was hooked up to an IV drip that was haphazardly placed tipping against the wall. Though she didn’t see me, she laughed when Matt opened the door a bit more to reach his hand out. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the cloaked figure wasn’t there, but there was another gathering, obscured in the shadows of the hallway. I could barely make out pale faces staring at me from within the darkness, their eyes wide.
I made a lot of money that day. Each order gave me at least 80$. The main order was reduced to 250$.
A lot of blood money.
If I didn’t do it, then dad would...
So I had to!
Guilt, paranoia, horror and despair weighed heavy on me. Every night I drowned myself in drink and drugs.
Every day, at noon, my phone would vibrate, *“Up and at ‘em, Robbie”*
I was nothing but an empty husk.
I’d call my dad whenever I woke up, just to check on him, dread filling me with every ring, expecting him to not pick up.
That went on for eight days. Eight days and nights that were a sluggish, terrible blur.
The only allure that money held for me anymore was a means to bury everything through my vices. Maybe that’s what it always was.
On the evening of the eighth day, as I came to “Nick”’s house, I tripped, fell onto the ajar door... and I tumbled inside.
I scrambled to my feet and spun around every which way in a blind panic. As I saw before, the entrance was different from what little of the house I was able to gleam from the hallway. Aside from the filthy welcome mat, the entrance was surprisingly clean, looked like the lobby of a hospital or something.
Aside from the IV stand that was still there, tipped over (though without the girl attached to it that time), the room was empty. I didn’t hear anybody, but I could see flashing multicoloured lights coming from the right of the hallway ahead. A light was beaming down from the wooden stairs in the hall.There was a slightly ajar door to my left.
I felt like I was stuck in a trench during an airstrike. The faces I had seen on the medallions flashed in my mind, the fingertips, the bag of blood...
I was only frozen in panic for a second before I managed to get my body moving the hell out again, when I saw the delivery near my foot. I brought my hands up to my temples and groaned.
A face stared neutrally up at me from the ruined remains of the package. An old lady I had seen ordering at a takeout place when I had picked up a delivery the day before.
Around the medallion was what was presumably her shaved off hair and... an eye.
I almost screamed, but choked it back when the sound of something ruffling drifted from behind me, from the other side of the door, a sound like tarp shifting...
The door creaked, the tarp ruffled, started to fall, I heard a wailing unlike anything I had ever heard in my life, muffled, then clear as the tarp fell from its head, revealed what lay beneath, it turned its mangled face down at me, my whole body was wracked with an indescribable sensation as my ears pounded like someone had taken a power-drill to them...
The next thing I remember, I was roaring into my driveway, tackled my front door open, locked it, started boarding up the windows. What happened between the door opening and then was just a faded blank. It made my head hurt to think about it.
Curled up under my bed, I tried calling my dad. No answer. It was 2am. I tried until 5am, when I must have drifted off, overwhelmed by everything.
Vague remnants of what I saw underneath the tarp haunted my dreams, that gurgling, twisted, wailing, mangled nightmare made flesh...
[Final Part](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17cpxmr/be_careful_about_which_orders_you_take_on/) | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bybo2/be_careful_about_which_orders_you_take_on/ | nosleep | William77White |
false | Someone was in my room when i was asleep. | Something woke me up. I still can’t remember if it was a noise that stirred me, or my brain’s unconscious recognition of a threat that willed me awake, but something woke me up.
I opened my eyes to the dim blue light of early morning starting to break through slats in my window shades. I realized with great relief it was still early and turned over in bed to check the time on the clock to calculate how much longer I’d get to sleep.
That’s when I saw it – the chair. The chair from my desk had somehow been moved across my room and was positioned at my bedside. It was facing me.
I turned my attention to my bedroom door to find it was still locked. Despite living alone I always sleep with my door locked; a consequence of spending years living with shitty roommates. Strange.
I rubbed my eyes, took a few gulps from the glass of water I kept on my nightstand and rose from bed, too curious now to return to sleep.
I moved to return the chair back across the room to its usual post, when I noticed a long grey hair stuck in the felt padding of the chair’s backrest.
Again, strange. The hair was longer than mine had ever been and I’m definitely not turning grey.
I spun the chair around and sat down in it to ponder the situation. Instantly, the hair on the back of my neck stood at attention.
The chair was warm. Someone had been sitting here while I slept. For how long? I wasn’t sure, but I was sure enough that they had stood up just before I had woken up. It was probably them that had woken me up in the first place. For all I know, they could still be in the room with me.
My imagination cranked into overdrive and suddenly I was drowning in a wave of terror that I hadn’t felt since I was a child. My breathing became shallow and my eyes darted back and forth across my room looking for the most obvious hiding places.
There were only two hiding spaces that made sense, inside my closet and under my bed.
I pulled my feet up close to my chest suddenly hyper aware of how close they were to my bed skirt and how easily a grey-haired boogeyman would be able to reach out and touch me.
I stood from the chair and put my back against my locked bedroom door and looked around for a weapon. The best I could come up with was a letter opener from my desk. I retrieved it and returned to my post against the bedroom door turning on the bedroom lights in the process.
I breathed deep, trying to summon my courage, then quickly bent down and lifted the bed skirt as I screamed a battle cry.
Nothing.
I cast a glance over to the closet and felt the acid rise in my stomach. It was the only hiding place left. I slowly made my way across the room, my heartbeat racing faster with each step. The letter opener was held in front of me and I grasped it with both hands to keep from shaking.
Eventually, I reached the door and closed my hand around the knob. I raised the letter opener above my head in preparation to attack whatever I would find on the other side of the door. I steeled myself and quickly ripped the door open.
Nothing, again.
I relaxed, but not fully. I performed a full sweep of my house, replacing the letter opener with a knife when I reached the kitchen.
Nothing.
Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I had sleepwalked and moved the chair myself? Maybe I had brought the grey hair in myself? It could have easily gotten stuck to my back on the crowded bus or train. But why was the chair still warm and what was it that caused me to wake so suddenly?
I couldn’t let it bother me, so I moved on. I spent my Saturday running errands cleaning the house and vacuuming my bedroom.
The next morning, again, I woke up suddenly, pulled from sleep by something I couldn’t quite put a finger on.
Once more the chair had moved. It stood in the same place I found it the morning before – at my bedside, facing me.
Immediately I start scanning the room for clues as to what might be happening when I notice something off with my bed itself.
I sleep in a king-sized bed. It’s huge. Way too big for a single, average-sized woman like myself, but its one of the few luxuries I allow myself. The bed is so massive, I only ever occupy a small corner of it. I don’t even pull the covers back on that side.
What I noticed was the covers on the side of the bed I don’t sleep on had been pulled back, and not only that, but they were ruffled and slightly dirty with small brown specks dotting my white sheets here and there. I reached my hand over and tried to wipe the brown specks away with no luck. Whatever they were now stained my sheets and pillow case.
While attempting to brush the brown specks away my hand encountered something else. Another long, grey hair.
My blood ran cold again as I shot a worried glance at my door – it was still locked. Was someone creeping in here at night? How?
I got up from bed and immediately noticed another clue.
I had vacuumed the night before and as a result someone had left clearly defined footprints in my carpet.
I could see the path I took from my bedroom door, to my dresser, then to my bed, but I could also see another set of footprints.
A larger set of tracks led from my closet door, to my desk where whoever it was picked up my desk chair. The tracks then led from the desk to where the chair was deposited at my bedside. The tracks then led around to the other side of my bed where it looked like whoever it was climbed in bed with me.
My heart sank and a feeling of complete helplessness came over me. I hoped I was overreacting. I hoped that I was hallucinating or sleepwalking or something. “Even if I was sleepwalking, these tracks are way too big” I thought briefly before I pushed the thought out of my mind.
The tracks then moved from my bed and led back to the closet.
I called the police.
They found nothing. The closet somehow was empty which made the police understandably angry with me. They lectured me about wasting police resources then told me to ‘stop watching so many scary movies’ and chalked the whole experience up to an overactive imagination.
I was terrified.
That night I couldn’t sleep. I laid in bed and stared at my closet, wincing as my imagination twisted the shadows into the shapes of strange men.
I didn’t sleep the entire night, so I was wide awake when I heard the closet unlatch and slowly swing open.
In the darkness I couldn’t make out the details, but the shape of a man slowly slid out from the inky-black recess of the closet and made his way quietly across the room.
Paralyzed with fear I momentarily lost the ability to breathe as I watched the figure creep over to my desk, pick up the chair and bring it to my bedside.
I heard the man sit down on the chair just feet away from me blocking the path between me and the door.
I had two options. Fight, in which case I would probably get overpowered fairly quickly or I could pretend to be asleep. I made it through the past two nights unscathed. I had no reason to think this would be any different.
I tried to steady my worried breathing as I listened to the man’s own rhythmic breathing where he was seated at my back. Time seemed to slow as I waited for the man to leave. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours. I must have laid there for an hour listening to the man’s deep rhythmic breaths. Eventually, he stood up and I snapped my eyes closed and listened as his footsteps circled to the other side of the bed.
My mattress shook as the man crawled into bed next to me. Now, with him just inches from my face, I could smell him. A rank odor surrounded him like an invisible cloud. It was a nauseating blend of body odor, unwashed clothes, and the acrid tang of stale alcohol. The aroma was a combination of sour, rancid, and musk. I had to concentrate hard to stop from gagging or cringing my face in rejection.
Then it got worse. The man turned towards me and I could feel his hot breath pouring across my face in waves. His rancid breath stung at my nose. I was thankful my hands were both under my pillow to prevent them from shaking.
Once more, I waited like this. Never daring to move as wave after wave of rotten breath washed over me, then he touched me. His leg brushed against mine under the covers. It took everything in me not to pull away from him, to leap out of bed screaming.
The man must have turned his head at that point because his breath no longer blew into my face. I braced for whatever might come next, then the bed started to lightly shake in measured, rhythmic vibrations accompanied by a soft slapping sound. The man was masturbating.
I was so revolted by this I took a risk – I rolled over in my ‘sleep’ to face the side of the bed with the empty chair and the door beyond it. The man was no longer blocking my exit, I could leap out of bed and try and make my escape. I’d have a head start, especially if the man had his pants near his ankles. The lock on my door would slow me down, I’d have to flip the lock perfectly on the first try or I’d lose my head start. Also, I thought, maybe the man wasn’t wearing pants at all, maybe he was naked. Maybe my head started wouldn’t be as large as I had hoped. I shuddered.
Moments passed and I tried to build up my courage to make an escape when I felt a gentle tug. As if sensing my intentions, man had laid his hand on my hip and grabbed a hold of both the ratty t-shirt I slept in as well as my pajama bottoms. Goosebumps rippled across my entire body. He had me trapped.
So, I waited. I had no other choice and eventually, he finished.
The moment stretched into infinity. I listened as the man’s breathing became regular again, his grip relaxed on my hip, but he still held on. The mattress shook again and all of a sudden, the man’s thick, noxious breath fille my nose, he was leaning over me.
“Your room is almost ready,” he said into my in my ear with a breathy whisper, “Tomorrow, I’ll bring you home.”
My mouth immediately went dry and I broke into a cold sweat. The mattress shifted again as the man stood up. Another moment passed and I heard my closet door open then shut again. I realized then the closing of the closet door was what had been waking me up the past few days.
I laid motionless for quite some time, too afraid to turn over in case the closet door opening and closing was just a ruse to get me to stir from my fake slumber. I quieted my own breathing to listen more intently to the room around me, straining to pick up the sounds of a man breathing, or tip toeing or shifting his weight under his feet. Eventually, I felt confident he was no longer in the room with me and I got out of bed.
I slowly crept to the closet door and put my ear to it. I heard nothing. I wanted to call the police again, but I knew somehow the man was gone and another visit from the law would just open me up to ridicule. I opened my closet door and found nothing but my own clothes.
Whatever was going on, I would have to figure out on my own.
I started by taking all of my clothes out of the closet and searching every square inch of it for fake panels or a false back. Maybe I had bought a house that was riddled with fake passageways and I never knew. Unfortunately, I wasn’t so lucky - my search turned up nothing more than an empty closet.
I had a thought – what if there was a secret passage and the mechanism was triggered by the opening and closing of the door?
I stood inside the cramped space of the small closet and closed the door, entombing myself inside. I ran my hands across the walls and baseboards of the small space, but could feel nothing but the smooth dry wall I had expected. I was about to give up and open the door when an arm reached out from the space behind me and grabbed onto my right wrist.
I started to scream until a second hand emerged from the darkness around me and covered my mouth. Another hand grabbed my other wrist. More hands closed their grips around my ankles. More grabbed onto my shoulders and clothes, restraining me. All of them ice-cold to the touch, their grips were vice-like. I was completely restrained.
I tried to bite the hand that had covered my mouth only for two more hands to emerge from above me somehow and hold my jaw closed.
I started to feel dizzy, how was any of this possible? There must have been two dozen arms in the closet with me. I strained my eyes to see in the small amount of light that filtered under the closet door only to see something that made no sense – the arms were sticking out from the dry wall of the closet and moving around through it like it was liquid.
Two more hands emerged from the walls around me like two long tentacles from deep within the ocean of dry wall. They gently wrapped themselves around my eyes, blinding me. Again, I tried to scream only to have the hands around my mouth and jaw clasp tighter.
Then all at once, they retracted back into the walls.
I immediately reached for the door handle when I stopped. The dim light seeping through the crack in the door was no longer the faint white light of the morning – it was red. The pungent odors of bleach and vinegar stun my nostrils as I took in a very rapid, worried breaths. It was like I had been transported from my closet to a closet in fucking hell.
I took a few more sharp, deep breaths to steady myself and cracked the door open – it creaked on its hinges and I winced, fearful to alert anyone that might be in the room I was entering. I poked my head out and looked around the room that was bathed in red light. It was a darkroom for developing photos. Small polaroid-like photos covered the walls and hung from strings that crisscrossed the room above my head.
I looked at the set of photos that hung from a wire directly above my head. They were 5 photos of the same woman.
The first of the set appeared to have been taken from cover, maybe through the crack in a closet door, only a small portion of the woman was visible, but she was clearly asleep in bed.
The second photo was also of her sleeping, this time the vantage point was from the foot of her bed. She wore different pajamas from the first photo in the set.
The third photo was a close-up of the sleeping woman’s face, she was still asleep but nothing else was visible in the picture.
My heart raced upon seeing the fourth photo. The woman was awake in bed, her hands out in front of her in a defensive posture, a look of pure terror was splashed across her face.
My heart stopped when I saw the final picture. The woman’s face was gone. It was replaced with a gory mass of brain, blood and hair. A Hammer lay in the blood-soaked bed next to her lifeless body.
My blood ran cold as I scanned the room. There must have been close to 100 pictures in there. I saw a picture of myself hanging from a cord above the chemical bath where the photos were developed.
My head started to spin and I felt I might vomit. I placed my hand on a table to keep from falling over. I tried to take in more deep breaths to calm myself but the vapors of bleach and vinegar just made me dizzier.
The edges of my vision started to close in when a burst of adrenaline pulled me back from the edge. A loud crash thundered from the other room followed by a string of curses. I needed to leave. I quickly tip-toed back across the room and into the closet.
The hands emerged once again from the slick, cool dry wall surrounding me and restrained me. Their grip not as strong this time as I wasn’t fighting them. The final two hands settled into place over my eyes and the next second they were gone along with the red light and the noxious smell of chemicals. I was back in my closet.
Immediately I set to work. I found whatever useless junk I could find in my house and I filled that closet to the point of bursting. Old quilts, books, picture frames, a nutcracker, the two bags of trash I had neglected to take out to the curb. I filled that closet until I was confident a person wouldn’t be able to stand in there.
I didn’t know how this fucked-up black magic teleporter thing worked, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I found a hammer and nails and quickly nailed a few planks of wood across the door frame.
I wasn’t sure my solution would work 100%, but at the very least it should buy me some time to get out of the house.
I spent the rest of the day sitting in my bed staring at my closet. I’m not kidding, the entire day. From sun-up to sundown, I sat there. As much as I hated being in that room with the closet, I hated having it out of my sight even more.
That night, true to his word – he came back for me.
I was nodding off when I heard the contents of the closet shift. I sat in the darkness and watched the closet. It was quiet for a few moments, then I heard the junk inside shift again. I stood up and quietly made my way over to the door and listened. The junk inside shifted quietly once more and I took one more step towards the door and pressed my ear to it, which was a mistake.
The door wasn’t secure on its hinges and the pressure I put on the door made it give slightly. The noises from the closet stopped, then a voice spoke to me from behind the door, “You figured it out, huh?”
I took a step back from the door. The contents of the closest shifted much more violently now and the voice made no intention of keeping quiet, “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
The doorknob to the closet started to shake, then once the man realized he was trapped, he started to attack the closet door. The door rattled in its frame as the man, restrained by the massive amount of clutter, tried his hardest to beat the door down. BOOM BOOM BOOM!
I panicked. I didn’t plan this far ahead, other than just “Leave” but that wouldn’t do me any good when the man would just come back the next day or the day after that. I could call the police, but whatever he used the closet to disappear again? They would throw me in a psych ward.
I quickly formulated a plan, I just hoped I had enough time to pull it off.
I sprinted outside and pulled my garden hose out of my storage shed and carried it inside where I used a knife to cut off the end where metal ring connects to the spigot. I carried the hose into my bedroom where the man was still locked in battle with the door. A small hole had been punched through the upper left portion of the door. A hammer was flailing wildly against the door there. It appeared all of the junk in the closet had pinned his hammer-wielding hand up above his head and that was the only area where he could get a decent swing in.
I’d need to get that hammer to but some more time.
Wasting no time, I jumped for it, trying to time his swings with my attempt. My first attempt was horribly timed and the hammer smashed one of my fingers, badly breaking it. My second attempt was better. I grabbed hold of the hammer and pulled. The man screamed as he fought me, but with his arm stuck at such an awkward angle he wasn’t able to use his full strength and I pried it from his grasp.
With the loss of his weapon the man went into a blind rage. A primal scream ripped through the house and he started attacking the door even more violently.
I resumed my plan.
I took the now malleable end of the hose which I had cut the metal connector off and jammed it under the frame of the closet door, hyper aware of the mad man just inches away from me.
I stood up and rushed out of the room, unspooling the house as I went.
Thank God I had a small house because I had just enough length in the hose to make it to my destination – the garage.
I fed the other end of the garden hose into my car’s exhaust pipe, then took shitload of duct tape and quickly sealed it in, making it as airtight as possible.
Then I turned my car on and I ran out the front door.
I ran for miles without stopping.
I’m on a computer at the public library now, waiting for the man in my closet to suffocate. Praying that the man in my closet will suffocate.
I’m not sure how long to wait, or what to do. If he survived, I’m sure he’s either lying in wait for me or will come back to kill me some other night.
If he didn’t…then I just killed someone. What would I even do with the body? Throw it back in the closet and hope those creepy voodoo hands take him back home?
Any and all advice is appreciated.
| https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bp6kn/someone_was_in_my_room_when_i_was_asleep/ | nosleep | mrbeefthighs |
false | If the wind is howling like a wolf, dont look out. And lock everything. | So, apparently ’’living the dream” sometimes can have downsides. I mean, I had it all. And I didn’t even need to work that much for it. Since I started highschool, I slowly started realising that I don’t need people around me. When a party, or school event was cancelled, and everyone was complaining, I secretly felt happy. It’s not like I’m fully antisocial, I liked spending time with friends, but I just didn’t need it. I was completly fine alone, with my only connection to the society being the internet.
I finished highschool like everyone else, and then went to university like nearly everyone else. And then came work. It was boring as hell. I saw the people around me, and old friends burn out, and become zombies, who repeat everyday the exact same way, or start drinking, or doing drugs in a worse case, and then either die early, or live as one of the thousands of biorobots of a company. And the worse part was when I noticed that I started to behave the same way. Getting up early, going to work, coming home, feeding my pets, scrolling endlessly on social media, and then going to bed, thinking of how I wasted my whole afternoon again. And then the ad, which changed my life, randomly popped up.
A farmhouse. A large one. Miles away from everyone. For such a low price that I tought for sure that it’s a scam. I mean who wouldn’t want to live in a place like that? Even though I didn’t think much of it at first. But then it popped up again. And again. At one point I checked the site. It seemed legit. So I eventually messaged the guy, because i tought that I can always turn it off if it turns out to be a scam.
Well, turns out it wasn’t a scam. The guy inherited it from his parents, but couldn’t do anything with the house, so he tried to get rid of it as fast as possible. And now I’m here. Thinking of the same, except I still want to continue this lifestile, but not here.
The first months went well. I was able to buy the livestock that was left ont he barn as well, so I got a relatively easy start. I had chickens, ducks, four small cows, two pigs and a donkey. This was a lucky start for me, because i was able to learn tze basic of animal keeping with a smaller population. In the following months, I expanded the numbers, with three horses (it was an old dream of mine, and they were proved to be useful eventually), some goats, turkeys, two emus, and a leonberger dog. Sorry. I’m getting off of the subject.
As the weeks passed, my routone started to form. Buti t was different than before. Here, everything which I had to do had a reason behind it, and I always had enough freetime as well. Everything went fine until the first sign. I wish I took that seriously, but of course I didn’t until it was too late.
In the summer, i taught horseriding to some local kids. It earned me some money, and I liked working with them. They weren’t loud and evil, like many city kids, and I enjoyed that I can teach them about the animals in general as well, so hopefully they wouldn’t gorw up to think like many others, who say that we are the only creatures that matter. On a late August afternoon, while we brushed the horses with some kids, who were big enough to do so, a girl turned to me. She was around 12, and obsessed with animals, and particulally horses. That’s common at her age, but she really cared about all parts of taking care of them and not just the riding. So, she was the one who turned to me with a scared face, and asked:
\-You are going to lock them up real good when the wind howls in the autumn, right?
\-Don’t worry, they wont get cold. -I answered, with a grin. She knew so much about them for her age, and yet she was still a child, not knowing that most animals tolerate cold weather better than humans.
\-Of course they don’t get cold! I’m talking about the times when the wind howls like a wolf! Will they be safe then? They shouldn’t be able to see outside, like you in those times.
\-Yes, darling. I’ll make sure that they are safe. -Yeah, I was stupid, and I should have listened tot he girl more, but I was tired, and to be honest, I didn’t reaílly care. I tought that she don’t want the horses to get scared or something. Even though she knew better than that.
Not long after, I basically forgot about this, until September came, and at one day, I went to the store in the nearest village, to buy some nails to fix up the fence of the cows.
\-Gettin’ ready for the howling winds? -Asked the cashier, as I paid for the nails.
\-No, the buildings are pretty strong, they won’t get blown away. I just need to fix a fence. -The cashier gave me a strange look, but didn’t say anything.
An other month passed, and October arrived. At this point, it became my habit to sit out ont he porch in a warm jacket, and watch the afternoon turning into night. Mouse, my dog was laying beside my chair, as i drank some tea, and wached the darkening sky. Thats when the wind started getting stronger. Fortunately, I didn’t feel much of it on the porch, but I saw the branches shaking, and the leaves of the nearby trees falling and dancing in the porch light. Then the sound started.
At first, it was like the usual sound of the wind, but there was something unsettling in it. Before this point, no matter how strong the wind was, it never really made a sound. A memory formed my mind, one of that summer afternoon with the little girl.
’’You are going to lock them up real good when the wind howls in the autumn, right?”
And suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
At the time I finished closing the animals in their sheds, the wind was howling. It was exactly like multiple wolfs. You couldn’t tell the difference at all. Mouse waited for me ont he porch, whining. In never heard him whine before, only hen I came home after a longer time than 15 minutes, and he was excited. But now he was scared. I called him in the house, and locked the door behind us. Not long after, the sound stopped. After the wind stopped, everything went silent, for some time and then smething started to rhustle outside. I peeked out of the front window to see whats causing it. This nearly led to my death.
At first, I saw nothing. Then, like some doomed musical, it started. It reminded me of the start of Cats (please don’t mention the movie, I’m not speaking about that abomination), where the actors come out to the stage and freeze, one by one. Except these things weren’t anything like actors. The first which jumped into the glaze of the porch light, looked like a wolf at first glance. But as its mates arived, one by one, frozen in the position which they landed in in the light, I started to see some things that were off. They had longer fingers on their front legs, almost like ours, and their legs bended in weird angles. Their mouths were too wide, and their eyes didn’t look like wolf eyes at all. Some of them didn’t even have pupils if I saw it right.
At first, they just stood there, frozen. Then, seemingly without any cordination, some of them vanished into the darkness. And then, the others started to dance. Yes, they were dancing, or at least they were doing something really similar. I can’t really describe it, but it looked so beautiful, that I started to feel eager to join them, and constantly had to remind myself that this is not right. But the movement slowly sucked me in, until the point where I didn’t even care when I saw the other creatures return with one of my horses. The poor animal’s eyes were rolling in terror, but it couldn’t run anywhere, because the wolves surrounded it, leading it to the middle of a forming circle. Then again, everything stopped for a second. The horse stood perfectly still in the middle, while the wolves stalekd it without any movement at all. And then one of them jumped ont he horses back, its mouth opening awfully wide, ripping into the neck of the poor thing. This broke the stillness, and the pack immediately swarmed the body. There wasn’t any order, they would even bite each other without hesistation.
The beauty of their previous performance was gone. But not entirelly. There was some beauty in this chaos, the primal rage of nature, which you can only feel when you have an adrenaline brust. I caught myself pressing my face tot he window, my mouth watering, as these unnatural beasts devoured the remains of one of my beloved animals. And then the one which I assumed to be the pack leader, looked up with its bloodsoaked face. It lifted one of its front leg, and made the univrsal sign of ’come here’ with its weird, elongated fingers. I knew I had to go. I wanted to run with the pack, to howl with them in the night, to hunt, to became one with them. My legs carried themselves to the front door.
I was stopped halfway. My dear, lovely Mouse grabbed my shirt, and started pulling it with all of his strenght. Fortunately, he didn’t tear the shirt. I stopped. The spell started to break. As the dog felt that I stopped, he let go of me, and started barking. And that was the point when I got my full control back. Then I heard something scretching my door. Then banging on it. Mouse stood in front o me, barking loudly at the door. I wasn’t able to do anything. And then, suddenly, as it began, it stopped. There was only silence. Then the wind. It howled like a wolfpack.
There was nothing left of the poor horse when I checked in the morning. The two remaining horse and the donkey run out of their shed, and I had to spend the morning trying to gain back their trust, and build up their confidence, to come back to their home. The next day, I went to the village, to buy more nails, planks, and fence support. The cashier didn’t say anything, but from his eyes, I knew that he knew why I need those.
Sincet hat doomed day, it happended three times. I didn’t look out again, and there aren’t any new victims, but the banging ont he door keeps getting stronger. They are desperate.
So please, alwys listen tot he old village tales. You don’t want a similar situation. And if the wind starts howling like a wolf, close everything, and all of your animals, and never ever look out.
| https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bsjwn/if_the_wind_is_howling_like_a_wolf_dont_look_out/ | nosleep | FatCarnotaurus |
false | I'm A Pro Detailer, and I'm a Bad Luck Magnet | Prt 1
https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15t6ziz/im\_a\_pro\_detailer\_i\_just\_detailed\_the\_car\_of\_a/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3
Prt 2 [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/162bk1o/im\_a\_professional\_detailer\_i\_just\_detailed\_a\_car/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/162bk1o/im_a_professional_detailer_i_just_detailed_a_car/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
​
I really, really wish I had believed that woman when she brought her car to the shop. That friggin', seemingly-sketchy, seemingly-tweaked-out woman. I should've passed on the job and let Charlie, that douche, take it. If anyone deserved to be harrassed, it was that jumped-up, has-been, paint correcting asshole.
Yet, I was the one who detailed, and was harassed by, that demon car. It was so soon after detailing the car of a murderer that I was shaken up enough to consider giving up my detailing career altogether. Like… what are the friggin odds?! Am I some sort of bad-juju magnet? Or was it the shop itself that seemed to draw the crazies and the weirdos? I had spent only two hours on that vehicle, and yet I was bruised and battered, both inside, and out. My nerves were shot and my spirit was close to breaking. The $50 tip the demon-car lady left me wasn't near enough to soothe the wounds of abuse I had sustained. I didn't know why this kept happening, but I left the shop that evening feeling more afraid than I've ever been.
I was shaking so bad I almost dropped my keys as I unlocked my old Honda and climbed inside. I took a second to catch my breath, and turned the ignition, itching to get the hell away from that shop. First Charlie, then murderers, then demons, oh my…
I peeled out, narrowly missing Charlie as he sauntered to his vehicle. "Hey, watch it, dickhead!" I heard him shout after me. I didn't care; I could feel the relief from leaving that place all the way to my toenails.
I drove faster than I really should've been, but again didn't care. I only cared about putting every mile I could between me and the detail shop of horrors. I came to myself enough to realize I needed to calm down before I killed myself, or someone else. I decided to find some tunes on the radio. I clicked on the dial, and started surfing the channels until settling on AC/DC; I enjoyed Angus Young's 6-string antics.
I began to feel more stable, and really started getting into the song, when the dial started turning on its own accord. It flipped between station to station, faster and faster, the whiny white noise between stations growing louder and louder.
"No…" my voice was shaky with dread. "No, no, no…"
The radio settled on a song; another oldie. Sympathy for the Devil. "Oh, fuck you!" I yelled!
It's in my car! I think that damn demon jumped into my car!
I couldn't handle it. I couldn't take the idea of it still being with me!! I squealed the car to the shoulder, killed the ignition, hopped out of the car, and walked away. I was done. I had reached my limit for the day, thank you. I walked the rest of the way home. It took two hours. I didn't care
\*\*\*
I woke up to the sound of my cell-phone going off. Wake up call for 7AM on a Friday, anyone? Goddamnit…
I groggily reached for the device and thumbed the talk button. They better have a good reason for this…
"Hnnn… heh-hello?" I barely felt like a person.
*"Hi, is this Mr. Kevin Jameson?"*
"Um… yea, yea I'm Kevin. What's this about? Is everything ok?"
*"Oh! Well, generally speaking, I guess you can say everything is fine. It's just that your car was found abandoned by local law enforcement early this morning, and I'm sorry to say that it had to be impounded. Is everything ok? Does that ring any bells for you?"*
Shit. The events of last night came crashing back. I full-on left my car on the side of the road. No wonder my feet were so sore.
*"Mr. Jameson? Are you still with me?"*
"Um… yea… yea, um…" What did I say? That there's possibly a demon possessing my car? Yea right. They'd impound me into a padded room. "There was… a… a spider." I winced as the lame excuse rolled off my tongue.
There was a long pause.
*"...a spider."*
"Um, yea, a big, fat, hairy spider. I'm… I'm terrified of them, you know? I couldn't get back in the car, I was so afraid." A long pause followed.
*"Uh-huh…"* Another long pause. *"Well… spider, or no spider, you have seven days to reclaim your vehicle, or it's going to be sent to the repo house. Please bring any and all ID with you when you arrive. Try to have a good day, Mr. Jameson."* There was definitely a hint of a smile at the end of that benison.
Hanging up the phone, I lay there, wondering just what the hell I was going to do. Fuck it, I thought. It seems I'm biking today.
I pulled my 6-speed out of the back of the garage. I had to pump up the tires; I kept telling myself I'd go for rides some day but never really got around to it. Not wanting to immediately claim my car, I decided to grab lunch before heading into work.
\*\*\*
Jesus. Christ. That day sucked. Three full details, two of which were full of dog hair, and one required an hour's worth of upholstery extraction. I swear, those people used their car as a kitchen. I was NOT relishing the bike home. Thus were the consequences of my choices; thus what made me decide to go in on my Saturday to deal with the impound. I mean, I didn't know for sure if that demon had jumped to my car; I couldn't keep the bike routine up indefinitely while working; ergo, the car was (unfortunately) the most logical course of action. Biking home that night was a trial, filled with trepidation, irritation, and a lot of swearing.
\*\*\*
I chose to sleep in. I chose to spend one morning, one blissful morning, not worrying about a single damn thing. It was near closing time before I managed to schlep my ass to the impound and break my car out of vehicular prison. I was filled with anxiety as I started to drive home. I flipped on the radio to try and distract myself, and settled on a station playing some trashy pop music by some pop starlet or other. Distraction. I just needed the distraction. I just needed..
And the radio began its seizure-esque craziness again! It flipped from station to station to station, filled with static and screeching, until it finally stopped. On AC/DC. Playing Highway to Hell.
"Oh you've gotta be fucking kidding m-"
Before the words were out of my mouth the wheel of the car suddenly jerked out of my hands! Left! Then right! Careening me back and forth across the road, every hard jerk left bringing me further and further into oncoming traffic. I desperately grabbed at the wheel, my knuckles white, my hands cramping from the force of my effort to regain control. The radio screeched, shrieking, with cackling laughter and throaty growling and a low voice repeating "DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE" threaded through all the cacophony. On the next sudden veer right I slammed on the brakes and squealed to a halt, and without killing the engine I launched myself out of the car and ran, right down a nearby alley, the screeching laughter following in my ears. I couldn't make it further than a block before my shaking legs refused to carry me, and I collapsed against the wall.
I have no close relatives, and my friends are barely a step up from acquaintances. I'm writing now, reaching out to a community that understands, a community that KNOWS about these things, a commun-
\*
\*
\*
\*
*Oh, yay. David found his phone! So many words! The young driver man wrote you all a little story! How cute! David doesn't know what this young man was running from; whatever it was must've given him such a terrible fright; whatever it was sure does like to laugh a lot. Something in his car, it seems? David couldn't see anybody, but he blew right past David as he ran down the alley, and didn't even say hello! Cobra says that's rude >:(. David's guessing that's what the young man was here to share with you, something about his laughing car.*
*Oh well! Laughter is all relative! Haha! :)*
*David doesn't really care because there's so-oooooo ma-aaaany words, and poor ol' David, here, gets a little bored with stories, and cobra gets very impatient. Bottom line, unfortunately the young driver man with the laughing car won't be able to finish his sad, sad, tale. David came up behind him while he was writing his story and took some liberties with this quaint little 2×4! By 6! By 8! Teehee!! Cobra knew just the spot, right at the base of his head, to make him stop and drop so nicely!! David will post this here anyway, as a kind gesture. Cobra always says it's good to be kind. Cobra also says it's time for David to focus up, so David is signing off! It's time for us to get to working on this poor young driver man. You see, he has too many limbs; it's disgusting, and cobra says David has to earn his time with cobra…*
*I'm sure David will be seeing some of you soon,*
*Sincerely,*
*David and cobra.* | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bvvdq/im_a_pro_detailer_and_im_a_bad_luck_magnet/ | nosleep | baileyssinger |
false | I found my family’s corpses buried in the forest. So who has been living with me in my house? [part 2] | Part 1
[https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/170q5q2/i\_found\_my\_familys\_corpses\_buried\_in\_the\_forest/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/170q5q2/i_found_my_familys_corpses_buried_in_the_forest/)
​
The 911 operator assured me that vehicles were en route, and that I should stay at the house with my neighbor Al until they made sure the area was safe. Under no circumstances should I go outside until the police arrived. It all sounded normal and sensible at the time, and I had no suspicion that things would become nightmarish and lethal within minutes.
Al had listened to me frantically try to describe the situation to the 911 operator with wide eyes, his wrinkled old face showing fear and confusion. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, but he never drank any of it.
“Is that true?” he asked after I hung up. “Brandi and Emma are dead? You found their bodies in the forest?” I nodded grimly. I hadn’t told the 911 operator about the doppelgangers in the house or their bizarre and psychotic behavior. I figured once the police saw the bodies, my story would become a lot more believable, but I didn’t want to sound like a lunatic over the phone, lest the police come and think I was some delusional maniac who had just murdered my own wife and daughter and was trying to cover my own ass by calling and reporting it. I had watched more than enough true crime shows to know that, whenever a wife or husband is murdered, their spouse is always the first suspect until cleared by forensics or an alibi.
It seemed like no time passed when I heard tires screeching outside and vehicles pulling up in a frenzy. I looked outside, expecting to see police lights flashing, wondering why no sirens had sounded. My heart leaped into my throat when I saw three black SUVs filled with men in suits. They leapt out, holding automatic rifles. Without warning, they pointed the guns at the house and began firing.
Fifteen dark silhouettes lined up on the street outside, looking like a firing squad at a military execution. When the first bullets exploded through the wall, I was so surprised that I didn’t even move. I saw Al standing there with his mouth hanging open as a bullet shattered his coffee cup, sending the steaming hot black liquid all over the floor yet missing his hand entirely.
A second later, another one came in and exploded through his chest. In slow motion, I saw a flower of blood blossom out from the gaping hole that suddenly appeared in the center of his heart. He didn’t so much as cry out, but instead fell back instantly, moving his hands up as if in supplication as he clenched and unclenched his fingers. His mouth opened and closed silently as a puddle of blood rapidly spread out beneath him on the linoleum kitchen floor. Then my instinct kicked in. As glasses shattered and dishes exploded and lightbulbs burst all around me, I jumped to the floor, crawling towards the back door, making myself as small a target as possible.
At that moment, I didn’t even realize I had dragged myself through the warm sticky mess pooling beneath Al’s still body. His pupils dilated in death and his mouth opened in surprise. The blood completely covered my white shirt and blue jeans. I dragged my arms and hands through it as light after light went out, each bulb exploding in turn as gunfire strafed across the house over and over, left to right, then right to left, then left to right again.
After what felt like an eternity, the shooting stopped. I had nearly reached the back door by this point. I also looked like a serial killer, with my clothing, shoes and skin mostly covered by Al’s blood. It made me feel sick to my stomach, and a part of me wanted to rip the soiled clothes off and throw them to the side as I went.
I jumped up, flinging the door open and running out into the dark night beyond. Behind me, I heard the front door smash open as the men kicked their way inside. The last thing I heard from that house was them running from room to room, yelling “Clear!” And then I reached the border of the forest, and I was quickly swallowed up in the shadows of the trees.
\*\*\*
As I wandered blindly through the trees in mortal terror, covered in goosebumps and sweating heavily, I heard the men destroy the back door of the house. They had apparently cleared the house and realized I was no longer inside. Reality felt like a nightmare, dissociated and surreal. I couldn’t believe any of this was happening, but my instincts took over, and with high amounts of adrenaline surging through my blood, I ran like I never have before. The men began to come out into the forest, sprinting, turning on bright LED lights attached to the ends of their automatic rifles.
I had the advantage in that I knew these woods well. The men certainly had me beat on physical strength and stamina though. They all looked like gym rats, their muscles bulging under their black suits, their thick bodies striding forward with purpose. They all stood tall and still for a moment as their cold killers’ eyes surveyed the surroundings, reptilian and emotionless.
I heard more SUVs coming to a screeching halt in front of my house, and soon the sound of many dogs barking echoed across the forest. I knew they were tracking me, and they would soon find me and kill me. No one would ever know what had happened here, lest of all me. And no one would ever be able to prevent it from happening again, with the destruction of the sole living witness to the bizarre replacement of my family.
I ran towards a large rock formation I knew nearby, with small indentations allowing a man to fit in the wide cracks of the thirty-foot tall cylinders of stone. This was a place I liked to come and sit during happier times, sometimes just meditating and listening to the sound of the birds and breathing in the clean air of the woods. Now, I hoped in my time of desperation that it would come to my aid again.
I heard the dogs getting closer and saw the lights separate into smaller and smaller groups as the agents combed every inch of the forest, sweeping their rifles up to down and left to right as they looked into every crevice and behind every tree.
I saw a single light drawing near. My heart seemed to stop. I knelt down low, feeling the ground with my trembling fingers. I found a large, flat stone that must have weighed a good ten pounds. Making myself as small a target as possible, I waited for the figure to pass right by my hiding spot. Even though this happened a couple months ago now, I still remember the rising waves of anxiety that gripped my heart as this assassin stood before me.
As soon as the light began turning to examine the dark corners of the indentation I crouched in, I sprang forwards, waves of adrenaline giving me amazing strength and reflexes. The man saw me at the last moment, his eyes widening as his finger began to tighten on the trigger, and then I smashed the rock into the front of his skull.
His neck twisted to the side, his eyes instantly drooping as his body went slack. I dropped the rock onto the leaf-strewn ground and caught him in the same movement, dragging his limp body back into the shallow groove of the rock where I hid. I took the automatic rifle off of him, flicking off the light and feeling around in his belt for extra magazines of ammunition. I found three extra clips. I fumbled around until I found a latch to release the magazines, unclipping them one after another and shoving them into my pockets. The man quickly started to stir, groaning and moving his head slowly from side to side, his eyes still clenched shut.
“Ohhhh,” he mumbled, his eyes beginning to flutter. “Ohhh, my head. Jesus. What…” His blue eyes opened suddenly, and he looked directly at me, an icy hatred changing his expression in a single moment. “Oh, it’s you. Julius Thorne.” He spat my name with venom, staring directly at me even as blood trickled down his cheeks from his forehead.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said. “What the fuck is going on right now? Why did you psychopaths murder my neighbor and try to kill me?” He just shook his head and kept his mouth tightly shut. I waited a few seconds, giving him a chance to answer. When I realized he wasn’t planning on talking, I sighed, steeling myself for what I knew I had to do.
Raising the rifle up above my head, I quickly brought the butt of the gun down into the center of his nose. I heard it crunch, a fountain of blood exploding from the front of his face. He started to open his mouth to scream, but I turned the gun around and pointed it straight at his right eye.
“If you scream, I’ll kill you right here,” I said. “I have nothing to lose right now, and I’d rather go down fighting.” He bit his lip so deeply that a small trickle of blood began to stream down his chin, but he didn’t scream or cry out, despite the immense pain he looked to be in.
“Now maybe we can try this again,” I said, giving him a grim smile. “Why did you guys want to kill me? Why are you chasing me?”
“We are agents who have been tasked with detecting and destroying anomalies that have arisen across the United States,” he said, scowling at me with hatred, his words coming out somewhat distorted as he constantly spat blood. “People usually call us the Cleaners. Mostly we deal with incidents in small towns, like this one, though sometimes shit hits the fan in the cities too. Hell, just last week we had a werewolf in New York City. Press thought it was some serial killer who ripped apart his victims with a knife, but any coroner worth his salt would immediately be able to tell it had actually been claws and fangs. But we found him and brought him in for… containment. He had already killed three joggers and seven homeless people by then.”
“Yeah? So what does any of that have to do with me?” I asked, furious. I hated these men so badly at that moment. I had asked for help, and instead, assassins had come to my side.
“Your wife and daughter are dead,” he replied. “But you’re not the first one to call and say you found the grave of your family. In every other case, the police found the people still alive and healthy in the house, and the graves totally empty by the time we got there. But there were always indications that the individuals still living had changed. They always began to show psychotic and violent behavior, and inevitably, they would kill their own family members, neighbors, hell, anyone in the area.
“When the anomaly is allowed to proceed, the entire town often ends up being destroyed. We lost over ten thousand people in a single incident last year. So we come in and contain it by killing anyone associated with the anomaly, to stop it from spreading. Because it does spread, and it seems to spread by association. It starts with a couple people on a street, then the rest of their house, then their next-door neighbors, and keeps going outwards, like ripples spreading outwards in a pond.”
By this point, I heard dogs getting closer and closer, and saw lights flashing through the trees in the distance, aimed in my direction. I quickly ripped a strip of fabric from the agent’s shirt and tied his hands and feet before binding his mouth so he couldn’t scream. I knew they would still probably find him within ten minutes or so, but that might be all I needed to get out of here. And now, at least, I had a gun.
I sprinted out of the woods, taking the trail in the opposite direction of the agents. I had to move in the dark, which slowed me down significantly, but I had been on these trails a thousand times before. Soon, the shouting of the men and the barking of the dogs grew faint behind me, and I came out on an empty side road.
I knew the area well. Richie lived only a few blocks from here. Without thinking, I began to stagger down the road, the streetlights flashing on and off above me. I saw faces peering out of windows as I passed. I must have looked like a madman, being totally covered in blood with wide, panicked eyes that constantly snapped in the direction of the smallest sound. Yet, amazingly, not a single person came out of their house. I wondered how many of the faces were just those who were replaced, doppelgangers with the right human skin but without any of the human mind, except maybe for its most destructive and insane impulses.
Within minutes, I found myself stumbling through Richie’s front yard towards his little ranch house, a massive wrap-around porch with pillars painted white in front of the light-blue siding. He had Halloween decorations all over the place. A scarecrow was crucified in the front yard, fake blood streaming from its hands and feet. A massive painting of a reptilian humanoid with black, shining skin and tentacles coming out of its mouth stood in front of the porch, like some nightmare from an HP Lovecraft story. Fake gravestones were lined up, row after row of gray foam with skeletal hands rising out from the grass in front of them.
I saw plumes of smoke rising from a chimney connected to the fireplace, the smell of wood-smoke and decaying autumn leaves mixing in a pleasant scent that always reminds me of Halloween.
I pounded on the door until Richie came and opened it. His eyes widened as he saw me.
“Holy shit, Thorne, what happened?” he asked. I pushed past him, looking back furtively at the street and the dark forest stretching out before us. Hidden danger seemed to be everywhere.
“Close the door,” I told Richie. He quickly shut it and turned the deadbolt. He turned to me, his face pale, a shocked expression on his face.
“Are you hurt?” he asked. “Whose blood is that? Is that yours?”
“No,” I said curtly, shaking my head. “I don’t have time to explain it all now. Some men are after me. I think they’re from the government. My neighbor is dead. My family is dead.” I broke down then, crying. “I need help. I really, really need help right now.”
“OK, OK, I believe you,” he said reassuringly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It’s gonna be OK. That’s a nice gun, by the way.” He gave me a calming smile. I had nearly forgotten about the automatic rifle slung around my shoulder. I looked down at it with a blank expression, like I had just discovered a new limb on my body.
“Hey, how about we get you a change of clothes and then we’ll figure out what to do?” he said. “Come with me to my room. I think you’re about my size.” I gratefully followed him. He gave me an old shirt and hoodie and a pair of jeans. I stripped off my bloody clothes, feeling how the drying, coagulating blood crackled under my dirt-stained fingers as I stripped.
I felt a small sense of hope as I put on the clean clothes. I had my friend here with me now. I had escaped. I wasn’t alone in this anymore at least.
At that moment, I heard a knock at the front door. It sounded light and hesitant, like the knocking of a small child.
I walked quickly out of the room and saw Richie standing there, the front door standing wide open, a nightmarish shape standing on the porch. It looked like a person, but deep, blackened burns covered every inch of their skin. Only their eyes still had any humanity left, two shining pits of despair with green irises and massively dilated pupils. They constantly teared up and rolled from side to side in agony.
The person held out their arms in front of them, as if they were in so much pain that they didn’t even want their arms to touch their body. I couldn’t tell the race or gender of the person through the immense damage to their body.
Yellowish fluid mixed with bright trails of blood seeped from cracks in its destroyed skin. It constantly moaned. The weeping wounds all over its body cried constantly, and the smell of smoke and gasoline radiated off the dying person on the porch.
“Unnng,” the figure said. “Ohhh. God, help. Please!”
“Oh my God,” Richie said, putting his hand over his mouth. “Holy shit. We need an ambulance here immediately.” He furiously checked his pockets. Then he spun, his eyes in a blind panic. “My phone’s upstairs! We need to call 911 right now.”
“No, Richie!” I screamed. “When I called 911, those men came and tried to kill me! They’re not on our side.” I wished I had more time to explain. Richie heard the note of panic in my voice. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and the anxiety I felt seemed reflected in his expression.
“Well, we have to do something!” he said, a pleading tone in his voice. He looked like he wanted to turn and run away from the whole situation. Then he stopped and stared at the figure more closely. “Oh Jesus, is that you, Melissa?” With those words, my heart jumped into my throat. I turned to the figure with new-found horror.
Melissa and Richie had dated for nearly a year. Looking closer at the figure, I could see that it did appear to be a woman, at least as far as I could tell from the curve of the body under the blackened skin. Melissa was white and thin, about five-foot-six. This thing with third-degree burns all over its body was certainly the right height and build.
“It hurts,” she said, her voice gurgling and loud. “Oh, it hurts so bad. Kill me. Please kill me. Unnng.” She waved her arms, as if trying to cool them with the crisp autumn air.
“That’s it, I’m calling an ambulance,” Richie said, running past me. I followed closely behind him, leaving the door wide open. We went upstairs. He pulled his phone from its charger and opened it, dialing 911.
He frowned, listening for what seemed like a long time. Then he gave me the phone. As I pressed it to my ear, I heard an emotionless message read by a robot with a woman’s voice coming through.
“...stay in your homes until the situation is resolved. Thank you for your help in this trying time.” Then it began to repeat, starting at the beginning.
“This is a recording. Emergency services in your area have been temporarily suspended. Help is on the way. Under Executive Order 718, martial law has been declared in your area. Until it arrives, please keep your doors locked and windows closed. Stay in your homes until the situation is resolved.”
“What the fuck is this?” Richie said, infuriated. “What do they mean, ‘emergency services are temporarily suspended’?”
“Why don’t we take her straight to the hospital?” I asked. His eyes brightened at this.
“Yeah, let’s do it. What other choice do we have? She needs help immediately. She’s going to die without it,” he said gloomily, his eyes growing moist. “But the phone says to stay inside.”
“I really hate to say it, but I think she’s going to die regardless,” I said. “No one can survive third-degree burns over the vast majority of their body.” We moved back downstairs, the phone in Richie’s hand. As we came down the stairs, we saw the front door still stood open.
Melissa was gone. I ran forward, seeing drops of blood and pus on the deck where she had stood. Yet there was no sign of her. Where could she have gone? She couldn’t have walked far in her condition. I was amazed she was still conscious at all. She must have been in some of the worst pain imaginable.
I saw a figure walking up the porch stairs. I sighed, thinking Melissa had come back. And she had, in a way.
She stood before us now, fully healed, her clothes new and unburnt. She had an ear-to-ear grin across her face, and she kept one hand behind her back.
“Richie,” she said slowly, as if tasting the word. “Oh, Richie, I’m so happy to see you. A lot of strange things have happened tonight.” Richie’s eyes glistened as tears began to slide down his face.
“Melissa?” he said, his voice cracking. “Oh my God, Melissa. It’s really you, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is, baby,” she said, moving a lock of blonde hair out of her face with her left hand. Her right stayed behind her back. She talked like Melissa, and she even seemed to have some of her mannerisms. But in her wide, staring eyes, there was a look of bloodlust and lunacy.
“Richie, stay the hell back,” I said. “That’s not Melissa.” But he ran forward, crying, his arms outstretched. I don’t even know if he heard what I said.
As he crossed the threshold of the door, Melissa pulled her hand from behind her back, revealing a huge, blood-stained butcher’s knife. Raising it high, she ran forward, her eyes as cold as the vast empty spaces between worlds.
Part 3
https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17dlram/i_found_my_familys_corpses_buried_in_the_forest/ | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bi9pp/i_found_my_familys_corpses_buried_in_the_forest/ | nosleep | CIAHerpes |
false | If you see me, kill me on sight. | **WARNING: IF YOU SEE ME, YOU ARE IN GRAVE DANGER! I don’t have many other ways of putting this, but if you see a man with a machete, especially if he sees you, KILL HIM! Whether you have to run, get a weapon and hide to jump me or have something you can use as a weapon in hand, USE IT TO KILL ME!**
Sorry, I’ll start my story from the beginning so you can understand why.
It happened a week ago, around midnight, my phone rang, waking me. Feeling groggy, I looked down at my phone; it was my son. I picked it up in annoyance and answered, “Tom?”
“Dad! Dad! I need help!” he sounded distraught, “I… I–”
“Slow down!” I interrupted, “Just tell me, what's going on?!”
“I… I killed someone…”
My heart dropped. I was, however slight, still comforted by what he said next: “It was an accident! He was trying to kill me! I didn’t have a choice!” He became hysterical again, but this time, I had no words of comfort; I didn’t know what to say. Finally, his frantic explanation became a single, lucid question: “What do I do?!”
I was sweating and panicking, yet I had to answer him with something. “Just… wait where you are!” I said, “I’ll come to you! Where are you?!”
“I’m… I’m on one of the streets near home. I was… out… I–”
“It’s alright,” I said, knowing he was out clubbing again; he is underage, and I have caught him before. “Wait there and call the police!”
“But, Dad…” he squeaked pathetically.
“No!” I exclaimed, knowing lying would only cause more harm, “Wait where you are and call the police. We’ll explain everything to them. It was self-defence, right?” He didn’t respond, just whimpered into the phone. “Listen,” I said, “it will be alright. Please, wait there and call the police.” Silence, “Tom?!” Then he hung up.
I threw on some clothes and got into my car. My mind was distracted by the shocking revelation of my son’s call. But my resolve was straightforward: My son needed me! For some context, my son, who was only 15, lived with my wife in a flat she rented. I won’t get into the details of our relationship issues; only they separated us, and I lived an hour-and-a-half’s drive away. I couldn’t have been more unprepared.
It wasn’t an uneventful drive, however. I was only getting to a main road before my son rang me again. I stopped to take the call because the police might have pulled me over for being on my phone while driving. He was breathing heavily, and he said nothing. “Tom?” I asked, frightened of what might have just occurred, “Tom?! What happened, Tom?! Are you alright?!”
What he said shakes me to my core still. And it was the last and most terrifying answer he could have produced, “I killed Mum.”
The silence after that was unbearable and eternal. If my mind hadn’t entered a catatonic state, I would have thought my phone had turned off. Or, maybe the world had turned off, as there wasn’t a single sound whatsoever. Finally, my mouth said the dumbest yet most suitable response I think it could have produced: “What?”
Whether he heard it or not, I do not know, but he hung up again right after. I instantly tried calling him back, desperate for some explanation other than my son losing his mind and becoming some homicidal maniac, but he wasn’t answering. Instead, he texted me; I can only assume he felt so guilty that he could not speak to me. I think the best way to convey our conversation is to simply transcribe the messages, which I am recalling from memory, here:
Tom: I’m sorry
Me: What happened?
*There was a very long pause between my texts here.*
Me: I need to know
Tom: I just saw her
Tom: And something made me do it
*Another long pause.*
Tom: Dad?
Me: I don’t understand
Tom: I don’t know how else to put it
Tom: I saw her and some urge made me kill her
Tom: I think I am losing my mind
Me: Did she come to you?
Tom: No
Tom: I went home
*I paused to think about what to do next.*
Me: Did you call the police?
Tom: No
Me: Wait there don’t go anywhere I will come to you
Tom: Ok
I wanted to believe I was dreaming. I had no idea what was happening, and I don’t think I ever will wholly understand. None of it made any sense. Yet that night only got worse. And I only hope what I did next was the right thing.
Right after Tom sent that reconfirming text, I dialled 999 as fast as my phone would let me. “Emergency, which service?” the operator asked me. But I froze. I was so distracted by everything that had happened that I hadn’t thought about what I would say to the police when they picked up. “Hello?” the operator asked. But I was asking myself whether they could help or whether they would lock up my son; I would never see him again. I am not a dishonest man. Yet I knew something was happening that I couldn’t understand; my son wasn’t a mentally unstable person. He might be troublesome, but he wasn’t a psychopath. So, I hung up without a word and continued my journey.
I don’t know what I expected of my son, to be patient, I suppose. But he started texting me while I was on the highway not long later. I glanced down at my phone on the passenger seat, reading his texts while I drove. From what I read, he hadn’t listened to what I said:
Tom: Dad I know you said to stay at home
Tom: But I think I know where I need to go
*I read his messages as I tried to find somewhere to pull over. I was unsuccessful.*
Tom: I don’t know how else to say this but more is happening here than I can understand
Tom: I don’t want to put you in danger too
Tom: So please don’t come for me
I couldn’t handle what he told me while hesitating to pick up my phone. So, I just picked it up and called him then and there. He answered almost immediately, “Dad?!”
“Tom, what are you saying?!” I yelled, “What happened?!”
“Dad, I know you said not to go anywhere!” he explained in a rushed, panicked manner, “But I had to go back! I needed to get the machete!”
“What machete?!”
“The machete I was attacked with, ever since I used it to kill that guy, I’ve…”
“Tom?! What are you talking about?!”
If I could see him, I imagined him starting to cry, and it hurt to imagine it. “Dad… I killed Mum. Then I went back, and the police were there…”
“The police?”
“I don’t… I don’t think they were police. They had guns, I don’t know how I did it, but I–”
“Tom!” I felt my resolve return to me, “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come to you! This is serious! And I can’t help you if you just keep talking nonsense!”
“Dad…” something changed once more in his voice as it sounded more mature, “You don’t understand; if I see you for even a second, I… I won’t be able to stop myself…”
“Where are you?!” I shouted, fear and anger erupting from me, “Tom! Please! I–”
“I’m sorry…”
Then he hung up once more. I had become an emotional wreck after that. However, I didn’t try to phone back, as though I knew how pointless of an endeavour it would be. I just stepped on it.
It still took me three-quarters of an hour to get there, and for that entire journey, I heard nothing back from Tom, which had my worries and fears peaking. I was lucky, nonetheless, as so much adrenalin was coursing through my veins that the time went by quickly. Down one of the streets, the one I think everything my son described to me happened, there was a swarm of police cars, more than I have ever seen in one place outside a film. It was simply chaos. It did confirm my son wasn’t pranking me, which I silently hoped would be the case, as remote as it was.
Before I continue, people reading this might wonder why they haven’t heard of this happening. All I can say is to keep reading, and it will become clear.
My first course of action was to contact my son. I tried calling him, but he wouldn’t pick up. I began fearing the worst, but I would not give up. I thought about talking to the police; maybe he was in police custody. But, if he wasn’t, the police may have questions for me regarding my son. Either way, I wouldn’t be allowed to see him. I thought about finding the place he mentioned in his messages, but he didn’t give me enough information on where he would go to find answers. So, in my mind, there was only one other place I could hope to find him, as long as he went somewhere familiar: home.
As I got to the flat’s front door, it was left open, which disturbed me but didn’t turn me away. I believed if Tom returned to the scene, he wouldn’t care whether he had closed the front door. The scene I walked into was far worse than I imagined.
I’m unsure how my mind forgot my son telling me he killed my wife, but I must have misplaced the memory in disbelief. Some people can find closure in confirming the identity of their deceased loved one. However, not many people would have to identify them by only their clothes. I knew it was her only by her nightgown. Her face was unidentifiable, crushed inwards. I would wonder how, but it doesn’t matter. No one is ready to see such a sight, even if they expect to see it. I broke down for a minute or two, thinking about how I could have prevented everything from happening the way it did. I know it is never good to blame yourself, but all I could do was think about if I had just been there: if I could have avoided the petty squabbles I and my wife had.
It took a few minutes of embracing my wife before I found the strength to search for Tom once more, though I was running out of possible actions I could take. So I resorted to phoning him again. Each ring was tenser than the last, and I didn’t think he would pick up. Then, when I had hesitated to hope, I heard his voice, “Dad!”
“Tom! Tom, I’m here! Please tell me where you are!”
“Dad…” his voice sounded even bleaker than before, like a young soldier would after witnessing war for the first time, “I’m sorry.”
“Please, Tom! We can figure this out!” I cried as I re-entered the street, “Please!”
“You're not listening, Dad. This is bigger than I could have ever expected! I can’t rope you in as well!”
“Tom, don’t! It’s not too late, and I don’t care what’s happening! Please, just tell me where you are!”
He paused for a long while before sternly saying, “No! No, I can’t! It’s too late. Just don’t try to find me. I… I…” he paused again, this time as though alerted by someone or something. When he came back, he was quieter, “Oh god! Fuck!”
“Tom?” I asked.
“Shit! Shit! It’s hi–”
“Tom?! Tom!” But he had hung up yet again.
I slumped against a wall in defeat on some street I don’t remember the name of, tears rolling down my cheeks and nowhere left to look. Then, reacting like I heard a car horn, I heard a gunshot, which sounded suppressed, almost like a firework. It was echoey, but I could just about tell where it originated from. Without wasting a second longer, I ran towards the sound’s source.
My dash down the street toward the gunfire almost became pointless, just as my search for my son had. Then I found a man in his dressing gown, looking across the street, in front of his open door, in the middle of the pavement, looking confused. It could have been useless asking him, but I didn't know where next to go, and I was running out of time. “Excuse me?!” I pleaded to the man, “Have you seen my son?! I think he was just here! He is only 15, and he couldn’t have gone far! Please! He must have been here! Please!”
The man looked into my eyes while his face remained emotionless and ghost-like. Then he weakly raised his hand to point in some vague direction and quietly said, “He went that way.” I thanked him and hastily made my way towards where he directed. I couldn’t thank him properly, as I never got the chance to see him again or find out who he was. Nevertheless, whoever he was and no matter how little he did to help, I thank him for it.
My search led me to some dark alley, out of sight of the public. What I found there simultaneously terrified me and brought me great relief. I found my son on top of someone, a man wearing jet-black combat gear, looking battered and war-torn. My son was strangling him with the intent to kill. I knew everything he told me was true, but the fact still shocked me: My son was murdering people. I was roughly 10 metres away from him and without other action than to call out to him, “Tom!”
I wish I didn’t. When Tom was distracted by me, he glanced at me with some strange mix of grief and malice. Then, within that brief moment, his face contorted with pain; as he was stabbed in the back by the dying man on the ground with a machete, the same machete my son had. Somehow, The Man In Black had it and showed little hesitation in using it. I ran over, cradling my child in my arms like when he was a baby and wishing for my nightmare to end, which it never did. The Man In Black bloodied with the blood from his awful wounds, spat out one final retort which evaded my ears but sounded something like, “I finally got you.” before he passed. My attention was still on my son, huffing his final breaths. I remember pulling The Machete from his back, which I shouldn’t have done for obvious reasons, and uttering words of comfort I cannot recall yet meant nothing. His stare is as fresh as the moment my mind focused on his face then, drained and hollow with great sadness and fear. But I have dreams of that same scene, and his face wasn’t sad but blank with some hint of something else, something I couldn’t understand. Then his breath ceased.
I heard something behind me after the eternity of staring at the corpse that was my son. I turned and saw a woman, who I assume came out to see what was happening. She looked scared. I got up and walked towards her, covered in my son's blood and asking for help. However, she backed away, and as she did so, I realised how the scene looked. I tried to explain as I followed her movements, but it was getting clear she wouldn’t understand. Then The Urge took control of me, and as my son explained, it was simply an urge and nothing more. I cannot say how The Machete, which I had forgotten was still in my charge, left my hand and flew at the woman. The blade landed in her face, between her right eye and nose, about 3 inches deep. Then the realisation of what I did hit me, just like how one fights the urge to eat another sweet only to find they have eaten the whole bag, or how one tries to stay awake only to open their eyes and find out they dozed off. I was horrified; perhaps I would have been more so if my son hadn’t already told me of his curse and I hadn’t realised that I now possess it.
I slowly walked over to The Machete, which I felt connected to, dislodged it from the woman's face and examined it, as my son must have done before. I should have added this detail in my warning at the start. The Machete has something engraved on its side. I remember wiping the blood off the blade to see it, a symbol depicting a burning tower struck by lightning with a man and a woman falling out of it. At the top of it is the Roman numeral for 16. I don’t know what it means, but maybe some people reading this know.
After examining the weapon, I heard the sirens of the police not too far away. I didn’t know what to do, so please don’t judge me for what I did next: I fled the scene.
I couldn’t say how I got away. I won’t lie and say no more people died that night, but I won’t tell you how many, or more specifically, how many were killed by my hand. All I can say is I survived long enough to see the dawn. I thought the following day would be even worse, but apparently not. Yes, I was still killing every person I saw, but no one looked like the man my son slayed in that alleyway. Well, none yet.
I was able to watch the following day's news report. I was hoping something would come up about the previous evening, but by some miracle, there wasn’t any mention of gunfire or violence in the streets, there wasn’t any mention of multiple people dead or missing, nothing. There was, however, a local report of some young boys breaking into an old antique shop not too far from my wife and son’s home, stealing illegal bangers and setting them off in the streets while running amok before running away. The report must have been that long because they moved on without stating anything else. Even at the time, I thought someone, or some secret organisation, must have covered up what happened, just as my son theorised. I still hoped it would be impossible to cover up what happened that night with such a flimsy cover-up story, but no one seemed to notice. Whoever was behind covering it up has done a thorough job of it and has left no clues I could use to find out the truth. It boggled my mind because I thought people would notice me, my wife and my son go missing; they would have to. Then again, people go missing all the time.
The following week was hell. I travelled from place to place on foot, eating out of bins and sleeping in back alleys, all of which reminded me of what happened that night. Some people died, but you’d be surprised how likely it is to walk through an unpopulated part of a town without seeing anyone. In the latter half of the week, I would sense people following me from the shadows. I know they must be responsible for all of this, and why the police have not caught me. I dare not make the first move against them with The Machete because I suspect they would expect that. Ever since The Machete fell into my hands, I’ve become more and more proficient in killing and surviving. So, The Blade has turned me into a serial killer of sorts.
I won’t say how I am writing this story, only that it doesn’t matter. After everything that has happened, people must know my story, my son’s story or what little I know of it. I’m not mad, though I wish I were. I must warn people of me and whoever is chasing me. I have thought about what I should do next: I want to face my pursuers head-on, taking as many of them down as possible in one final stand and using my curse to attain vengeance. Or maybe I just want to die. But then I think about the people I saw in the news report I watched and my new killer instinct telling me to hunt them down. I don’t have long, don’t bother trying to contact me. Just remember, if you see me, **KILL ME ON SIGHT!**
​
[MM](https://www.reddit.com/r/Well_of_Misery/) | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bom9u/if_you_see_me_kill_me_on_sight/ | nosleep | The_Misery_Man |
false | My new job requires me to work from 7pm to 7am. But every midnight, my task is to hide in a special room. Part 9 | [Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16kmq86/my_new_job_requires_me_to_work_from_7pm_to_7am/)
[Part 8](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1784iki/my_new_job_requires_me_to_work_from_7pm_to_7am/)
I went back to work. I went back to that place. My kids are still in the hospital, my wife is still in distress, and I am still gangrened by the mere fact of being linked to that company. No sanctions whatsoever against me, even after abandoning my position for one good week. You know, it is as if they know that the job in itself is already a worthy punishment. I will sure get the money once again, and yes it will be useful, but the things I witnessed this week...
Before I continue with this post, I would like to thank all those who took the time to suggest ideas and tips for me to escape this mess, no matter the tone used. I also thank all those who could not provide any advice, but at least wished my family and I well. Thank you very much all of you.
On Monday, once again, but not in the same mood as the previous times, I had to wear the uniform. The gloves are still missing, but of course, this is not the most important at the moment. I do not even know what is that uniform, especially with what it displayed last time. Is it alive? Is it also an entity all by itself just like the figures on the walls of the black room? I wore the black clothes, feeling like I was wearing death, and trembling to the core. Despite me having the uniform on, my wife refused to stay alone at home and preferred to be at the hospital, where she also knows that loadshedding is not allowed.
Upon arrival at the facility, I noticed that the motorcycle guy or my new colleague, who we will call Dylan for the sake of the story, is the only person who openly shows anger concerning my return to work. Fed up with his nonsense, I confronted him about the reasons of his hatred, but everything that came out of his mouth was garbage I cannot include in this post just to avoid it being removed by you know who. Before leaving, he promised me to engineer my dismissal all by himself. I refrained to tell him that he was my guest.
For the most part of the evening, I found myself visiting the black room, building up the courage to use my flashlight in UV mode to see what could go wrong but I failed to do so before 10 pm. I then tried the UV mode outside of the black room after switching the lights off, and I was baffled by a spectacle that shocked me but at the same time did not surprise me. The patterns were there, and I could not tell if they emerged from the black room or if they instead converged towards it. Even the transparent patterns on my uniform were then shining in red when I directed the light towards me.
Those patterns were everywhere in the company, in the kitchen, in the restrooms, at the entrance, everywhere. However, there was not even one drawn figure like those in the black room, but there were more of those small black invisible doors. Behind one of them, I could hear voices, like several people calmly discussing something important, almost like a professional meeting but I could not find the courage to open that door.
Instead, I went back to the black room, and found the courage to use the UV mode there at 11:34 pm. I could see the patterns and the small black door, but the figures were not there and the monitors did not turn to tribal masks. I left the UV mode on and waited for midnight. As soon as it was 12:00 am, someone behind the invisible small door spoke. I just blinked, and the monitors changed to the tribal masks, and the figures made their appearances on the walls, floor and ceiling. I froze, expecting them to move like last time but they did not. The voice behind the small door next to the cupboard continued, repeating the same words over and over like a recording. I could only understand the first word when I approached which was 'identify'.
Was it a machine? I almost vomited my heart when the entity started banging on the black room main entrance. I deactivated the UV mode and the entity started laughing hysterically while still banging on the main entrance, promising my family and I death that nobody has experienced before. It remained there, and I also stayed still, listening to everything until it all stopped at 01:00 am.
The next day, I went to the library hoping to find anything that could help. I do not have any picture, any video or any other evidence, except for my uniform, my contract and the name of the entity. I did not know how I could explain the situation without being labeled as a crazy person so I tried asking the librarian I spoke to about any resources concerning the entity. The moment I mentioned its name, she looked at me as if I insulted her and asked me to get out. I tried to appease the situation but she screamed for the security and just like that, I was outside.
Later, fortunately, I did not see my day shift counterpart when I arrived at the facility. Soon, I found myself completely alone in the building once again and managed to ask myself some very interesting questions: who guards the place at night when I do not work on Wednesday and the Weekend? Who did in the previous week during which I did not work?
Unfortunately, when I tried to get answers to those questions through the corresponding camera recordings, I noticed that the relevant footages were missing. As a result, I went through the normal routine until I found myself facing one of the worst situations so far.
At 11:41 pm, I heard four loud bangs coming from the storage area while I was busy making coffee in the kitchen. Confident that this was not yet the time for the spooky show, I made sure to do my job correctly, finding the courage to investigate the noises. Going to the storage area with only the radio, I could not see anyone or anything suspicious. I then heard two loud bangs coming from the entrance, and I also went to verify but did not see anything until a figure emerged from behind the circular reception counter.
His identity concealed by his horrifying clown mask, the intruder soon presented his machete before he jumped over the desk to give pursuit. Chased by the intruder, I stormed towards the black room and won the race, locking the black room door before he could catch up. He banged on the door for just a few seconds before he sped off, going back to the storage area.
When I wanted to use the radio to notify the authorities, I immediately noticed the static sound. It was midnight. For the first time, the entity had started its reign of terror right in front of the black room door instead of the reception area, then it set itself in motion. The intruder was busy using his weapon to break open some of the storage units doors, oblivious to the threat coming its way.
Many people cannot help themselves, seizing any opportunity to criticize me for breaking the rules. However, I will never regret doing something wrong like breaking a 'rule' if it is for something right like saving a fellow human being's life. Breaking the no-communication rule, I used the black room microphone to tell him to run away for his life. He did not take me seriously at first until he heard something from the entity that made him flee.
From the monitors and the distortions, I could see the entity do things I never saw it do before, like disappearing and reappearing at seemingly random places. It left in its trails new images on the monitors as I could no longer recognize some parts of the building. The screen showing the entrance for example was then showing a wall. I then heard the entity using my voice and the speakers of the building to direct the intruder back to the black room. I tried to counter its trick to no avail and noticed the entity standing still behind the black room door, while the intruder was running towards a certain death.
The man turned and saw the entity on the spot. He made small steps backwards, dropping his machete before removing his mask. I saw his face dressed in terror but I did not recognize him. He then lifted his hand as if he was pointing at the entity and screamed like I never heard a man scream before. He ended up on the floor, convulsing, while the entity did not move by an inch, the monitor showing the black room door still affected by the distortion. The intruder stopped moving at some point, and the entity remained at the door, still and silent, until it quietly spoke at 12:59 am:
"You—are—next."
At 01:01 am, I exited the black room and approached the intruder. He was dead, with tears in his eyes and foam in his mouth, after overdosing on a pure and sheer concentration of a basic human emotion: fear. I was right about avoiding to take a look at that thing, and after what happened at the library, I think I was right about avoiding mentioning its name in this post or anywhere else.
Out of nowhere, my supervisor showed up minutes later, not surprised about the dead man lying on the floor and even asked me to help him with loading the body in his car. I refused to help him and he just responded by shaking his head and chuckling, before he dragged the body away to my absolute disbelief. He then came back and warned me not to do anything stupid until we have another meeting soon and left, commanding me to continue working.
Madness. Complete madness. He phoned me later, congratulating me for my 'hard work' and telling me that the company was so happy that the higher-ups had another surprise gift for me, only available when I come back to work on Thursday.
However, I think I received a surprise gift already, in the form of a direct message. There are many messages with people asking me to give them permission to narrate this series of posts on their channels. Good people, I am not ignoring you, but understand that at this moment, my family and I are going through serious and life-threatening stuff. Please let this series and all this madness be over first, then we will discuss about permission. For now, our lives are in serious danger.
The surprise gift I am talking about is the only direct message about a man named Connor who wants to meet and help me and my family. He says he has been through a similar situation and has warned me not to approach any police car during midnight, especially if the officer inside is alone. It could be the enforcer. | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bclib/my_new_job_requires_me_to_work_from_7pm_to_7am/ | nosleep | AngelmZeal1 |
false | Someone is studying my secret, by killing me over and over and over again. Part 1 | “Rise and shine, Mike.”
The mere sound of such a familiar expression, uttered by a stranger’s voice, was more than enough to jar me from my slumbers.
“No time for sleeping in,” the man continued. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us.” There was something off about his voice, as if muffled by something.
By the time I was able to clear the crust from my eyes, he had already started pacing around the room in front of me, his body hidden in shadow.
“Where am I?” I muttered, still groggy from what felt like the deepest sleep I’d ever slept. I tried to remember how I could have ended up here, but my memory seemed to escape me.
Eyes fully open now, I scanned the room to find just that. A room. Nothing more, nothing less.
“What is this place?” I asked the mysterious figure.
“Should we start from the beginning?” He continued, stepping out of the darkness and taking a seat in a metal chair that stood in the center of the room, directly under an overhead light.
He was wearing what looked like a hazmat suit, made of plastic, or rubber, with gloves, and a mask that obscured everything but his eyes. Cold, blue eyes.
“Beginning?” I replied.
“Why’d you go through with it, Mike?”
“I’m sorry? Go through with what?”
“What you did to yourself. There.” He said, pointing down to my arms.
I followed his gesture to my wrists, where I spotted two large bandages, each taped to an arm. This… I remembered.
The recollection jarred my memory back to Elise. *Elise. Where’s Elise?* I wondered.
“Tell me, Mike.”
“I… don’t know. I guess… after Elise left, I just wanted to end it all. I didn’t have the strength to start over again. I don’t know why I-”
“Hey, easy there, Mike. Easy. No need to get sentimental. It’s a time for celebration.” The man reassured me, calmly.
He pulled his metal chair closer, leaning in with an eerie smile that I couldn’t see behind the mask, but knew was lurking behind it. “You succeeded. At least at the first part.”
“But you said the first was… ending it all?” I asked.
“Correct, which you… succeeded at.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We didn’t think you would.”
“We?”
It was at that moment that my eyes went back to the room. It was just a room, yes, but there was something slightly off about it.
That’s when it hit me. The walls. The walls were lined with something. Curtains of sorts. Were they plastic? It was too dark to tell.
“Nevermind the we. You fancy yourself much of a gamer, Mike?” The man asked.
“Huh? I mean, not really? Can you just tell me what’s going on?”
“But you do know what the restart button is, right, Mike? The one on the console that lets you start the game over, from the beginning, after you die?”
“Yeah… I’m sorry, what does this have to do with anything?”
He stood up and walked over to the corner of the room, once again shrouded in shadow.
“Well, for ordinary people, Mike. When they play the game, and they die, they can’t start over. Their consoles… well, they don’t have restart buttons. They have one shot. One, sad little shot at beating the game, or whatever beating the game means to them. And when they die, it’s over. Forever. But you, Mike. You’re special. ‘Cause you get to play the game again.”
The man walked over to what I, upon squinting, realized was a large, metal door. He knocked on it four times, paused, and then a fifth.
A few moments later, the door opened. The man reached out into what appeared to be a hallway, grabbed something, and stepped back inside, the heavy door slamming behind him.
“Wait, are you saying that I tried to kill myself, and survived?” I was still trying to wrap my mind around what he was implying.
“No.” He called out. “I’m saying that you succeeded in killing yourself, and survived. And we’re here to understand how, exactly, that’s possible.”
“And how… do you plan on doing that?”
“I mean, Mike, look around you. How dull can you possibly fucking be?”
“I don’t understand.”
Stepping back into the light, he held up a large syringe, droplets falling from its needle and splashing onto the concrete floor below him.
“By killing you, Mike. Over. And over. And over again. Until we understand, how that restart button of yours works.”
I hopped up and darted for the far wall. “Can we please just talk about this!”
But before I could even attempt to talk any sense into him, he had already lunged at me, tackled me to the floor, and jammed the syringe deep into my neck.
“No!” I gasped, clutching my neck, as he withdrew the needle.
I lay there, writhing in pain, foam pouring from my mouth, as I saw his boots slowly step away.
And then… darkness.
—
“Rise and shine, Mike.”
Part 2 Coming Soon | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bkn4r/someone_is_studying_my_secret_by_killing_me_over/ | nosleep | sleuths82 |
false | Being an Exterminator Isn’t Like I Thought it Would Be | A few years ago, I wrote about my experiences working overnight at Lowe’s and the downright insanity that I had gone through. I was pretty surprised that so many people actually liked it, so much so that a pretty popular Youtuber wanted to read it for his channel. It’s now one of his top five videos and I am honored by the popularity of it. Hell, I’m not even mad that the vast majority of listeners don’t believe the story. It was crazier than Britney Spears and more unbelievable than Pizza Gate. If you want to check it out, you can find it [here](https://youtu.be/FdqOE3Dtjys?si=DBFz2FMk38jJ1zQ4).
So, why am I writing again after all this time? Isn’t the story over? Fuck, I wish. Apparently, when you look into the void, the void notices, or something along those lines. All I know is that ever since Lowe’s, my life really hasn’t been the same. Sure, I had a year or two of relative peace. My compensation for saving the world set me and mine up for a good while. I went on a long vacation, paid off all my bills, built a perfect “off the grid” home away from people, outside my family of course, and big cities. I’ve come to understand that i need at least an acre of land between me and my closet neighbor for me to feel at ease and able to stretch my arms. I always hated living in cities anyways, too many people, too close together, no room to breathe, everything smells funny, you guys get it.
"But, Trent, don’t you get bored? Don't you want things to do?”
I have plenty of things to do around the homestead, and not dealing with asshole city people is my number one priority.
With that said, I won’t lie that I got bored after two years. Yes, I did experience some weird things every now and then during this time. A few shadow people, things getting moved, a sasquatch living in my woods (mating season really sucks, by the way), but fortunately nothing compared to Lowe’s, that experience kind of Overton Windowed me on how I look at things. Funny enough though, my wife and kids never seem to really notice the weird goings on around the house. They just think they’re forgetting things or there’s some animal dying in the woods every rutting season. That’s fine with me, less things to explain.
So, back to the point. Why am I writing again? Well, like I said above, I got bored and decided to get a job, just a part time one, not like I need the money or anything, I just wanted to stay busy. See, unlike our politicians, I have a work ethic, hell, I actually have ethics, so a friend of mine that runs an Extermination business in the town close by, said he needed some help because he was running low on Exterminators, just like every other business running low on workers, and asked if I could work a few days out of the week to give him a hand. He knew that my dad was an Exterminator and knew that I did have a little bit of experience at it, so of course he came to me, and with me being bored out of my mind with the routine of homesteading, I of course, said yes.
It started out fine, for the first month, everything was pretty basic. Treat for crawling insects, treat for stinging insects, treat for German and oriental cockroaches, take care of hornet and yellow jacket nests, lay out bait stations for mice and rats, you know, the basics.
I enjoyed the job, I really did. I delt with people that were actually happy to see me, and I helped people with their problems. Yes, their problems were usually nothing more than them fearing house centipedes or a rambunctious mouse in their attic, but I wanted to give them some peace of mind, and for the most part, I did.
Then came the day that things started to change. The day I went to that damned, abandoned house.
Now, try to understand, before a house is destroyed it must be prepped with some bait and spray to kill the mice, or rats or roaches or whatever might be living there because the city, or the company, that’s demolishing the building doesn't want the pests to flee and infest nearby homes or businesses around the now ex-building.
As I pulled up to the crumbling, two-story building, I could feel the hair on the back of my neck rise. As I stepped out and looked over the old house, I could feel right away something wasn’t right about it.
I didn’t know what it was, but once you’re touched by the other side you get a sense for these kinds of things, like a mother knowing when their kid is lying to them. My mother was always keenly aware of my lies, the worse part was, when she would inevitably call me out on my lie, she would proceed to commit phycological torture on me and make me walk down my hill to my Grandpa’s yard to pick a switch of his apple tree, with her saying, “pick a good one or I will go get one myself”, and I knew for a fact that her's wouldn’t be a switch and a full blown branch. Now, keep in mind it wasn’t a long walk, not even close, you could get there and back in under five minutes, I, though, would stretch that short walk out to easily an hour, hoping and praying that she would forget why she was ever angry. It never fucking worked, and I would always end up with a stinging ass. Please, understand, I grew up in a different area then most those that might be reading this, back when your seatbelts were your parent’s arms, the bed of a truck was just extra seating and whipping your kids’ ass wasn’t looked down upon, it was expected, and my mother loved using that form of punishment.
Now, before anyone gets their short and curlys in knots and scream, “that’s child abuse!” or “What an awful woman!” I want you to get through that skull of yours that my mother was a Goddamned saint. I, on the other hand, was a right bastard, she was a divorced mother, raising two kids and doing the best that she could, so chill out before you flip. Fuck, if anything I believe we should bring back some capital punishment. Kids these days seem to need to have some old fashion ass beatings. I think it would fix a lot of the issues we have today, or at least fix them for tomorrow.
Sorry, I kinda went on a tangent there, back to what I was talking about, this house I was standing before was giving off some truly bad mojo that I did not like at all. Let’s just say that I would not shake this poor sinner’s hand, if you get my drift, but I had a job to do and with these feelings I was having, I might be the best one to do it. Some other exterminator would just walk blindly in and not be anywhere close to being aware of any possible danger except for maybe falling through a rotting floor. I, at least, knew there might be danger and, as assistant greenskeeper Carl Spackler once wisely said, “I have that goin’ for me, which is nice”.
I went to the back of my truck and grabbed up my bucket of Contact bait and my B&G and headed in. I knew I would have to go around back to get in, the front door was blocked with a large panel of plywood, but the back door was wide open according to the note in my phone. This, though, wasn’t going as easy as it sounded. The yard looked as though it hadn’t been attended to since the Reagon Administration and now the Amazon was growing next to it (The jungle, not the warehouse for the younger readers). I was eventually able to poke my way through the wild bush and get to the back deck. The corner of the house had collapsed in, and the basement was exposed to the elements. Foul air rose out from that hole; rot, decay, mold, the typical smells, but hidden among the normal scents of abandonments was something else, something I smelt before but just couldn’t place my finger on it.
Anyway, I walked around the breach and into the decaying wood of the old deck. It was a lot more stable than I had thought due to the way it looked. I stepped up to the back door and looked in. If the hairs on my neck could detach and crawl away, they would leave me far behind right at that moment. Past the doorway everything was hard to see, it was almost as if light itself wanted to avoid this place. I reached up and flicked on my headlamp to see if that might help any. It didn’t. Even with my headlamp on the interior of the house still looked darker than it should have been.
“That’s always a good sign.” I said aloud, with such sarcasm, Italians could dip bread into it.
I stepped into the house and proceeded to treat the house. It was a disaster, as to be excepted. Rubish was thrown about everywhere, some caught me off guard, like a box of old water damaged VHS tapes (I think I saw a Blockbuster sticker on a few of them). Some made me sad, like the little pile of children's clothes and toys in a corner of the living room. Some just freaked me out, like a decomposing possum that lay in the lap of an old, corroding doll whose arms were wrapped around its neck in a tight embrace, all while sitting in the middle of an empty bedroom.
Yeah, I avoided that room. I just tossed in a block of Contact bait and moved on.
Once I treated and baited the house, I had to do the last area. The place I was really kind of avoiding. The basement. This, I wasn’t looking forward to. The rest of the house gave off a creepy vibe, but the basement, shit, the basement just felt wrong.
I stood at the top of the stairs looking down into the semi-darkness. Light from the fallen corner was streaming in. I took a deep breath, choked a bit on the fetid and proceeded to walk down the stairs. I stopped at the bottom and looked around. There was junk everywhere, all of it slowly rotting away. I started tossing blocks about, not really wanting to leave the stair area, because I could feel something watching me, it radiated hatred stronger than the Democratic Party does for Trump.
I turned to toss a block down to the dark back of the basement when I came to a fast stop. In the darkness I could make out an even darker shape. A silhouette of a man standing in an open door that I honestly didn’t see before. The worst thing was, I could see the thing’s eyes.
No, they weren’t glowing. I always hated stories where some monster’s eyes glow in the dark. It's so stupid and impractical if you really think about it. Not really a good predator if your glowing eyes give away your location, is it? Also, if its eyes glowed then how in the hell could it see? I mean, the only thing its optic nerve would be picking up is the light that its eyes would be giving off. Glowing eyes pretty much means it's blind.
What I saw wasn't glowing eyes, but eyeshine, pale, blue, cold and full of hate. Think Riddick from the movies but more pissed off, that was what I was seeing, and it nearly made me pissed myself.
I took a single step back up the stairs and the eyeshine shadow launched itself at me, knocking the junk around the floor up and away from itself as it flew straight at me. I ran up those stairs so fast, Usain Bolt would have been jealous. I scooped up my B&G, which I had left in the kitchen, and scrambled out the door into the warm, welcoming sun. I ran to the edge of the deck and turned around to glance to see if it was still coming after me. I stopped moving as goose bumps ran over my body. From the basement doorway I could see half of a dark, emaciated face and a bone thin hand holding the doorframe. That cold, hateful eyeshine eye stared longingly at me. Then, with a blink, it was gone.
Shaking from the adrenaline rush of such a fright, I got myself together and went back to my truck. I placed all my stuff back in its proper place and went to get into the driver’s seat. I turned back to the loathsome house one last time and in a window, among the sun-rotten curtains, I saw a little, pale girl holding the doll that had held the possum.
I spat out a sour taste that had come to my mouth.
“Fuck this house,” I said as breath finally left my lungs. I climbed into my truck and drove off. I ended up doing my report farther down the road, away from that place. I didn’t add anything that really happened to my notes, it’s not like anyone would believe me, so way bother. I did put in the notes that the house was in extremely bad condition, and I advised no one to enter it. I’m not sure if it did any good, but the sooner they tear down that place the better.
Well, that’s it for me today. I’ll post again if anything weird happens again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bgo3d/being_an_exterminator_isnt_like_i_thought_it/ | nosleep | krayhayft |
false | The Makran Coast reminded me of a Crime I do not wish to remember. Part 1 | The culmination of my most profound experience took place in a town called Jiwani next to Gwadar Bay, on the Makran coast of the Arabian sea, 35km eastern to the Iranian border. Its dessert core encapsulated tall cliffs, capped with the prestige of limestone in an east-west direction. Mangrove swamps intersected forests to the south, and flat barren land ran to the north; merging with a steep clay hill, which carried me to the town with a reluctant push from dust and wind. A long sea front provided a splendid backdrop from my hut. There, I rejoiced in the breathtaking Makran sunset.
A cataclysmic remnant of an asteroid strike ended the reign of the dinosaur 66 million years ago, it blasted 300 billion tonnes of sulphur into the atmosphere, merging with ash and dust to form an expansive grey cloud. It embraced the entire planet and blocked out the sunlight, orchestrating the destruction of all life forms. The sky would eventually clear many years later, and there is no doubt in my mind that it was in Makran, that the sun shined as though it was the very first time, giving hope to humanity with its many vibrant shades.
As the sun dropped into the front window of my hut, it modified from yellow to orange, then speckled with red like a Cranberry and finally a decisive purple would flicker on my face. Signalling the inception of a soothing ballad to my ears, as the muezzin would make his call for the dusk prayer, reaching the shore of Jiwani beach and perhaps beyond.
This is how I’d start a typical travel blog, with details of my fondest memory rushing to the tips of my fingers. It is how I had hoped to recall my time on the Makran coast.
This is no ordinary post, and it is unpleasing for me to share this entry with what I would wish was just a nightmare.
Until my extended leave of absence, I worked as a professor in the subject of aeronautics at the University of Birmingham. I was fortunate to lease a cosy little detached property in the centre of Edgbaston, with my wife Melody at the time. She died you see, in a horrible accident, and that’s when it began. My dependence that is, on Z-eplon, to help with my sleep. I went to therapy to talk about it, and I don’t think it helped much. I battled with my grief like we all do, and I couldn’t quiet accept my ill treatment, in the weeks leading up to her death.
I was given a prescription for Z-eplon, it was probably a good thing for limited use. I ended up taking more than necessary and often had a short supply. Lucky for me, my neighbour Harold and a wretched ‘friend’, who was a pharmacist by profession, being understanding of my ordeal, slipped a blister pack from time to time through my letterbox. He wasn’t everyone's cup of tea and I understand why now. I had felt he meant well deep down, living next to the devil all these years.
‘Abdus, I think you should take a break away from this place. You may sleep better surely. Go play a foolish game or go on an adventure,’ Harold said, during an impromptu afternoon tea at the hospitable patio of my garden, after his head peered over the fence in an odd way and willed me.
‘Yes, it has been on my mind. When the prolonged mourning ceremonies had completed, my distant cousin advised as such. Said he had been to the Makran coast with friends and failed to describe the infamous sunset because it had to be experienced.’
‘Oh, Abdus,’ Harold said putting down his teacup, ‘if you are going there, be sure to stop at the Hingol National Park along the coast, I’ve been informed of unique rock formations. It would be good to know if it’s worth a visit.’
It wasn’t at all surprising that he said this, considering his interest in archaeology. He had his own blog about numerous artefacts which struggled to pique my fancy, although I am a curious fellow.
‘Indeed, it will most certainly be taken into consideration. If you would be kind to give me any details on the locality, that would be a help,’ I said.
‘As a matter of fact, I can do more than that. I have an old acquaintance by the name of Gopal who lives within a canyon in the park, we write to each other once a month. He keeps guard of a shrine encasing a severed hand.’
‘That’s a bit strange is it not?’
‘Are you not aware of the folk tale? I have it in my blog Abdus.’ Harold said, with a slight hint of arrogance.
I sniffed at the idea of someone spending their spare time on a blog concerning useless fiction. However, I allowed him to oblige me.
‘I may have read a passage from the titular subject matter, but I can’t seem to recollect it,’ I said politely.
‘Allow me to reverse your ignorance. In the early 700’s, the Sultan Ibn-Wahab of the Al-Najdi dynasty, commanded an army for a large-scale invasion of Makran. Some years later the Arabs ruled the region known today as Gwadar, they were met with fierce resistance along the coast, nevertheless, majority of the towns ended up signing peace treaties begrudgingly. The new inhabitants found adjustment on the coast difficult. The heat was punishing, water was scanty, fruits unsavoury and the desert was an infinite pavement of rock and pebble. When half the army had depleted, forces from the town of Pasni took back control and captured the Sultan Ibn-Wahab, who was eventually buried with his body cut in 7 parts. His left hand was kept as a reminder to repel wishful invaders.’
I went silent for a few moments and had a drink of water.
‘Well, that’s something. You paint a vivid picture my friend. Why does this strike your nerve? it is bleak,’ I said quietly.
‘There are many who consider the Sultan Ibn-Wahab and his devotees to be the original and purest occupants of Gwadar, this group call themselves the Salaf. It is their belief that the hand can open a gateway for the dead.’ Harold winked at me arrogantly.
‘I beg your pardon, Harold.’
‘You heard me old man. Gopal has told me all about it, the hand under certain conditions, can enable the rising of the dead.’
‘All right, now that you have bought something like this up again, I care not for such fantasies. Being in my profession, I cannot afford to be the authority on these peculiar beliefs. For I have rarely failed to conceal my views on the matter,’ I said, raising the acoustics of my voice.
‘I will not convict you for that,’ Harold said.
‘Any approximation to the mere thought that humours the existence of such things, is a revocation of all that I hold sacred. I am afraid I have lost you, I should not go further, my point is made.’
‘Not at all, not at all,’ Harold said quickly. ‘Back on the matter at hand, if a potential trip is of interest, I can make your acquaintance with Gopal.’
‘Yes, the mysterious retreat is intriguing.’ I presumed I was giving into my heart’s desire, and with all honesty, since Melody parted, being a recluse frightened me.
‘Through my exchanges with Gopal, I am aware of a hut, which neighbours the shrine on the outskirts of Jiwani. Very domesticated for tourists of our stature, and there are two beds to, room is aplenty!’
‘I suppose the space ought to be used or it could get rather lonely,’ I said.
‘I’ve longed to visit myself, I could most certainly fill that void, Abdus.’
I shuddered and laughed a little nervously.
‘By all accounts, that would be a delight, Harold. Unfortunately, my growing introversion would be a nuisance for you, you may not like the quiet when out and about, would you?’
‘No, good gracious!’ Harold spouted.
‘I’m afraid when my blog note taking ends, I may wonder without excursion, it would be rather simple.’
‘Oh, we don’t know that for certain! Besides, my own writings are long overdue.’
It was always my intention to be politely truthful in such tangles. But it is my fear that Harold took advantage of such knowledge.
‘Well, in all honesty, Harold, it sounds like the accommodation may not be sufficient for the both of us. It may also be possible that my need for solitude could be disturbed.’
Harold laughed maniacally.
‘You are good Abdus. Don’t you concern yourself, this er solitude will not be disturbed, you can bet on it. May I propose to join you after a fortnight?’
‘This is agreeable, Harold.’ My cheeks turned red. It was a suitable compromise, and in any case, I thought it couldn’t hurt to have well informed company in alien territory.
After that slightly awkward encounter with rude Harold, I wanted to visit Melody. Despite my rigid beliefs, I sort of considered it to be auspicious, prior to any lengthy trip, perhaps not lengthy all the time, or at least to my expectation.
And so, I acquired the black magic variant of Melody’s favourite rose and scented it with one of her fruity pocket perfume sprays, though it may be odd, I’m going to miss the profound smell off apples when she looked her best around me. I rested the bouquet at the root of her gravestone and retired to my vacant quarters.
\*
It wasn’t long after my acquaintance was made with Gopal, that I soon found myself sat next to an associate of his in a rugged Jeep, who went by the name of Rehman. We were on our way towards the border of the Balochistan province, 25km west of Karachi. My father was fluent in Urdu and Arabic, though he did little to converse with me in either language, aside the derogatory insults. It only pushed me further towards the ways of an English gentleman. Though Harold was a rude fellow, I was able to much appreciate the honourable native quality in him. There was however, some common verbiage, which I had learned and enabled me to make small talk.
‘Asalam-laykum, you must be Rehman, English?’
‘Walaikum-salam, yes.’ Rehman replied bluntly.
‘Wonderful! It is my hope all is in order, how is Gopal?’
‘Good.’
I couldn’t tell if it was his uninterest, annoyance or lack of fluency in the trade language, or perhaps something else altogether. I wasn’t able to make out his expression for clues, his face was covered by a middle eastern styled Litham he wore, like the one from Lawrence of Arabiya. His wrinkled skin was a gritty olive, toughened evidently by dust storms. And the panther like stare was most poignant.
He handed me a bottle of water to which I said ‘shukriya’, and then kept a dubious silence. It was broken when we encountered members of the border patrol, they held the notorious AK-47s in their hands and approached our Jeep.
‘Calm, please give passport.’ Rehman asked me promptly.
Though I was nervous at the sight of masked men armed with violence, Rehman’s demeanour and words, or should I say ‘word’ comforted me. After one of the patrol members took a quick glance at my paperwork, he exchanged an experienced nod with Rehman, and we were on our way towards the Makran Cost.
‘For long long time, Makran – no one coming, they can’t come here. You people can’t, I can’t, nobody can. There was a movement here and Militant everywhere, Balouch people want their own country. But now, but now, Army control Balochistan you know. We safe.’
‘That’s most pleasing, it will surely not diminish the pleasure of my visit.’ I chuckled. Rehman remained still and we continued on our merry way along the national highway, informally known as the Makran Coastal Highway. We skirted the Arabian sea, my eyes glistened with sapphire and crystal, between the specks which expanded into fishing boats.
Rehman seemingly more confident in his speech, spoke of the reliance on eel, carb, lobster and sardine, the bedrock of the Makran economy since the inception of the coast. ‘Makran’ itself derived from the Persian description for ‘fish eateries.’ Besides the marvellous fish, ship breaking was another common industry practice. I was warned of the practice of smuggling to.
A strong gust helped pull our vehicle’s all-wheel drive against the asphalt road’s increasing elevation.
‘It bumpy ride for you.’ Rehman said with something which sounded like a muffled laugh as he swinged the steering wheel harshly around a U-shaped bend.
‘Er yes--’
‘This nothing! Alexander the Great walk here in his chapal, his army struggle on horseback, too too hot and no road like this, some manage to cross Makran into Babylon; we call Iraq now, but most die.’ It was clear he said this with a smile concealed under the discoloured fabric of his mouth veil.
‘Allegedly, indeed. In any case, I am enjoying the splendid scenery,’ I said, to which Rehman may have scoffed at and pushed harder at the throttle, as he hastened to beat the sunset for my pleasure.
In my light readings of the subject province prior to my departure, I found it rather compelling that it was the largest in the region, although the least populated. This point was half confirmed as we journeyed along the coast, there were occasional flashes of life. A farmer commanding a herd of cattle on their way to some obscure market in these parts, an ancient sedan parked at the foot of the shore with its bonnet occupied by a pair of gentleman, children playing cricket on an impromptu pitch and the pretentious rainbow trucks which would pass, jingling at the front and rear; I had presumed the intention behind the trinkets was to erect ones attention.
‘Truck make big noise yes? Driver think it keep him safe and stop nazar, he use black cloth to.’
Thanks to colonialism, it may be futile to highlight what nazar meant, even so, may I remind you it is the evil eye. I thought better than to entertain such absurdity or engage Rehman on the topic, though his feelings were not clear to me.
Light was starting to fade and the Hut was within reach, I no longer saw man or animal, nor the faint clanging of chains in the distance from the truck's bumpers which passed before. I had a thought in this moment, while such barren land ought to be sparsely populated, the province was no longer off limits. Yet I could swear to you, it was my feeling that no soul with knowledge came here by choice. Why did those in the know, want to feed a land which had already starved to death?
My excitement had not completely subsided, still, a baffling apprehension crept up my spinal cord and into my brain.
\*
The hut was like a blip in a vacuum, the sea front was within sight from the balcony however, and a thin breeze permitted Rehman to pour me tea. I gave ‘shukriya’ once more. Nothing had to be said as we watched the Makran sunset, I hoped I lived to see it another day.
Such wonders were to be shared with those you love, I had the poor excuse of my wife’s death, but I had family. Nevertheless, it was my decision to become distant. Harold was very supportive in this regard. I couldn’t be seen with my growing depression, and there was simply no argument as I failed to escape subordination to Z-eplon; my hands trembled with the notion. I recalled my final dose had been taken before the outset of my travel.
Rehman skipped down the front steps of the bungalow and bid me farewell, not before noting I had all to be desired and that Gopal would meet me the next evening at my new residence. We said our goodbyes in the interim and I turned to the front double door, opened at an inviting angle.
I wasn’t entirely expecting Buckingham Palace, I had squashed Harold’s attempts to harness my preconceived ideas. My initial viewing was intensive, there was a dining room which was sandwiched in the middle of an ensuite bedroom and a sitting room, the interior walls were thick and there was decent capacity for my lungs. Indeed, Harold was true to his words, a second bed seemed to fit seamlessly.
A ‘Sajji’ dish had been prepared for me prior to my arrival, the pieces of rare roasted lamb melted my soul, it had been cooked around a fire for some hours, I wondered there must be something in the air here, for I have been unable to unlock the complete powers of salt and pepper. After I had finished the best meal I had in months, I retired to the lounge, lighting the candles in the four corners and taking out my pipe. After enveloping my mouth with smoke, I inhaled gently, and was soon much calmer. It had been so warm and sticky, that inside, it took my brain a little while to soak up how chilly it was. And so, I prepared the fireplace with fresh olive wood which had been provided for my convenience. The springs in my back lost their elasticity against the sofa’s cushion and I watched the flames; dancing mockingly. The heat moved my gaze towards a vintage mid-century corner table, a book lay above it, wiping away a foam of dust from the front cover, it read ‘Poems by A. Iqbal’. I restored my compatibility with the sofa and opened to the bookmarked page with the puff of my pipe.
Title: Devotion and Death
He was going towards the Paradise for a stroll.
He met death on its way by destiny’s roll.
He asked death, “What is the name and work of yours
I do not want to encounter the face of yours”
Hearing this said the angel of death
“My work is clear, I am the angel of death
I shatter the chattels of existence
I extinguish the spark of life.
The magic of annihilation is in my eyes.
The message of destruction is its symbol.”
A little bleak to my usual readings. I shuddered to a pleasant snooze.
It was a quarter to three in the morning when an icy trace of air hit my face, it slithered down my neck and up my open castle of sensitivity in a stealthy way. The fire was out, a dim illumination came from one of the candles next to the corner table, its flame flickered like a warrior’s last stand after his brothers in arms had been defeated. There was a small window on the wall behind the sofa, upon my inspection, I found that it was open, just a crack. I didn’t seem to recall it being that way. I convicted an enthusiastic gust for my troubles and was heading towards the bedroom, and that was when the disturbance came.
There was a muffled, barely audible sound from somewhere to the hut’s front. To my understanding in that moment, pebbles may have been uplifted by the wind or maybe it was trinkets from a rainbow truck in the distance. Then it grew louder.
I walked unsteady to the dining room which attached to the narrow hallway, it appeared my faculties were in good order, as it came from the entrance double doors. Something was thumping the door and it no longer sounded like pebbles or trinkets.
The thumping was deliberate and rhythmic: thump-thump-thump. It wasn’t exactly knuckles to the wooden frame, the closest comparison would be the sound you make when you’re stomping your feet in disgust, except the power of trickery assisting you.
I thought maybe it was Harold, who may have travelled right after me, to play such a foolish prank. I felt it had to be a stretch even for someone of his standing. To test my theory, I decided to pull the curtains from the window across the dining, thump-thump-thump, in one fluid motion I peeked my head through the gap I had created and saw nothing, it was just the wind whistling as though it knew me within the bones.
As I turned around on dodgy footing, it started again, thump-thump-thump, a menacing sound ringed in my ears and I was unable to ignore it. The thumping soon had turned into muffled words, I was unable to confirm if the voice belonged to man, woman or something else entirely. I am not frightened so easily yet I was moved by the familiar tone it made.
When Melody passed, she was asphyxiating, in-between her gasps for air she was trying to say something which came out as fragmented gabbling; she knew the words could no longer be fixed. And it occurred to me that the voice which came from the other side of the double door, was gabbling, just like my wife did.
The memory of a cherished one’s terminal breath can have a profound impact, it never left me and so I had to force it out of the deep confines of my soul before the full moon. In doing this I was able to convince my brain of the senseless fallacy which came in the dark of night. And with the power of this thought, the gabbling melted away, and I resigned to my interrupted sleep.
\*
No words were to be said of the Makran sunset. As for the sunrise, even to the shuttered faculty, the warmth of sweet potato settled within my eyelids and blazed me with the wonderment of a dream I wished to remember when the reality of morning had come.
I made myself fresh with the releasement of acid and put the kettle on, there was an indescribable, truly British serenity in performing this early routine. It would be no different to any other day, except I had my tea before the cooling current of air which allured me from the seafront.
I planned to make some general notes regarding my travels, continued my long overdue readings and I considered inspecting the pantry, anticipating hunger. I didn’t quiet recall if Rehman had mentioned when I was to be acquainted with Gopal, although I assumed it would be during sociable hours.
The pantry was in the cellar and acted as the cold storage in the desert climate, I gained access by pulling on the handle of a trap door in the front hallway and saw a narrow stairwell. The rugged concrete walls looked and felt awful, each step I took on mud and stone, echoed in the claustrophobic bridge to the unknown. I paused on every fifth step to confirm the pounding of my own feet alone. I quickened my pace, made it to the landing and turned the key which expected me, the heavy steel of the door was being stubborn and so, a little force needed to be applied and I fell inside. A whiff off a potent stench hit me immediately, I contemplated surveying the source, but I was in complete blackness and the foul odour seemed to grow in strength with my attempts to continue deeper in the miserable pit, perhaps rising damp or mouldy fruit. I had to turn around and to my delight, saw a chest refrigerator next to the door’s frame, light glimmered from above the stairs, or else it would be easy to evade. I found a range of steaks, picked up a sirloin cut and made haste up the stairwell, not knowing why.
Teas and pastries extended my pang free gut into the afternoon. An inkling forced me to save my steak for dinner, anticipating the absence of my host. And when the virgin evening came along with a simmering rumble in my gut, I cooked to the point of medium rare and set the dining room table; candle lit in the centre, steak knife to the left of my plate and the fork to my right, that may well be the breaking of etiquette, but it must be said that my left hand is reserved for filthy jobs like wiping the buttocks. A retched thought to convey with mouthful delicacies. Anyhow, my knife cut through like it would butter, and I sliced a piece of the block in half by biting into the red, guzzled with my tongue whipping from side to side and swallowed as I felt my food pipe shrink. I wouldn’t typically pay attention to such detail, perhaps it was being alone, though not uncommon in the prior weeks to my trip, something in my brain clicked to make it more engaged a long way from home.
I accepted that my hosts were delayed due to some emergency and removed the feeling of expectation. I was able to retire to the sitting room for my leisure and watched the flames burn the disappointments from the day.
Subsequently I fell into a lazy nap, the sort which I required in the moment, although my rather engaged brain, made a half attempt to keep me awake. It made me recall the night Melody left me. I tossed and turned in bed, as though I was trying to create a centrifugal force to trick me to sleep. My mind refused to accept the invitation of my intent, it knew something awful had happened. My hands trembled, like they do now, and it wasn’t due to my dependency. I got out of bed with a tension in my throat, as I walked unconsciously to our memorable lounge, something tightened the grip on my windpipe. There, I saw her, still as a block of ice and pale, oh so pale outside a couple of patches on her neck. Her eyes were widened to a terrifying length.
As I fought for sleep to come, it was sort of like the night I found Melody. The occurrence of suffering or the inevitability of death has a way of communicating with you through the universe, when the pain is too unbearable, and a desperate call is made for help or to say goodbye.
Thump-thump-thump. My heart jump-started and I found myself on the floor. I tried to settle myself thinking I heard it in an unpleasant dream but.....Thump-thump-thump.
The bells of my ears were ringing with an eerie enthusiasm, and my throat was being squeezed with spite. I got to my feet and walked reluctantly towards the front hallway, THUMP-THUMP-THUMP....I felt like my heart was going to explode as the horrid sound amplified, I was standing at the foot of the trap door. Suddenly, the thumping came to a piercing halt, and I started to hear heavy stomping footsteps from the cellar, something wet and meaty was running up and down the stairwell furiously quick.
It went back and forth on loop for a few minutes, before I heard an echo of it throwing itself against the steel door at the bottom of the cellar. Indecision caused piggish sweat to leak out the pores of my skin. I was trembling as I reached for the handle of the trap door, dread had come upon me.
I went down the pit and heard it again, it was gabbling sporadically. Halfway down, I could see the door open, just a split. That foul smell attacked me again and kept getting stronger. I pushed against the door and it creaked louder than I seemed to recall previously. Without much thought I yelled nervously, “WHO..uhh..who’s THERE?!”
The gabbling had come to a complete stop and there was a silence again which disturbed me more than any sounds it had made before. Barring a speckle of light which struggled to travel down to the cellar, I stood in a well of misery. At this point I should have retreated, even so, something compelled me to stay, because then......
“Abdusabdusabdusabdus.”
It gabbled my name with the same tone, it wasn’t in synch with its mouth if it even had one.
“Ohmyohmyyohmyyyabdusabdusabdusabdus.” I saw a silhouette seated in a rocking chair which swinged unnaturally. The outline was terrifyingly identifiable, yet I couldn’t place it. It oozed in the stench of spoiled apples and the flavour of death was in my mouth.
“Myabdusabdusabdus did you miss me miss me miss me?” it said and I began to feel sickly.
“Are you sorry abdusabdusabdus ohmyohmyohmyabdusabdusabdus, your wifey thinks you are, she’s right here.”
My testicles shrivelled and my legs were shaking. It sounded like my wife but not quite like her entirely; the way you put your head through a cardboard cut-out of some amusing beast at the funfair, it’s you, but not exactly.
“Myabdusabdus come closer dear, wifey’s back now, wifey’s so sad, so so sad at you...”
I didn’t realise how the gap had closed between me and that chair which squeaked horridly.
“I’m.....I’m sorry, I can’t.....I’m sorry for what happened,” I said to it, taking a few steps backwards slowly.
“Oh abdusabdusabdus, why don’t you come here dear and give wifey a hug now?” it said, “Or she will make sure you’re SO SO SORRY.” Its voice became deeper, and the gabbling had a sinister tone to it.
“My wife’s not here, I’m in no man's land and she has been dead for months, you’re not Melody.”
“I WON’T FORGIVE WON’T FORIVE YOU WE WON’T FORGIVE!” it screamed violently, as the malevolent figure snapped its neck in a nasty way.
I ran up the stairwell like a wounded animal which was being hunted and slammed the trap door shut. I got up in a fit and dashed for the bedroom as the candles in the sitting room went out past me and the wood no longer burned; it wanted me to know it was right behind me, but I refused to look back, stripped to my briefs and pulled the duvet over my face, like it was a shield against whatever it was that haunted me. | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bo0yn/the_makran_coast_reminded_me_of_a_crime_i_do_not/ | nosleep | Horror_Sh47 |
false | Why is he following me? |
I’ve lived in this hovel of an apartment for three weeks now and that’s enough to scare me out of here. Why you may ask? Well it all started the very first night here.
I brought my suitcase holding a very sparse amount of clothing because the looks of the apartment scared me enough so I planned for it to just be a temporary home. The receptionist was kind enough and gave me a keycard to room 22 on floor 3. The place screamed unprofessional so I didn’t expect much. I pressed floor 3 on the elevator and that’s where the nightmare began.
I spent the rest of my day lounging in my room on my phone. My fingers ached from scrolling on TikTok by the time there was a knock on my door at maybe 8:00. I stood up tiredly and pulled open the door to a man. His silver eyes had heavy bags under them and twitched every few seconds. He wore clothes imbedded in dirt and slouched as he stared at me. His receding hairline spoke for itself. He looked like he was maybe in his 30’s. I looked at his chest for maybe a name tag of sorts in case he was an employee. He held my gaze for a good minute before I spoke up “Hello?” I muttered staring at his blank expression. “Hello?” I say more roughly but the man just stared. I blinked and the man was just gone like that. I bit my lip unsure what to think. Maybe I was imagining things, maybe I needed my daily coffee. Whatever it was I decided to let it go and went to lay on my bed. But that wasn’t the last I was seeing of him.
I fell asleep at maybe 9:00 and woke up at 6:00 to a loud banging on my window. I was sure it was going to shatter into millions but it didn’t. It held its place until the banging stopped. I don’t know what I was thinking not to get up and look at it. But that entire time I just laid in the bed my eyes winced as the sounds shot through the air. I was tired and needed my coffee. I headed down to the breakfast buffet, if you’d even call it that, the options weren’t very… Plenty. I grabbed the thing that looked the most like breakfast food, a turkey sandwich with a butt load of mayonnaise and an odd side of, ketchup? Yep that’s right ‘the most breakfast food’. The other options were French fries just French fries and a burger. No coffee not even tea. God I was bound to go crazy in here.
I sat down at a table full of crumbs and sighed placing my plate down. I began eating when the same man from earlier sat down in the seat next to me. His breath was on my neck, he was close, too close. I scooted away and said, “Sir, I’m sitting here. You’ll have to find another seat.” The man said nothing and scooted closer. “Sir!” I almost yelled out, I had a very serious thing about personal space. I got pissed off with the man’s antics and stood up with my plate to sit somewhere else. The man followed. I got a new seat he followed. I growled standing up and leaving the buffet. The man continued behind me like a ghost. I got onto the elevator and he followed. I started to run down the hallway to my room. I unlocked the door the man an inch behind me, his breath on my shoulder. I slammed the door in his face and laid down onto my bed. Loud banging sounded on my door he just wouldn’t get a hint, would he? The same schedule continued for two days. Why was he following me everywhere I went? I got tired of this and just accepted I had a shadow. I went to the store, he came with. I went to the laundromat, he followed.
As I sit here writing this on my bed I’m wondering if I should post this. One second, I just got a notification. I just opened it. It says, room 22 on floor 3 is now following you on instagram. Why is he following me? I’m so sorry this was short I just need people to understand this situation I’m in….
….
He’s outside my door now
Oh god, he has a knife… | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bmyta/why_is_he_following_me/ | nosleep | Independent_Bug_7431 |
false | The Haunting of Blackwood Manor | I still can't shake the feeling of terror that washed over me that fateful night at Blackwood Manor. It was an experience that changed my life forever, a night filled with horrors beyond the scope of rational explanation. I feel compelled to share this story, not only to unburden my own conscience but to warn others who might be drawn to the dark secrets of that accursed place.
The ominous tale began with an invitation. I had received a letter from an old friend, Samuel Blackwood, who had recently come into possession of Blackwood Manor, a sprawling, decaying mansion nestled on the outskirts of a forgotten, fog-shrouded village in the English countryside. Samuel had always been an eccentric, adventurous soul, but I had lost touch with him over the years, so receiving his letter was unexpected. In his invitation, he implored me to join him at the manor for a weekend of exploration and reminiscence.
Despite a twinge of unease about the vague nature of the invitation, I found myself compelled to accept. The prospect of seeing Samuel again, and the intrigue of Blackwood Manor, was irresistible. With a heavy bag in tow, I set out for the village, with the sun setting in the distance, casting an eerie orange glow over the dark, looming silhouette of the manor.
When I arrived, the village seemed to have been suspended in time, as if history had forsaken it. A cobbled street wound its way towards the manor, its houses covered in ivy, windows long shattered, and doors permanently shut. An overwhelming silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the distant hoot of an owl, and the occasional rustling of leaves in the woods.
Blackwood Manor, as it emerged from the mists, was a sight to behold. It stood like a relic from another era, towering turrets reaching towards the heavens, with gargoyles leering down upon the world below. The paint on its grand façade had long since peeled away, revealing the decaying wood beneath. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the manor was surrounded by a dense, overgrown thicket, almost as if the forest was trying to reclaim the estate.
The great, wrought-iron gates, creaking ominously, slowly swung open as I approached, and I walked up the weed-infested driveway, guided only by the eerie moonlight. Samuel was waiting for me at the entrance, his face haggard and eyes filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He greeted me with a nervous smile and welcomed me inside, where the air was thick with the scent of age and decay.
As we settled in, Samuel explained the reason for his purchase of the manor. It had been a Blackwood family property for generations, and he had always been fascinated by its dark history. He recounted tales of restless spirits, lost souls, and an ancient curse that had supposedly plagued the family for centuries. I listened with skepticism, attributing it to the overactive imagination of a man who had spent too much time alone in this foreboding place.
The manor's interior was a labyrinth of dimly lit hallways, each filled with portraits of long-dead ancestors, their eyes following me with an unsettling intensity. Paintings, dust-covered and cracked, whispered tales of misfortune, madness, and untimely deaths. But the most ominous of them all was the portrait of Lady Eleanor Blackwood, a forlorn woman said to have been the victim of the family curse, her pale visage bearing an expression of eternal torment.
Dinner that evening was a somber affair, with Samuel and I feasting on meager provisions and dusty bottles of wine. As we talked, the conversation invariably turned to the supernatural. Samuel shared stories of strange occurrences, of doors that opened of their own accord, phantom footsteps in the dead of night, and whispers that echoed through the empty corridors.
With the wine coursing through my veins, I scoffed at his tales, dismissing them as mere products of an overactive imagination. I was convinced that the eerie atmosphere of the manor had played tricks on his mind. That was until the clock struck midnight.
The grandfather clock in the corner of the dining room chimed with a deafening resonance that seemed to shake the very foundations of the manor. Its pendulum swung with an unnatural, metronomic regularity, and I felt an icy hand clutch at my heart. The room grew unbearably cold, and I could see my breath forming in front of me.
Then, from the depths of the manor, we heard a faint, mournful melody. It was a haunting tune, played on a piano with deft, ghostly fingers. Samuel and I exchanged terrified glances, and we both knew there was no piano in the manor. The music swelled, filling the room with a chilling sadness that seemed to seep into our very souls.
Without exchanging a word, we followed the sound down a corridor, and there, we found a door we had not noticed before. It was slightly ajar, and the haunting melody emanated from the darkness beyond. Samuel hesitated, and I could see the fear in his eyes, but curiosity drove us forward.
As we entered the room, the source of the music became clear. A grand, ebony piano stood in the center, its keys moving of their own accord, played by invisible hands. The room itself was a place of enchanting dread, filled with paintings that seemed to depict the events of nightmares, and a collection of oddities and curiosities that defied reason.
The spectral pianist, hidden from view, played on, her music luring us deeper into the room. Then, with a sudden and malevolent crescendo, the lid of the piano slammed shut, nearly catching Samuel's fingers. The room plunged into darkness, and the temperature plummeted further. We were trapped in that room with an unseen presence, and a sense of dread settled over us like a shroud.
In the darkness, we fumbled for the door, struggling to escape the room that had become a prison of horrors. But as we inched toward the exit, we were met with a whisper, cold and menacing, that sent shivers down our spines.
"Leave now," it hissed, a voice both ghostly and human, "before it's too late."
We heeded the warning, flinging the door open and fleeing into the cold, moonlit corridor. The piano continued to play, its melancholic tune echoing after us, as if mourning our escape.
Back in the dining room, we tried to rationalize the experience, but it was impossible to dismiss it as a mere hallucination. The room was filled with a palpable sense of malevolence, and the melody still haunted our ears. We knew we couldn't stay in the manor another night, but as we made our way toward the entrance, the heavy oak doors swung shut with a thunderous force, sealing us inside.
Panic gripped us as we realized that our only escape had been barred. We pounded on the doors, screamed for help, but the manor remained eerily silent. It was as if the very walls themselves conspired to keep us within their dark
embrace.
Exhausted and terrified, we decided to search for an alternate exit, but our attempts were fruitless. The manor's layout seemed to shift and change, leading us in endless circles. It was as if the building itself toyed with us, a living, malevolent entity.
Our ordeal continued for what felt like an eternity, with strange and unnatural occurrences happening around us. Candles extinguished on their own, shadowy figures moved through the corridors, and disembodied whispers filled the air. The manor seemed to feed on our fear, growing stronger with each passing moment.
As dawn broke, Samuel and I found ourselves in a dark, forgotten corner of the manor, a place that reeked of despair and decay. It was here that we uncovered a hidden door, concealed behind a tapestry. With trembling hands, we pushed it open, revealing a narrow, winding staircase that descended into the bowels of the earth.
Our last shreds of hope clinging to us, we descended into the darkness, the stairs spiraling deeper and deeper into the abyss. The air grew colder and more oppressive, and the flickering torches that lined the walls cast eerie, dancing shadows that seemed to whisper sinister secrets.
As we descended, we encountered a series of locked doors, each adorned with grotesque symbols and inscriptions that were unfamiliar to us. These symbols seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, and I could feel their malevolence seeping into my very being.
We eventually came to a chamber unlike any we had encountered before. It was vast and filled with an unearthly, greenish light. In the center stood a grotesque, ancient altar, adorned with symbols of a forgotten religion. Upon the altar lay a stone sarcophagus, its lid adorned with the visage of a leering, horned demon.
As we approached, a whispering, disembodied voice filled the chamber, speaking in a language that no human tongue could replicate. Samuel and I exchanged terrified glances, realizing that we had stumbled upon something beyond our comprehension.
The voice grew louder, and we could feel its words burrowing into our minds, driving us to the brink of madness. With a final, anguished cry, Samuel fell to his knees, clutching his head in torment. I reached for him, but it was too late. His eyes glazed over, and he began to speak in a voice not his own, reciting incantations and prophecies of doom.
I fled from the chamber, the agonized cries of my friend echoing in my ears, as the manor itself seemed to quake with an unholy fury. I knew I had to escape, to find a way out of this living nightmare, but the twisting corridors and shifting walls continued to confound me.
I was pursued by a relentless presence, a malevolent force that whispered horrors into my ear, promising eternal torment and suffering. It was as if the very essence of Blackwood Manor had come alive to claim my soul.
My flight led me back to the grand entrance hall, where the cursed piano sat, still playing its haunting melody. Desperation overcame me, and I pounded on the door, screaming for release from this living hell. Then, in one final act of defiance, the piano's lid swung open, and the unseen specter within played a dissonant chord, sending shockwaves through the manor.
With an otherworldly roar, the manor itself began to crumble, its walls and foundations shaking and splintering. I was cast to the floor as the world around me disintegrated into chaos. It was a maelstrom of malevolence, a descent into madness.
In the chaos, I was flung from the manor, my body tumbling through the air and crashing to the ground outside. I lay there, dazed and battered, as Blackwood Manor collapsed in on itself, consumed by the darkness that had festered within.
As I staggered to my feet, the ruins of the manor were swallowed by the earth, leaving only a smoldering crater in their wake. Samuel and the horrors that had tormented us were gone, lost to the depths of an unfathomable abyss.
I stumbled away from the accursed place, my mind fractured and my soul scarred by the horrors I had witnessed. I was the sole survivor of that night, but I carried with me the weight of the darkness that had once consumed Blackwood Manor.
I share this tale not for sympathy or absolution but as a warning to all who may be drawn to the sinister secrets of that forsaken place. Blackwood Manor is a cursed realm, a gateway to horrors beyond comprehension. To those who may be tempted to explore its dark depths, I implore you, do not enter, for the price of curiosity may be your very soul. The malevolent entity that dwells within the manor is patient, and it hungers for the torment of the living. Beware the haunting of Blackwood Manor, for once you enter, there may be no escape from the terrors that lie within. | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bdqlb/the_haunting_of_blackwood_manor/ | nosleep | SecureProfile7830 |
false | A Serial Killer is Copying Horror Movies Part 3 | Part 2: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17a6fvm/a\_serial\_killer\_is\_copying\_horror\_movies\_part\_2/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17a6fvm/a_serial_killer_is_copying_horror_movies_part_2/)
Because Samantha was from one town over, the crime scene was more crowded, more complicated to navigate.
Her parents showed up. Her brothers and sister too. They wanted to see her, touch her. Her mother shouted at the EMS responders to check her heart rate, give her oxygen, do chest compressions.
“Ma’am…” one of them said, softly. He didn’t need to say anything else. We all knew what he meant. She was dead. Had been for a while. There was no bringing her back.
The chief of police from Samantha’s town showed up with a couple of patrol cars. They sent ambulances and a fire engine too, to help get the body out of the well.
I told him we managed just fine, but thanks.
He asked me for photos of the scene. He didn’t say “crime scene.” Probably because he thought it was an accident.
I told him I’d send them over. I remembered, suddenly, that the tape was in my pocket. We hadn’t photographed it, hadn’t entered it into evidence. There was still time, but I held onto it anyway.
I rationalized it. The body had been found in our town. It was our jurisdiction. I’d share the tape and its contents with them later. No need to make the parents feel any worse by bringing some old horror movie into this. This was real. Their real daughter, found that way. Their real daughter, dead. Not a prop in a sick bastard’s game. Not something to be used for set dressing or a reference to a stupid movie.
“Why’s she wearing that dress?” the mother asked. “She wasn’t wearing that dress.”
Paul was the ME for Samantha’s town. I wanted to talk to him about the case, like I had about Becca and Dylan, but I couldn't. Not here. He’d report his findings to that sheriff first. Jurisdiction. Complications. I’d ask him about it later. We trusted each other in that way. In the meantime, I had a tape to watch.
I walked up to my car just in time to see Jordan pull up…with Vivi in the passenger’s seat.
As soon as Jordan stepped out of the car, I practically tackled him.
“You brought my daughter here?” I asked. “This is a crime scene!”
“You told me to watch her!” Jordan said. “I didn’t want to leave her alone at the station. She rode her bike there and it’s dark and—”
“You left me here all day!” Vivi said, shouting from the back seat. “Like a prisoner!” She tried opening the door but it wouldn’t budge. Vivi knew that it wouldn’t open. She’d ridden in patrol cars since she was a kid. But in all the excitement, she must’ve forgotten. I was livid. She wanted to get out…no, she felt she had the right to get out, the right to go up to the well and gawk at a dead girl’s body, the right to walk onto the crime scene. And why? Because she was my daughter? Because she liked horror movies? Because she had the same morbid curiosity that was running rampant in this small town?
I took a deep breath, feeling the heat on my cheeks dissipate. It took a lot of the anger with it as it went.
I reached out and opened the door.
“I didn’t tell Jordan to hold you there,” I said, leaning in to look Vivi in the eyes. “I just told him to watch you. But he shouldn’t have brought you here.”
“What’s that?” Vivi asked, pointing to my jacket.
My stomach sank. The VHS tape was sticking out of my pocket.
“A VHS tape?”
“No,” I said. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s a VHS tape isn’t it? As soon as Jordan said they found a girl in a well I knew it was related! That’s what I wanted to tell you yesterday! Like the message on your phone. Seven movies, seven bodies, seven days? Seven days is right out of The Ring!”
“How’d you know about the message on my phone?” I asked.
“You kept playing it, over and over again,” Vivi said. “Not just in your ear but when you had the phone on your hand. I thought you knew I heard it.” She suddenly looked hurt. It reminded me of when she was a kid, when I’d accuse her of something that her brother had done.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s get back to the station and check out the tape.”
“I’ve got the crime scene photos!” Jordan said, holding up his camera.
I could tell he was excited. The only crime scene photos he’d ever taken were of broken windows, scratched-up cars, or empty spaces left behind by stolen property.
“Alright, follow us to the station,” I said.
Before I left, I caught Paul talking to the other sheriff. We shared a look. I tried to keep my face neutral. I didn’t want him to know that these two cases are related. Not yet, and certainly not in the way that they are, as references to famous screen killings. So far, we’ve managed to avoid any mention of horror movies altogether. I don’t our local little newspaper to start calling these the Horror Movie Killings or, like the commenter Dear-Original-675 suggested, dubbing whoever is behind this the “Thriller Killer.”
The last thing I need is more attention on this. I’m already risking enough by posting it on here. I hope that the risk is worth it, that your comments, suggestions, and even theories might help me make sense of it.
Vivi sat in the passenger seat on the ride back to the station.
I keep referring to her as Vivi but, a few weeks ago, she threw this huge fit over it, saying that “Vivi” sounds stupid and childish. We’ve called her Vivi since she was a baby. She said that her friends call her Viv. And her dad too.So I relented and called her Viv for a few days, then she said it sounded wrong and said that I should call her Vivi. Her friends and her dad still get to call her Viv though.
“So,” I started. “Chris tells me you have a boyfriend.’”
“Mom,” Vivi said. “Stop.”
“What? You’ve had boyfriends before.”
“Not real ones. I was like thirteen.”
“But this one’s real?”
“I guess. I don’t know. I hope so.”
“So tell me about him.”
Vivi sighed dramatically. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Chris said he had a car. That he picks you up and drops you off late.”
“I’m gonna kill that little asshole!”
“Hey!” I shouted. “He’s just worried about you!”
“He shouldn’t be, and he shouldn’t tell on me either. I don’t tell you about the shit he does. Like the fact that he’s hanging out with Aaron and Lee and smoking pot behind the movie theater.”
“Well I didn’t know that,” I said. “And I’m not happy about it. But you didn’t have to turn it into all this. It was just a question. You’re my daughter. If you’re dating a guy and he has a truck and he drives you around at night, I should know about it.”
“Can we talk about something else, please?” Vivi said. “Like maybe about the fact that there’s a fucking serial killer in town and that he’s obsessed with horror movies?”
“Language,” I said. “And alright. Fine.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“That’s confidential.”
“You don’t, do you?”
I sighed. She was right. We were looking into Becca Campbell’s friends, ex boyfriends, schedule and activities on the days surrounding her murder. Nothing jumped out at us. Nothing out of the ordinary. Ditto for Dylan Russell. He hadn’t gotten into any fights at school, wasn’t tied to our town’s drug scene. Dylan wasn’t a bully or a stereotypical jock and he didn’t make enemies, as far as we knew. He was a good kid.I didn’t know Samantha Harris but I’m sure there’d be nothing on that front too.
“No fingerprints?” Vivi asked.
“No,” I said. “Or at least none we could find. Mason Bradley, Allie Park, and Stephanie Crawford aren’t exactly a world class CSI team.”
“I think they were careful.”
“They?” I asked. “You think we’re dealing with two killers?”
“No,” Vivi said. “I don’t know but no I don’t think so. I said ‘they’ because I don’t know who it is.”
“Oh,” I said.
“I was thinking about something,” Vivi said. “Seven movies, seven bodies, seven days, right? So far it’s been two days, and two movies, but three victims. First Scream and now The Ring.”
“Yeah,” I said. “So?”
“The count’s already off. There was one extra victim on day one.”
She was right.
“You think he—”
“They.”“You think they made a mistake?”
“No. Scream’s opening scene has two victims. They replicated the scene as well as they could. Dylan and Becca even look a little like the victims.”
“So if we assume he—”
“They.”
“So if they keep going like this, with one movie and one victim each day. There are five days left, and five movies, but only four victims. How could they reference seven movies but only kill six people. It has to be seven bodies, right?”
“Yeah,” Vivi said. “That’s what I was thinking about…and I think I know the answer.”
“What?”
“Seven and seven and seven.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s a movie called Seven. It actually inspired the Saw franchise. In that movie, the killer references the seven deadly sins by killing seven people. Well, he kills six but seven die, but I guess that’s a spoiler.”
“Okay, so?”
“This whole thing is a reference to the movie seven. They’ve already killed three people and referenced three movies. Scream. The Ring. And Seven. That leaves only four movies and four victims, but five days."
“They’re not gonna kill anyone the last day,” I said.
“Not if they want only seven victims, no,” Vivi said, smiling. “And judging how strict they’ve been with their references, I don’t think they’d spoil all this by screwing the numbers up.”
“Good job,” I said.
Despite how horrible this whole thing had been, I actually enjoyed talking with Vivi, spending time with her, working the case with her. It was like a book or a Lifetime movie, a sheriff solving crimes with her daughter.
When we got to the station, I put the VHS tape into one of the VCRs in the video room. We still have VCRs, yeah. Cops use them a lot.
A series of confusing images showed up, like a strange, black and white, avant-garde student film. It lasted only a few minutes.
When it was done, Vivi looked at me and smiled.
"That's the tape from The Ring," she said. "I'm pretty sure they just ripped it straight from the DVD's special features."
"It's scary how much you know about this," I said.
"I love horror movies," Vivi said, shrugging. "You know that."
The next morning, Vivi and I got up at the same time, got dressed at the same time, and rode to the station together. It was like we’d both agreed, without talking about it, that we’d be a team on this. I didn’t really have a choice. I didn’t want to bring someone in on this that I couldn’t trust, and I didn’t know anyone who knew horror movies like Vivi.
We were pulling up to the station when we got the call.
“Ana?” Monica asked. She was our dispatcher/secretary/general assistant.
“Another body?” I asked.
“Well, yes,” Monica said.
“But that’s not all?”
“It’s Jordan,” Monica said. “Harriet said he didn’t come home last night.”
Vivi and I shared a look.
“I called the medical examiner too, a doctor—”
“What did Paul say?”
“He didn’t say anything. I got his assistant. He said that Paul didn’t come into work. They called his wife and apparently he didn’t come home last night either.”
“Another two victims?” Vivi mouthed.
“We don’t know that it’s related,” I said. “Let’s just focus on the call for now. Where is it?”
I could’ve dropped Vivi off at the station, but I wanted her with me. She made me feel better about all this. We pulled up to a house. It was a new family. I didn’t know them. Even in a small town, you can’t know everyone.
And I was glad I didn’t know them. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to handle the sounds the parents made when we walked into the home if I had known them or their dead kid.
I walked up the stairs, to their daughter’s room, and opened the door. I flipped on the lights, and immediately wished I hadn’t.
There was a girl sitting on her bed. She was wearing a blue nightgown. Old fashioned. It was covered in green vomit. The girl was sitting with her back to me, but I could still see her face, could see the discoloration on it, the cuts, the bruises. I could see all of it because the girl was facing me, even if her back was turned to me. She was facing me because her head had been twisted 180 degrees.I don’t know many horror movies, but I knew this one.
The Exorcist.
Part 4: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17cgzs8/a_serial_killer_is_copying_horror_movies_part_4/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17b5ls3/a_serial_killer_is_copying_horror_movies_part_3/ | nosleep | MidnightPaper |
false | It was the best Halloween party I've ever had. It traumatized me for life. | It was such an incredible party. Genuinely, if I had to pick out the most happy and wonderful moments of my life, that Halloween party would have been one of them. That's why it hurts so much to remember it. It makes me want to break down crying whenever I think about the terrible, awful thing that happened right under our noses, and how none of us even noticed. It feels so obvious, looking back on it now. Hindsight is 20/20 I suppose.
I wouldn't say I'm a particularly unsocial person, I think I get along with people quite well once I've gotten to know them, but something about making that first step of initial contact just always seemed so difficult. I always felt incredibly awkward being introduced to strangers, and while I can mask that discomfort fairly well, it does mean that I tend to adopt a slightly stilted and formal attitude whenever I'm meeting new people.
As a consequence, and also in part due to the pandemic, much of my socializing for the past few years has been online. The awkwardness is still there of course, but it feels so much less uncomfortable when the people I am being introduced to are just text on a screen. However, this does mean that most of my friends tend to live quite far away. A handful of them do live within about an hour's drive of me, so we tend to hang out whenever possible, at least we used to before the party. Nowadays it just feels wrong.
It was on one such meetup with three friends of mine that we discussed the possibility of a throwing a big party of some sort. We all navigated the same general social circles, and we had considered for a while inviting down the myriad online friends we had acquired over the years, at least the ones we trusted. It was I who suggested we host the party on Halloween. From there the discussion swiftly turned to themes, since what kind of Halloween party wouldn't have a theme?
Jessica suggested that we host something inspired by mythology and ancient history. She had always been quite interested in legends, myths, and classical literature of all kinds, and I recall fondly our discussions of *Beowulf*, the *Epic of Gilgamesh*, and the *Romance of the Three Kingdoms*. As much as I would have liked to indulge her, the others pointed out it could be somewhat of a niche topic, and so the discussion continued.
Sadie, Jessica's girlfriend, suggested something themed off of horror films. Sadie had, partially at my encouragement, been on a bit of a horror movie kick as of late, and we had all enjoyed spending time rewatching some of the old classics together. It seemed like a solid theme, and Jessica and I were almost set to agree on it, but it was then that Jake suggested his idea.
In any given queer friend group, there is typically one straight member who has been deemed "safe" by the others. Jake was that friend. We all considered him trustworthy and never really had to worry about him putting his foot in his mouth whenever the conversation veered towards a rainbow hue. I had half-expected Jake to suggest a historical theme, given his degree in military history, but instead he advised that we go for a traditional sort of Halloween party; bobbing for apples, carving pumpkins, that sort of thing.
The rest of us immediately agreed this would be the best course of action. Not only would it mean that none of the attendees would have to adjust their costumes for the occasion, but also none of us had ever actually attended such an event, and the novelty of something simultaneously nostalgic yet alien was the perfect combination. Instantly there was discussion of activities, decorations, and whether or not we should pool together our funds to get a fog machine.
Now, obviously the four of us didn't plan out the entire party in one night. We still had to figure out who we trusted well enough to give Jessica's address to (it was decided early on that her house would be the most suitable for hosting), send out invitations, and even put up a couple of online fundraisers to try and get plane tickets for some of our more distant friends. Over the months that this process took we soon found that what had started out as mere idle discussion was rapidly taking shape into what seemed would be a rather excellent celebration.
Now, each of us were to contribute some sort of activity that we would watch over and purchase the necessary supplies for. Sadie's medical background gave her the rather ghoulish idea of setting up a pumpkin carving table themed after an autopsy, which while strictly speaking wasn't traditional, fit so well with the whole aesthetic of the party that we all found it delightful. Jessica set about acquiring an old style wooden barrel for the purpose of bobbing for apples, putting her artistic skills to good use with paintings of various Halloween spooks on the sides of it. My idea was somewhat silly but still wound up being put to use. I couldn't find if the game had a real name, or if it was just called "The Mirror Game", but I'd heard it alleged that if you stared at your own face in the mirror for long enough your mind would distort the image in a rather frightful manner, so I was going to set up the bathroom with candles and a chair, the lights turned off.
Jake decided he was going to set up a game of Dead Man's Brains.
If you've ever read *Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark*, you've probably heard of this game. You set up a series of boxes with bits of cloth loosely covering the opening, and place within each box some nasty object that feels like the body part of a dead man. Peeled grapes for eyes, a bowl of diluted ketchup for blood, a mushy tomato for the titular brain, etc. There was a sort of pseudo-poem that was supposed to go along with it, but Jake didn't really care to stick too close to the traditional version, he said he would put his own twist on it. We all thought it was a great idea, and that it fit the theme perfectly. Jake even went about making some custom boxes for the affair, each labeled with the "body part" in question, deciding that his version would consist of eyeballs, guts, heart, fingers, and of course, the titular brains.
The months until the party turned into weeks, then days, until finally it was time for the night itself. I arrived early, along with Sadie, so we could set up our activities in advance of the guests, but Jake was nowhere to be found. We texted him, but received no response, which was a bit worrying, but we tried to work around it, assuming that something had come up that was occupying his attention for a bit.
In terms of costumes, Sadie and Jessica had decided to go as Carmilla and Laura from *Carmilla*. We had recently watched the film *Dracula's Daughter* which was loosely inspired by the novella, and while the film itself was so-so, it had inspired the two of them to read the source material, which they quite enjoyed. Given Sadie's relative short stature in comparison to Jessica, it was somewhat amusing to observe a Carmilla who would need a step stool in order to successfully suck out her victim's blood.
As for me, I had chosen to dress as the witch Keziah Mason from Lovecraft's tale *Dreams in the Witch House*. It was a simple matter of getting some puritan-esque clothes, a ragged gray shawl, and a small toy rat with the bearded face of an action figure swapped for the head. All in all I thought the effect was rather good, though I didn't go to the effort of attempting to age myself with makeup.
Jessica's apple bobbing station and Sadie's pumpkin autopsy table were set up quickly, and I went about preparing all the necessary alterations to the bathroom. At this point, the first guests were expected to arrive, and we were all growing increasingly concerned by Jake's continued absence. We tried calling him, but were directed straight to voice mail. Of the four of us, Jake was usually the most punctual, so this was a very strange change of character. We decided we would have to start without him, not that we had much choice in the matter, as soon as we had said this, our first guests began to pour in.
Our first visitors of the evening were Ashley and Dawn, fresh from their honeymoon in British Columbia. Dawn seemed dressed like something out of a World War 2 propaganda poster, with a plaid shirt and open welding mask. Ashley's costume seemed to be a character out of some cartoon or video game which I wasn't familiar with, pink hair in a punk style with large mechanical boxing gloves of some sort. Regardless of my unfamiliarity with the subject matter, the costume did seem to be quite well made, and despite the lack of matching with regards to their costumes, the two of them made quite the cute couple.
We had only just managed to finish introductions when Sock and his boyfriend arrived next. Sock is quite the artist, with talents in more mediums than I can count, one of those people who is less a jack of all trades and more a master of all trades. It seemed he had turned his artistic skills towards papier mache most recently, as the costume he wore seemed primarily made using the technique. It was some sort of monstrous beast, all fangs, claws, and scaly skin, and though it was quite impressive I couldn't quite discern if it was meant to reference something else or if it was an original creation of Sock's. Sock's boyfriend, whose name I can never recall, simply wore a cheap mad scientist outfit, complete with goggles and long black gloves. He was a rather short, anxious gentleman, a mycologist by trade if I recall correctly, and while he did seem to enjoy himself as the evening progressed, he tended to just hover around his boyfriend nervously.
Next came Carlos and Elizabeth, the two of them sharing a ride to save money. Both had just landed after extremely long flights, Carlos from Brazil and Elizabeth from France, and it was clear from their bleary eyes and occasionally spacey looks that they were jet-lagged to Hell and back. Carlos hadn't really had time to get any sort of costume ready, so simply wore some nice tweeds and a sign hanging from his neck reading "I am a human puppet". Elizabeth meanwhile had managed to put on some clown makeup. In spite of their tiredness, the two of them seemed to perk up quite quickly, as this was the first time any of us had the opportunity to meet up in person with them, and our enthusiasm was infectious.
Second to last arrived Astra, clad in the garb of a Napoleonic soldier, and I knew even without asking that every aspect of the uniform was sure to be as accurate as possible. Within minutes of her arrival, Astra, Carlos, and Elizabeth were instantly locked in conversation regarding the intricacies of lightweight tabletop role playing game design, a topic they continued to discuss for much of the party.
Finally, after every other guest had long since made their way to the party, did Jake show up. There was a knock upon Jessica's thick wooden door, and since everyone else was otherwise occupied in conversation, I went to answer it. I found myself standing face to face with a gas-masked infantryman of the Great War, complete with Brodie helmet and a replica Webley revolver which I lent him. Next to him were a series of wooden boxes. I greeted him with a hug, which he responded with silently and stiffly. Something was wrong, but I didn't know what.
He pressed a piece of folded up paper into my hand, which I read immediately. It said, *Sorry for being late. Couldn't find the card for the train. I've got a cold and I've lost my voice. I'll probably have to leave early, but I figured I should at least show up as long as I can. Would have told you earlier but my phone stopped working, I think the battery gave out.*
I apologized profusely for the hardships he had experienced and ushered him into the house to the cheers of our friends, carrying the boxes he had brought for him. Each box was made of dark stained wood with an opening covered in black cloth, with a label burned above the openings stating which "body part" was contained within each one. It was really quite impressive, and I complimented Jake on his handywork, to which he simply nodded.
I helped him set up the game of Dead Man's Brains on the table we had set aside for it, and the rest of the party continued as planned, though the distinctive absence of Jake's voice was noticeable.
Everything about the party was perfect. Legitimately, I do not think I have ever had a happier occasion in my entire life. There was laughter, jokes, at some point or another Ashley and Dawn broke out some card games, Elizabeth ran a quick session of a horror TTRPG of her own design, it was a truly magical evening. The theme of the classic Halloween party didn't go unobserved either. Plenty of time was spent bobbing for apples, staring into the mirror by candlelight (though it did admittedly devolve into chanting of "Bloody Mary" rather quickly), carving pumpkins, and everyone in the party adored Jake's rendition of Dead Man's Brains. He accepted each compliment with a polite nod and a tip of his helmet.
There were five boxes, labeled "Eyes", "Guts", "Fingers", "Heart" and finally, "Brain". I've always been somewhat squeamish when it came to rotten fruit, raw meat and other such inedible foodstuffs, and what I felt in those boxes quickly triggered that latent disgust. I only managed to get to guts before I had to dip out, laughingly explaining that I would vomit if I had to undergo the whole thing. There were many jokes about me being a pussy, but I wasn't pressured into doing the rest of it.
We had already planned to make the party into a sleepover, since we didn't expect anyone to shell out the money for a hotel. As the evening wound down, out came the air mattresses and pillows. As soon as it was clear that the more active part of the evening was coming to a close, Jake quietly excused himself, handing a note to Jessica thanking her for hosting the party. We all gave our fondest fairwells to him, each of us hugging him in turn, and he left with a final wave and a cheerful salute.
We all slept soundly that night, happy from the company of friends and tired from a night of childlike, innocent fun. It was such a perfect party, and despite what I know now, I still find myself reliving that night over and over in my head, remembering how happy and content I felt.
Everything changed in the morning. I had woken up earlier than usual, nose wrinkling due to an unfamiliar stench. I got up to investigate, more intent on getting rid of it so I could go back to sleep than getting up for the day proper.
The smell came from the boxes, a rotten, sickly odor. The scent of meat just beginning to spoil. I remember mentally kicking myself for not reminding Jake to take them with him when he left. I put on a pair of rubber gloves and reached inside, trying not to gag. I started with the box labeled "Eyes".
I must have woken up the whole neighborhood with my screaming.
The police were there within 15 minutes to take our testimony. They kept asking everyone for a description of the suspect, what he looked like, and we just had to shake our heads and tell them we didn't know. That we couldn't tell who he was underneath the gas mask. Hell, we didn't even know if "he" was a he. We didn't see their face after all.
They took the eyes, the intestines, the severed fingers, the heart, and the severed head with the top of the skull neatly removed as evidence, but I imagine Jake's family were swiftly given custody of the remains shortly afterwards. It's not like forensics would be able to get any usable fingerprints off of them, given how many of us had touched them. | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17ayhj5/it_was_the_best_halloween_party_ive_ever_had_it/ | nosleep | PriestessOfSpiders |
false | I found an unmarked livestream.. | Like many people these days, I have the unfortunate affliction of being unable to fall asleep right away. Whether in complete darkness, or basking in the dim reflection of a phone screen, no matter how tired I become, sleep eludes me almost completely. It’s only when exhaustion takes over completely that my body allows for a few meager hours of fitful, uncomfortable rest, only to begin the cycle anew the next night. I’ve tried everything to remedy this; from pills to standing on my head before crawling into bed. Nothing forces my eyes to close faster, so I have taken up a small hobby in order to pass the time while my brain and body fight for control.
Living in a modern city, wildlife sightings have been reduced to street rats and the occasional overweight pigeon, so finding nature live streams was like a little slice of the country packed into my phone screen. Night after night, I found myself watching streams of giant bears fishing in Alaska, watering holes in Africa, even underwater piers in the southern US. There was one stream, however, that I always ended up coming back to.
It was situated on the outskirts of a large forest. The location information was strangely unavailable, however, the timestamp indicated that it was located somewhere on the East Coast. The camera was focused on the edge of a forest where a small feast of nuts, berries, and other treats was arranged for the denizens of the wood to come out and partake in every night once the sun had set. It was well-maintained and someone obviously cared very much for the creatures they provided for.
There were a few birds that flitted around during the day, but it was the night streams where the real activity was. Possums, raccoons, deer, foxes, even the occasional coyote would dash about on camera, their foraging unknowingly broadcast to whomever happened to be watching that night. There was no view count, so I was unable to tell if there were others who were watching along with me, or if I was experiencing this little treasure trove alone. Either way, I didn’t mind. It was something to keep me occupied until exhaustion allowed me to tap out for the night.
For a while, there was really nothing of interest. There wasn’t supposed to be. I don’t know how long it had been there before I had noticed it. At first, it looked almost like a poorly maintained halloween decoration. Its limbs were much too large for its emaciated body and its jaw appeared almost broken the way that it stood open, caught in a silent scream of agony with a mouth much too large in proportion to the rest of its features. It stood much too far back in the wooded area for the camera to focus on it, so most features were muddled and blurred in the backdrop of leaves and branches; the only thing that could be seen with an almost unsettling clarity were its eyes, two shimmering portals in the darkness, reflected in the night vision of the camera. It almost looked like a deer. A deer that had been mangled in some freak accident, perhaps, and still managed to survive the night. Regardless, its eyes were never focused on the camera directly. It appeared to be looking elsewhere, focused intently on a target off-camera.
It never moved from this position; at least, not while I had been watching it. It appeared and disappeared each night, seeming to blink in and out of reality, though rooted at the same exact spot. It never moved. It never breathed. Never even blinked. I thought, perhaps, that it was the reflection of some strange bird feeder, given how still it always was. Just catching the light strangely and manifesting a strange creature in the dark that my tired brain just couldn't comprehend. Like seeing faces in clouds. Looking at that same spot during the day, however, confirmed that there was nothing there. Just deep dark woodland.
Whatever I’d been seeing was alive. Or at least it acted like it was.
Things changed one night. I don’t know what caused the change or why it happened. I was facing another bout of insomnia, sleep refusing to come for the umpteenth time, and I decided to again check the cameras. Things appeared normal for the most part. At least, I had thought so at first. The subtle differences came to my attention slowly. The timestamp on the camera had stopped working, or was at the very least malfunctioning, for though there was a light breeze pushing leaves about on screen, time was not passing as it normally would have. It wasn’t moving at all. It had stopped completely, frozen at the 0300 hour mark. Each second passed and the camera reset itself, the same one second of footage repeating itself over and over again.
It noticed me before I noticed it. The creature that had been standing just out of focus of the camera for what had felt like months at this point had shifted its attention. No longer focusing off-camera at some unknown target, it was now staring directly at the camera, head tilted at an unnatural angle. Not only was it staring directly at the camera, but it was staring through it. It was staring at me.
The static came next. A deafening static that persisted no matter how quickly I muted the stream and even after I reduced the sound on my phone to 0%. It poured forth in angry, constant hissing from my speakers, as if punishing me for daring to watch what was not meant for me. The scream came after, piercing through the static. Guttural, raw. Almost human. The stream died soon after that, leaving me alone in the darkness, the error message being the only remnant of what once was flashing dimly on my phone screen.
The stream never came back after that. The webpage is gone, replaced with a 404 and there’s no discussion boards about its disappearance online from what my research has gathered. It’s just gone.
Sometimes I can see it. Peering down at me through the slits in my curtains, it’s large eyes like saucers in the distance. It’s watching, it’s broken slack jaw twitching, as if trying to gnash its teeth at me, dreaming of grinding my bones to dust. I don’t know what it’s waiting for, but I know it wants me.
There’s a new livestream.
24/7 \[Redacted\] City Livestream. The camera is aimed directly at my apartment. Every night, it gets a little bit closer. | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17basj6/i_found_an_unmarked_livestream/ | nosleep | SleepytimeProphet |
false | I Found The Original Chemical X Part 1 | Part 2: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17c2872/i\_found\_the\_original\_chemical\_x\_part\_2/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17c2872/i_found_the_original_chemical_x_part_2/)
Part 3: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17dhv3u/i\_found\_the\_original\_chemical\_x\_part\_3/
Do you remember The Powerpuff Girls? It was an old show from the late 1990’s and early 2000’s about three little girls with the powers of Superman who were made in a lab by a professor to fight crime. Sounds weird when you spell it out, doesn’t it? Well, it’s even weirder when you watch the show.
Despite the main characters being kindergarten aged, being named Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, having a pink room filled with heart décor, toys and a rainbow bed, the show is dark. The girls must constantly protect their city, the City of Townsville, from all manners of danger ranging from common criminals to supervillains to even the devil himself. Let me tell you, this show did NOT shy away from showing the true peril these girls had to face. They got hit, scratched, and at times downright tortured. Guns were drawn multiple times in the show. Actual guns, not some kind of laser or anything.
The Powerpuff Girls themselves would even dismember some of their foes. Granted it was usually giant monsters, but even so, if they colored the goo that came out of the monster’s red it would be like something out of Doom. It’s unfortunately not hard to imagine this premise today, especially with the all the “evil supermen” shows that exist today, but back then this subversion of expectations was revolutionary.
Like the superhero shows before it were more cheesy and light hearted, but this, for crying out loud there was blood in the intro, and this was still marketed for kids! That’s when I began thinking, what was the inspiration for this show? What drove a man like Craig McCracken to make a show like this? Was it just to subvert the genre? A simple critique? Maybe it was just an idea he randomly came up with and rolled with it.
Wikipedia says that McCracken’s inspiration for the Powerpuff Girls was the art of Margaret Keane, and I can see how that would be the case. Oh god, I wish that was the case. It didn’t explain the superpowers though, the ideas behind all the villains, and worst of all, the idea behind Chemical X. That’s when I started my research. I wanted to uncover the truth of The Powerpuff Girls, and… I did. I really wish I didn’t. That’s why I’m making this. Everyone should know the truth, it’s my duty as a historian to tell the truth, no matter how much I wish the truth remained buried.
Before I reveal the… uncomfortable truth, let me tell you about myself so you know why and how I even went on this mad quest for knowledge. My name is Doctor Rainer, I have a Ph.D in European History and Anthropology. I also have a bachelor’s in general science, but that’s more of a biproduct of my requirements for obtaining a history degree. I’m a researcher at the University of Texas. I won’t tell you which one though for privacy reasons. Yes, I know, wow, such an amazing career choice you might be thinking. Well for one thing I chose this because this is what interests me. Secondly, all history matters. If we forget even the smallest detail, then you’ll end up being taught that the American Revolutionary War was fought with M16’s. Lastly, I do have basic knowledge of global history, but I specialize in European because, as I said, it interests me. I’m getting off track, sorry.
My point is my job is to think, study, research and document. When I’m not forced to teach classes, I’m free to research anything in history that might not be documented yet. Yeah, even though I specialize in European History the college board doesn’t really distinguish or care about the classification of history unless it can be made into a class to make money. Make no mistake that colleges are corporations. Even if they get funding from the state from time to time, they still only care about money, which is why they care more about medical students and “athletic sciences”. Those are the money makers. Sidetracked again.
The point I’m making is that my job allows me a surprising amount of “freedom” in how I conduct research. During these “off times” my job mainly consists of me looking for historical documents and writing research papers on them. Papers like… like this one. Like with all research papers, we don’t start with a thesis, rather a question. As you saw above you’ve seen my question; what inspired the Powerpuff Girls? You’re probably asking when this crazy idea came into my head and why a European historian would be wasting their time on an American cartoon that isn’t even that old. Or you’re probably asking me to get to the point already. Well, the truth is it came from a period of depression. A combination of low academic importance mixed with a social life that only exists online leads to points of sheer loneliness.
So, I tried to find something to keep my mind occupied. I began re-watching The Powerpuff Girls. I had hoped to return to a simpler time watching the show. Instead, my researcher’s brain began going into overdrive. I began thinking about all the things I said at the beginning of this paper. Why was this show so dark? Then something hit me. What if this show wasn’t just a random stroke of genius? What if it was inspired by something? Well, obviously I answered my own question, right? Earlier I mentioned Craig McCracken was inspired by the paintings of Margaret Keane. Well, where did she get her ideas? How did inspiration from art about big eyed children become a show about kindergarteners beating up bad guys to the brink of a bloody pulp? I wanted to find out how it all started because I had nothing better to do.
Despite what your teachers or professors have said, everyone uses Wikipedia. So, I went there to begin my research into what inspired Margaret Keane’s paintings. I didn’t find anything that supported my thesis, but there was one line that stuck out to me. It was a quote from Margaret Keane that said “"Children do have big eyes. When I'm doing a portrait, the eyes are the most expressive part of the face. And they just got bigger and bigger and bigger,". I’m no psychologist, but I can tell when someone is saying something with deeper a meaning.
After that quote, the article said, “Keane focused on the eyes, as they show the inner person more.” I don’t think that’s right. I think there was a more literal meaning to what she was saying. I decided to have a look at some of her art. Almost every piece of art had a child with big eyes staring straight forward. There was something else though.
Almost every one of them had the exact same expression. An expression of hollowness. It didn’t matter if they were with an animal or sitting on the stairs, every child had this same expression. At one point I just stopped on one painting and looked right into the eyes. I felt like I stared at it for an hour, but I think it was only like a few minutes. This is when all my training came to a peak. As a historian and an anthropologist, it finally hit me. All these pictures are of the same person. Keane was obsessed, or maybe haunted by this person.
I wanted to desperately email Margaret Keane to ask her about this, but she died on June 26, 2022. I was too late to get her story. I thought briefly about getting into contact with her daughter, but there’s no record of her online. I bet it’s for privacy reasons, so I won’t go looking for her out of respect for that. Unfortunately, this also led to a dead end in this path of research. However, it was not the end.
I attempted to contact Craig McCracken. I had thought that if I was clever and asked the right questions, I could get the true story of the Powerpuff Girls out of him. Well turns out it’s harder to get a hold of a man who probably has infinitely better things to do than to humor the deranged ideals of a lowly college professor. At the time of writing this I believe he’s currently making something called “Super Toddlers” so that’s even more of a reason. Dead end again. I tried emailing many others who worked on the show like Gennady Tartakovsky and even the actors like Tom Kenny and Tara Strong, but again I was ignored.
It was at this point that the reality of what I was doing hit me in the face as hard as a Powerpuff Girls punch itself. I was a grown man, a college professor, harassing famous people in an attempt to prove an unfounded theory about a children’s cartoon because I was bored. Now not only do I feel like a creep, a feel like a lunatic too. However, it was right when I was leaning back in my chair with my face firmly planted in my cupped hands that I received an email.
There was a part of my job that I didn’t mention earlier because it’s a rare occasion, but admittedly it’s the most exciting part of my job. From time to time an archeological site will be uncovered. When this happens, a lengthy political and bureaucratic discussion begins between the people who discovered the site, the entity that owns the rights to the site, the country where the site is located, and the organizations that are interested in the site itself. Once the discussion is over, one of three outcomes occurs. Either the site is totally claimed by a private citizen and thus would require special permissions from said citizen to study the site; the site is deemed unimportant and remains abandoned or is purchased by a private entity or lastly the site becomes a Heritage Site where researchers, like me, can be assigned to uncover and document its mysteries and eventually open the site up for tourism.
If the third outcome happens, another discussion happens between the interested parties in question such as countries, political entities, universities employed by the state and/or private sector, and on even rarer occasions individual private citizens. This is to determine who would be best suited to excavate the site, but “more importantly” who will bring the most prestige to their respective parties. Yeah, it’s a pissing match but somewhere beyond the unnecessary competition is a real desire for knowledge, so I like to look at the positives.
The email was from my university. I won’t transcribe it word for word because it’s long and written like any corporate email would be, but to paraphrase it says “Dear Dr. Rainer, We have received word of a new Heritage site located near Lublin, Poland. Our university has been chosen to aid in the research and documentation of this site and YOU have been chosen as one of our research team members. Please report to the University in three days with your luggage and valid identification as well as a valid passport.” I was ecstatic! I’ve never been picked to go abroad and study anything, let alone a site that has just been discovered! Oh boy I miss that optimism. I packed up about a weeks’ worth of clothes, my laptop, my phone and toiletries. Don’t worry, I don’t have any pets or plants that need to be looked after so I had no need for a house sitter.
I arrived early as I usually do and was surprised that everyone who was chosen also decided to arrive early. It was a relatively small team too, only about five of us were chosen. There was something… peculiar about the people that were chosen. I won’t use their real names, but I will tell you what their field of study is. There was only one historian in this team, me. The other four were Doctor Kal’tsit (Kal for short) who is a medical professional and microbiologist, Doctor Mobius who is a roboticist and engineer, Doctor Oak who is a retired veterinarian and zoologist, and Doctor Oppen who is a nuclear physicist and chemist. Not that it really matters, but Kal was the only woman of the five of us, just so you’re aware. I was heavily confused about this whole situation when they told me about their professions. For a moment I felt like I was in the wrong place and even Doctor Kal looked at me with a worried look. Before I could ask any questions, a strange man walked in.
The man was about middle aged, dressed in a suit and wore sunglasses, even indoors. He carried a briefcase and wore a cold expression. He called out our names one by one and we answered as if it was a roll call. Once we answered he said, “Follow me.” and began walking out the door. The five of us grabbed our stuff and followed the strange man outside. When we got out there was three SUV’s waiting for us with people dressed similarly to the man who roll called us. It was strange, almost like we were going to be riding with the president. Are all university trips like this? We were instructed to put our bags in the last SUV. After we packed them up the men in suits ordered us to hand over our phones and get into the SUV’s.
“Ok…” I thought to myself, and the others had similar looks of confusion on them, though in the end we did as instructed. Mobius, Oak and Oppen were put into the second SUV. Kal and I were put into the first. The men in suits took the driving and shotgun seats and we began moving. The drive was… awkward. The men said nothing as we drove. Kal attempted to talk to them, but she was ignored. I attempted to start a conversation to try to ease tension. “Uh, this is my first time going out on one of these expeditions.” I said awkwardly. Kal gave me a side glance and said “Oh, good for you.” in a cold tone. She then put her hands on her lap and just stared forward. So much for that. The rest of the drive was uneventful.
We arrived at an airport, but instead of going through a terminal we were driven right to a hanger next to the runway. Outside of the hanger there was a small jet, probably a private one, and standing outside of it was three men, two in black suits with sunglasses and one in an unkempt brown blazer with a Hawaiian shirt underneath it. The SUV’s stopped and we were ordered to get out, which we did. The five of us were then approached by the Hawaiian shirt man who walked up to us like a playboy or any fathead you can think of and spoke in an equally fatheaded voice “Eyyyy it’s the science boys!” Kal gave an annoyed look. The fathead spoke again saying “As I’m sure you’re aware, you’re here because we uncovered something new and you five are chosen for your special talents.” Ok, now I’m starting to see red flags.
This might be my first time going on one of these expeditions, but this is way off from anything I know about these things. The others didn’t look so surprised, but I could see some skepticism from them. I was about to ask something when the fathead noticed me then strutted right to me. “Ah you must be Rainer!” He said as he grabbed my hands and started shaking them violently. “It’s Dr. Rainer.” I said annoyed. “Yeah whatever.” Said the fathead. “You’re especially integral for our little… dig, yeah.” He then but his arm around me and addressed the others. “Now, my name’s not important. What is important is I’m who’s funding this little excursion, so let’s set some ground rules. Rule number 1, don’t mess with the boys in the suits. Rule number 2, what I say goes and you will do whatever I say without questions. And most importantly, Rule number 3, you are not allowed to talk to anyone about what we find at the place we’re going to unless you’ve been approved to do so. Sound good?”
The others looked at the fathead with looks of confusion, worry, and slight annoyance. Regardless, we could all tell that this was something serious, so we just simply nodded our heads. “EXCELLENT!” The fathead screamed in my ear. He then waved his finger in the air and pointed to the jet. Guess we were ready to go. The suits began loading our luggage as the fathead, the five of us from the university, a couple of suits and the pilot and co-pilot boarded the jet. The door closed, we went onto the runway and then began flying. The flight was largely uneventful and unimportant, except for one time when the fathead sat down across from me, let out a big sigh and simply said “Care killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.” He then stumbled away. I could smell booze on him, so I think he was drunk. Other than that, I slept the whole time until we arrived. I wanted to ask questions like where we were going or what’s at the site we’re going to, but I thought against it. So did the others it seemed because none of us talked to each other the whole way there. | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17b9szw/i_found_the_original_chemical_x_part_1/ | nosleep | Mercury_Freelancer |
false | I went on a Halloween hiking trip with my friends. My reading light saved my life. | If only Jolene hadn’t worn that stupid mask, things might have ended differently. I might’ve called off the whole trip and saved everyone.
It all started as I stood at my mailbox waiting like a little kid who had ordered a toy from a cereal box. The mailman usually came at 3 o'clock never fail unless something had happened. I stood at my mailbox staring at my watch that said, ‘3:10’, so what was the holdup? Did he have a flat tire, did a terrorist attack, did a bear grab him when he was trying to deliver me my precious delivery?
Just as I was about to turn and go back to the house I saw the little yellow light flashing on top of a car coming my way and nearly jumped out of my skin.
This was it, if it didn’t come today, there was no way I’d have time to order another one before leaving for the camping trip.
The car slowly pulled up to the mailbox and I said hello. Instead of putting the mail in the box, he handed me a few letters and looked away. My heart sank as he turned and faced the road.
“Isn’t there anything else for me,” I said trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.
He turned and looked in the back seat.
“Oh, wait, it looks like there’s something I forgot,” he said, reaching into the back and handing me a brown envelope with the address on it I’d been looking for.
He smiled and waved as he drove off leaving me holding my prize.
This was going to be a good camping trip now.
I nearly skipped back to the house, threw the other mail on the table without looking at it, before ripping open the package. There it was, my glorious booklight.
I’m an avid reader and an avid camper. It’s always been a struggle to read during camping trips. I took along various battery-powered lamps and flashlights, but nothing seemed to work for me. Getting comfortable enough to really settle into my book was a challenge.
When I saw this light advertised on Instagram I instantly knew this was what I needed. It was a book light that wrapped around your neck with a light at each end that would shine on the book. There was no doubt it would be perfect and I ordered one right away. Finally, I could finish packing for the camping trip.
My friends and I loved to go hiking and camping. With a huge state park so close, it was a no-brainer that we would be there as often as possible. Every time we decided to go, we would all meet up at the trailhead and hike to the site together.
This time would be the exception. There were scheduling conflicts and if we wanted to go at all it wouldn’t be at the same time. Dawn and Rose could barely get away for the weekend.
They would have to catch up to us later at the campsite. At the last minute, even Jolene called and said she was running behind and might not make it until later.
In retrospect, I should’ve seen it coming, seeing what the date we had set for our trip. But instead of canceling and choosing another time, I just shrugged it off as conflicting schedules and hefted my backpack then started down the trail.
Being by myself on this trail never really bothered me before. I hiked this trail many times and never had a problem.
I decided to go early and get the camp set up so we could have maximum time together. My schedule had been cleared for the entire trip and I was going to take full advantage.
The sun had set until I started down the trail and it would be dark by the time I got to our campsite. Hiking at night wasn’t the best thing to do even though I knew the trail, but aside from getting camp set up, I was also excited to use my new book light.
It worked surprisingly well lighting up the trail and made it much easier to use my walking stick for the more difficult parts of the trail. Taking it slow, going at my own pace, and enjoying as much scenery as I could was a luxury I was enjoying. Usually, Dawn would lead the group and drive us hard until we got to camp.
I wanted to get out my book and read as I walked, but I figured that would be tempting fate and I had no desire to faceplant on the trail after discovering a tree root the hard way.
As I walked, lost in thought, suddenly the forest became eerily silent. The birds stopped singing, squirrels stopped chattering, even crickets stopped chirping. It was so quiet I could hear my own footsteps. It was very unsettling.
I stopped and slowly turned around, using my light to search for anything unusual. After a full circle without seeing anything out of the ordinary, I tried to shake off the feeling and just keep going.
It didn’t take long for me to begin speeding up. Every step was somehow more desperate than the last. As if getting to my campsite would somehow protect me from whatever was out there making the animals and creatures of the night afraid to make a sound.
By the time I could see the clearing where we camped rising in the distance, I was power-walking, nearly running. All of the sudden, the noises started back up again as if someone had flipped a switch or I had somehow stepped out of some invisible danger zone.
I paused and turned back to see if there was any physical sign of what had happened. If there was some creature lurking behind me or something but there was nothing. And nothing seemed to be even more unnerving.
It wasn’t until later, after everything was over that I realized how stupid it was for me to travel this trail by myself, let alone in the dark. I guess it was a combination of things that made me do it. First of all, just the disappointment of everyone nearly canceling at the last minute. Secondly was my surprise package that came on time and just wanting to use this cool new light in any way I could. But the really big thing that did it for me was my stubbornness. I had decided I was going camping come hell or high water.
I didn’t realize it would be the former.
It didn’t even register that I was heading out alone on a trail at night on October 30th, the day before Halloween. It didn’t take me long to get my tent set up and I didn’t bother with a fire. I just dove straight inside and zipped up the entrance, somehow believing that the thin layer of tent material would keep me safe from anything that went bump in the night.
I lay there on the bare tent floor, breathing hard in sheer terror, wondering why I was so frightened. There hadn’t been any tangible proof of anything following me. I had seen nothing. What had gotten me so worked up?
This is what I told myself over and over until my breathing slowed back to normal as I unpacked my backpack to settle in. Once I was secure in my sleeping bag, I finally dug out the book I’d brought along for the trip. It was a domestic thriller called, ‘Secrets’ about a woman whose life was turned upside down.
I turned on my light and began reading. It didn’t take me long to become so engrossed in the story that the world around me disappeared. That was when the adrenaline crash from the fear grabbed my face and said, “You’re going to sleep now.”
\*\*\*
Sometime later I woke and pulled my face out of the small puddle of drool that had soaked into my sleeping bag. I sat up, wiped my mouth, and stretched. To my great surprise, the book light was still on and I hadn’t broken it by laying on it. The darkness outside had given way to a dull grey. It must’ve been just before sunrise. Pulling myself out of the sleeping bag gave me an instant reminder of how cold Autumn mornings can be in the forest.
While pulling on my jacket, I froze. There was something or someone moving around just outside my tent. Zipping up my jacket quietly, I slid towards the zippered tent window in hopes of getting a closer look. My hands shook as I pulled the tab slowly hoping to make as little noise as possible and sneak a peek at whatever was out there.
My eyes slid up to the opening and peered out. All I could see through the slit was dim outlines of trees through the growing morning light. I scanned around as much as I could through my limited view when suddenly a pair of glowing eyes appeared in the window.
I screamed and threw myself backward onto my sleeping bag, landing with a thump that took my breath away. The shadow of the creature moved from the window to the main tent flap. I lay there helpless as the zipper undid itself and the hideous face of the monster poked itself inside.
It roared so loud I clamped my hands over my ears. My life flashed before my eyes as it slowly entered the tent growling and snarling.
Regret filled me. Why didn’t I wait for my friends? But then they would die with me. Maybe it was better they were late. They would find my horribly mutilated and possibly eaten body, but they might survive if they ran away.
As these thoughts chased each other around my brain, I noticed something.
The creature was wearing a sparkly bracelet.
Not only that but it seemed to have a manicure.
Now that I looked more closely, it was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.
I reached up and grabbed the creature’s face then ripped it off with all my might.
“Ouch!” it said as the fur came loose.
In a heartbeat, I was holding the creature’s face in my hand and Jolene stood there rubbing her ears.
“You think you could yank my ears off next time?” she said.
“Sure, after I’m done having a heart attack you jerk!”
She smiled, still rubbing her ears.
“Happy Halloween!”
“Screw you!” I said, throwing the mask at her and storming out of the tent.
“Wait, you’re not really mad are you?” I heard her say from behind me as I tromped down the trail.
I didn’t bother to turn, answer, or even slow down.
“Where are you going?” she said.
The thought registered in my head, but I couldn’t seem to answer the question. Where was I going? I was just stomping down the trail with no destination in mind. The sun was peeking over the horizon as I passed a clearing in the trees. Without thinking I slowed to a stop and stood there admiring the simple elegant beauty of the sunrise.
I heard and felt a presence beside me as I stared into the rising sun.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jolene said.
I turned to her and smiled.
“I should throw you off this cliff,” I said.
She took a step back, her eyes filled with uncertainty.
“Sucks, being afraid, doesn’t it?” I said.
“Yeah,” she said staying a healthy distance away from me. “I guess it does.”
“You know what you should do with that mask?” I said.
“I’m sure you have a few creative suggestions,” she said carefully.
I turned to her with a gleam in my eyes.
“You should scare the hell out of Dawn and Rose.”
Her look slowly transformed from fear to confusion as the edge of her lip slid up into a grin.
\*\*\*
It was late afternoon when Dawn and Rose came huffing and puffing up the hill to the campsite. I’d started a campfire and made some lunch. There was also some coffee brewing on the fire.
“Well, you two sure took your time,” I said, poking at the fire and adding another piece of wood.
“You’re lucky we came at all,” Dawn said. “I was going to call and cancel.”
“Like Jolene did?” I said, trying my best to sound upset and disappointed.
“Are you kidding me?” Rose said, dropping her backpack. “After we busted our butts to get up here?”
“’Fraid so,” I said.
“That’s great!” Dawn said, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. “You wait until I talk to her.”
I wasn’t sure if Jolene had silenced her phone or not. Dawn’s call could ruin the whole prank. My mind searched frantically for something to do.
“Don’t bother,” I said. “I already tried calling her this morning. It went straight to voicemail.”
“Humph,” Dawn said, putting her phone back in her pocket. “She’s probably snuggled up in bed, sleeping.”
“Well at least you two made it,” I said, pointing to the logs around the fire. “Take a load off.”
They looked at the log with disdain but shrugged and sat. I guess exhaustion will lower your standards regarding where you rest.
We chit-chatted for a while, mostly about how upset we were with Jolene for skipping out on us. Then I helped them set up their tents. We had just finished when off in the distance we heard a roar and a scream.
“What was that?” Dawn said, looking around trying to determine what direction it had come from.
“I don’t know,” I said, putting on an Oscar-level performance of looking frightened while trying not to smile. Jolene had outdone herself. She said she would look for roaring sounds on her phone, but that was so loud. I didn’t know her phone could get that loud.
Light was just beginning to fade, making it even harder to see if there was anything coming out of the trees towards us. Rose was having a full panic attack.
“What do we do, what do we do?” she said.
“Let’s just go in our tents and hope whatever it is doesn’t care about finding us,” I said.
“We should leave,” Rose said, her eyes darting all around searching for danger.
“I think so too,” Dawn said. “If there’s something out there it could come after us.”
I tried to do a quick pivot to save the prank.
“Where would we go?” I said. “Our cars are miles away. If that thing was after us it would stalk us on the trail too, and we wouldn’t have our tents made up to hide in.”
They looked at me with what looked like suspicion that turned into resignation.
“I guess you’re right,” Dawn said. “We should just go in our tents and hope that thing goes away.”
“Are you kidding me?” Rose said. “Why not just wrap ourselves in our sleeping bags and serve ourselves up as burritos for that thing?”
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” I said. “We don’t even know what that was. Maybe it was some animal calling for a mate.”
“And the scream?”
“Could be someone saw it and was scared.”
Dawn watched our back-and-forth conversation.
“Let’s just go to our tents,” she said.
“No,” Rose said. “I want to leave, right now.”
“There’s the trail,” I said, pointing. “No one’s stopping you.”
She looked from the trail to Dawn to me.
I turned and went into my tent. A few minutes later I heard another tent flap rustle, followed by a third. A smile crept across my face. This was going to be fun. I was so excited I barely read any of my book.
Within an hour I heard something outside the tent, rustling through the campsite and knocking things over.
“Here we go,” I whispered.
It was all I could do to stay in my tent when I heard Rose scream. There was no way I could watch Jolene chasing them around with that ridiculous mask on and not howl with laughter. I wanted to give the prank time for them to be scared before revealing our devious plan.
Fits of laughter fought to escape me, but I held them in as I heard Dawn's screams join the fray. From the sound, they were all running around destroying the campsite. Between the growls, running, knocking into things, and screams of terror, the whole cacophony of it was nearly impossible to sit through. Every inch of me was aching to jump out and yell, “Happy Halloween! We got you!”
After a few minutes, the noise died down. Everyone must’ve gotten tired. I was still waiting for the ‘aha moment’ when I heard Dawn or Rose curse at Jolene. The mask wasn’t that convincing once you calmed down and got a close look at it. Any minute now. I leaned close to the wall of my tent, but all movement had stopped. It was like everyone had just laid down and took a nap.
I couldn’t take it any longer, I ripped open my tent and jumped out, yelling, “Surprise! Happy Hallo… “
The rest of the word died on my tongue. The campsite wasn’t in disarray, it was destroyed. Both Dawn and Rose’s tents were flattened. As I stepped closer I saw rips and gouges in their tents as well.
As I looked around the campsite at the carnage, my first thought was, ‘Wow, Jolene really overdid it.’ But that thought didn’t hold for long. The more I moved through the camp, the more I saw claw marks and huge footprints, something that Jolene couldn’t do. All doubts ended when I came across Dawn.
She lay in a pool of blood and at first, I thought it was a trick. That they had turned Jolene back against me and now I was being pranked. However, that thought died a quick death when I saw Dawn’s severed arm lying a few feet from her.
Her eyes were wide open in shock. She looked at me with a blank stare of accusation and tried to whisper something, but I couldn’t hear it.
I leaned closer and she whispered again, her final words haunting me.
This couldn’t be Jolene. It wasn’t a trick or a prank. Something real had just invaded our camp and destroyed my friend.
Fear gripped me as I looked around to see if this creature was lying in wait to kill me too. As I searched the rest of the camp, hoping moment by moment that this thing was gone, I also didn’t find Rose. Eventually, I found a large pool of blood not far from her tent, but nobody was around. The trail of blood led from the pool off toward the woods, and I had no desire to follow it.
The next thought that came to my panicked mind was, ‘If this wasn’t Jolene, then where was she?’
She purposely didn’t tell me where she was hiding, so I wouldn’t unintentionally give away her position by glancing at a certain spot. It was a smart plan until she went missing and I have no idea what’s going on.
My next thought was calling for help but when I got out my phone I found it was also dead. Even though I didn’t want to, I went over to Dawn’s now-dead body and searched for her cell phone. But I found it in pieces.
There would be no call for help.
Despondency smothered me and pulled me to the ground. I sat in the middle of the campsite beside a pool of blood that used to be one of my friends, only a handful of feet away from the broken body that used to be another one of my friends, having no idea where my third friend was.
I’d never been in such a desperate place in my life, not only physically, but mentally, and I hoped I would never be in such a place again.
I had no idea what to do or where to go. The realization began to set in that I had lost three of my closest friends in the space of a day.
Tears flowed down my cheeks as I sat there in the growing darkness with only the embers of the dying fire to keep me company.
Should I sit here and hope that help would stumble by in the form of another hiker or even better, a park ranger? It was late October and the trails weren’t very well traveled once the weather turned cold.
As I sat there a gust of wind blew through tearing at the few remaining leaves clinging to their branches. They began to fall as if the forest was crying with me… or for me.
I wish I knew what the forest knew about this thing that had destroyed my friends and my life. About how I would get out of here alive and most of all about what had happened to Jolene. As much as I wanted to just sit there and mourn forever, I knew I couldn’t. I knew I had to get up and go figure this out.
How would I get out of here? How would I survive?
Maybe my tent held the key. By some miracle my tent was undamaged. I started digging through my backpack. There are always things in everyone’s backpack that they have for emergencies that never happen. Usually, it’s a snakebite kit, a length of rope, or bandaids that seldom if ever get used. But as I was digging, I came across some things that might be useful. There was a can of pepper spray and a small pocket knife. At this point, I was happy to have anything I could use as a weapon.
They went in my pocket along with the rope.
So now it was decision time. Do I pack up my stuff right now and leave, hiking down the trail in the dark, having no idea if this thing is still on the hunt? Or do I lay down and get some rest? Wait for morning and hope it doesn’t know I’m here.
Neither one was a great option. There was no way I could even consider burying Dawn. I didn’t have a shovel and I would need all my energy to hike back out of here if I hoped to survive. Thankfully, the decision was made for me. As I lay there, mind whirling from everything that had happened, I fell asleep.
\*\*\*
I woke hours later to a bright morning sun peeking through my open tent window. I yawned and stretched thinking about what a beautiful morning it could be when suddenly I remembered everything that had happened. That’s when I heard the growling.
It was just loud enough to get my attention. Fear gripped me as I tried to figure out what to do. My brain went into full useless mode as, ‘Run out of the tent screaming’ rose to the top of possible options.
The growling didn’t seem to get any closer as I lay there awaiting my fate. Encouraged by the fact that I hadn’t become the monster’s breakfast yet, I got up to my knees and quietly looked out the window.
What I saw disgusted and enraged me. There were two mountain lions having their breakfast. Normally I wouldn’t care about such a thing more than staying as far away as possible. But today, their breakfast was my friend’s dead body.
I did exactly what was at the top of my brain’s list: ran out of the tent screaming.
At first, I ran straight at them, hoping it would scare them off. They both just stopped and stared at me as if I were some rude interloper interrupting them having morning tea.
The next thing they did was turn and take a few steps toward me.
As I stared at their blood-soaked faces, I realized I had done the worst thing possible. I lowered my hands and started backing away, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. This seemed to encourage them to increase their pursuit. I was almost back to my tent, but it didn’t seem like diving inside and hiding was an option now. They were aware of me and very interested in me, possibly as lunch.
As my list of potential actions dwindled to, ‘Wait for death’, my hand brushed against my leg and I felt something in my pocket. It was the pepper spray. I pulled it out, having no idea if it even worked on cats, and aimed it at them.
They didn’t slow in the slightest. It looked like a stream of water sprayed out of the can and landed on the first cat’s face. Its reaction was immediate.
It let out a massive yowl and began clawing at its face. The second paused in confusion, watching its companion devolve into convulsions of pain. When it looked back at me, I had already sprayed its face, causing the same reaction.
For a long moment, I was treated to the insanely comical sight of these two predators twirling in circles, trying to claw their own faces off.
And then the impossible happened. They both decided breakfast wasn’t worth the cost of admission and ran off.
I looked down at this small, innocuous-looking spray can that had just saved my life. It was tempting to give it a kiss in celebration, but I didn’t want to take any chance of getting any spray on me. Writhing in pain wasn’t high on my list of things to do today.
Having just escaped death, I decided on my plan of action. My backpack was packed in under a half hour and I was on the trail, having said my goodbyes to Dawn and what was left of Rose.
A sharp pang of guilt stabbed me as I left the campsite. Dawn’s last whispered words haunted me, “Shouldn’t have come.”
She was right of course. If any of us had known what was about to happen there was no way we should’ve been here. But that’s the whole point of life I guess. None of us know what’s going to happen at any minute.
As if I wasn’t depressed enough as it was, that thought sent me into near panic as my eyes darted all around searching for danger. Now it wasn’t only the monster, but the mountain lions and any other creature whose home I had invaded. Right then I knew I would never visit this place again.
Even the woodland creatures were quiet out of respect for my fallen friends.
Wait… how would they know?
As if in answer, the monster stepped out onto the trail and stared down at me. It was massive. I’d never seen anything that tall. Not only was it tall, but its shoulders were a good five feet wide. It was covered in dark fur that had splotches of wet dark stains down the front of it. My mind told me that was all that was left of Rose.
It unleased a deafening roar that made a small river flow down my pantleg. My mind was like a little dog chasing its tail trying to figure out what to do.
As I stood there, frozen to the spot, it took two steps and was right in front of me.
When it reached for me, some basic survival mode kicked in and I went back to the last thing that had saved my life.
I whipped out the pepper spray and emptied the can in the monster’s face.
It reared back and screamed so loud I had to hold my ears as I ran around it and sprinted down the trail.
My heart was pumping adrenaline.
My feet barely touched the ground.
I had never run so fast in my entire life.
The trees were a blur as I wound back and forth along the trail.
All I could think was, ‘Just get away! Just get away!’
As hope soared that I might be able to do just that, I heard a noise coming from behind me. It was like a bulldozer with legs. I heard pounding and crashing as if something was destroying whatever got in its way. I glanced back and the monster was gaining on me. But it was flailing its arms around in front of it as if to protect its eyes from whatever was there.
That momentary distraction was just enough. My foot caught on a branch I wasn’t looking for and I went tumbling at full speed off the trail and into the brush. I hit a tree hard with my back. I was sure I heard a crack. It was all I could do just to stay conscious. I watched through bleary eyes as the monster ran past me on the trail.
There was no way I could celebrate or even move. Running so fast for so long had taken its toll. And now having fallen and possibly injuring my back had just added to my immobility.
It took me a few long moments to catch my breath. Once I did, I slowly moved body parts to make sure they still worked. I saved the worst for last. Trying to sit up caused pain to shoot down my back.
That wasn’t a good sign.
It seemed like I would be here for a little bit. At least until I recovered enough to make another try for my car. I knew it was less than a mile away, but right now I couldn’t even think about getting up to walk let alone run.
I painfully pulled my backpack off and sat it beside me. Next, I tried to cover myself and my pack with the loose leaves that blanketed the ground. Within ten minutes I was satisfied that no one would be able to see me from the trail without looking very closely.
There was a peephole I had left open to keep an eye on the trail. The monster would be back eventually, there was no doubt about that. Once it realized I wasn’t on the trail anymore it would backtrack looking for me.
Spraying it may have saved my life, but it also doomed me to be its enemy forever. It would search high and low to find me, I was as sure about that as anything.
Even though it was mid-morning, the trees here were dense and light had to filter through a lot of them to make it to the ground. Reaching into my pack. I pulled out my reading light, which was surprisingly still in one piece. I used it to check my wounds and found they were mostly cuts and scrapes.
As my adrenaline crashed, I could feel myself being once again dragged into unconsciousness. My eyes drooped, then suddenly shot open as I heard something. The part of the trail I could see through my peephole was quite small. I leaned to the left a little bit trying not to make any sound. That’s when I heard the sniffing and saw the monster coming slowly back up the trail. It was on all fours, smelling the ground.
One eye looked like it was swollen shut and the other was bloodshot. It got to the point in the trail where I had fallen and stopped then turned and looked right at me.
My blood turned to liquid nitrogen.
The monster stalked straight towards me as if it could see me plain as day. I glanced down and realized to my horror that my reading light was still on.
I panicked. If I turned it off, the monster would know I was there. If I left it on, it was a beacon leading it right to me. I gently pulled it from around my neck, trying to move it as little as possible. Once I had it off of me, I set it on top of my backpack so it was at the same level as it had been around my neck.
As I slid away from the pack, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the knife, then opened it.
The monster was so close I could smell the stench of death coming from its mouth. It got right up to the light and brushed the leaves away to see what this thing was.
There was only one shot for me to survive. I swung the knife with all the strength I had left, stabbing it in the eye that wasn’t swollen.
It reared back and screamed in pain.
I didn’t wait around to see what was going to happen. Every ounce of energy I had went to running away from this homicidal monster. My back screamed at me but I ignored it.
The creature screamed again, this time in rage rather than pain. It tore off after me, but couldn’t see so it ended up slamming into a tree three feet behind me.
My legs kept pumping, driven by sheer terror. As I glanced back I saw the monster listening to me run away. It followed my sounds and ran after me again. I pivoted and ran up the side of the trail just in time for it to miss me and fall face-first on the trail.
It wasn’t far to the trailhead now. I knew it was getting close. There was a hard turn in the trail where I had to be careful of my footing. It was narrow and there was a steep drop that ended in a river far below.
I ran to where the turn was and suddenly stopped. The monster had gotten up and was listening for me again. It was a gamble, but I stood at the turn and jogged in place as though I was still running away.
It listened, then launched itself toward me. As soon as it began to run, I quietly stepped around the corner and softly walked down the trail a few feet. If my gamble paid off, I would be home free. If it didn’t, I’d be dead.
Time slowed as the beast galloped towards the turn. I watched and waited until finally, I saw the bloody fur of its face with the knife still sticking out.
At the last moment, it seemed to sense me around the corner and tried to turn, but momentum had already carried it past me and it had no chance of staying on the trail.
I leaned over and watched as it fell helplessly over the edge and tumbled down to the water below, hitting its head on several trees as it went.
It had just come to rest at the bottom when I took off running. The trailhead loomed in front of me and I didn’t want to take any chances of that thing recovering and catching me before I got to my car.
I’d never seen a more beautiful sight than my beat-up Toyota Corolla.
When I approached it, I paused yet again and looked around for who or what might be watching me.
Hanging from my driver’s side mirror was the mask Jolene had worn. I took it off the mirror and looked at it in shock and confusion. Inside was a note.
There was a crash from the woods that told me the monster hadn’t given up. I jumped in the car, threw the mask on the passenger’s seat, and broke every speed law getting out of the park. Even once I was on the main road, I pushed the pedal down to make the car go as fast as it could. My speedometer needle was vibrating when I hit eighty. It wasn’t until I was close to home that I slowed down.
I got out and went into my tiny house, bringing the mask. I collapsed on the couch as my back complained. I would have to schedule an appointment with my chiropractor.
Once I was safely inside, I picked up the mask and pulled out the note.
It read, ‘I’m sorry to leave without telling you. The girls were coming up the trail and I was about to jump out at them when I saw this monster following them through the woods. I couldn’t warn them or you without the monster seeing. When they set up their tents, it was watching from the edge of the woods. I panicked and quietly left while it was busy watching the camp. I hope you’re alive to read this and if so you can someday forgive me. – J’
I lay the note beside me on the couch and all I could think of as tears streamed down my cheeks was Dawn’s final words to me.
“Shouldn’t have come.”
| https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17aye6e/i_went_on_a_halloween_hiking_trip_with_my_friends/ | nosleep | Horror_writer_1717 |
false | When I was a young man, I was cursed. This is how I survived. | When I was a young man, I was cursed.
I don’t know how, or by who. I don’t know if it was an accident or a deliberate attempt at ruining my life, and at this point, I doubt I ever will. I don’t know which one would be worse. In the end, I guess it doesn’t matter.
I’m seventy-six years old now. I was born in a mid-sized town in a mid-sized county into a mid-sized family. I was a good kid. As good as anyone else, I guess. People weren’t as good then as they are now, though, but I hardly see that as being my fault. But sometimes I’ve wondered If I ever did harm someone badly enough for them to curse me; if I was the villain in someone’s story.
But I don’t know what that something or who that someone could have been. I did my schoolwork, I played baseball, I hung out with my friends. Normal stuff. But when I was seventeen, something changed. Something sinister entered my life. I keep thinking back to that time, and if there was something I missed. Something I’d done, or someone had done unto me. But as is often the case, the roots are buried somewhere beneath, out of sight. Just under our footsteps, never in front of us.
I began to see shadows where there weren’t none. Sometimes they were in the windows, blocking the sunlight like an ephemeral fog. Other times they rose up into dark and thin creatures in the distance, like sprouting trees. Those same shadows started to invade my dreams, and I’d wake up in a cold sweat with my hands in taut fists, the fingernails digging deep into my palms.
And when I couldn’t sleep - or sometimes outright refused to - they began to walk on our rooftop. I’d hear their steps; up and down, around and over, like they were playing hide and seek. I wondered how shadows could make footsteps. Often I wrapped a pillow around my head to drown them out. But the tighter I pulled the pillow, the harder they stomped. My parents nor my siblings never heard a peep.
After a while, I entered a state of constant drowsiness, which quickly reflected on my day-to-day life. I couldn’t concentrate at school, as I would sleep through all my classes. Those noisy classrooms were busy enough to grant me some peace from those things. They couldn’t do much in large crowds. Those were the only times when I could sleep peacefully. Have a break.
Soon I didn’t have the energy to play sports or hang out with friends anymore. My friends, along with my parents, asked me questions I had no answers to. Had I started taking drugs? Hanging out with the wrong people? Gotten some illness? Funnily enough, nowadays I feel like all my symptoms pointed to depression, but in those days the word was used purely in its economic context. Nowadays it’s easier to talk about such things, but back then, there was no way - I’d be sent to the loony bin in a quick second. And a padded, isolated room sounded like a death trap. Probably would’ve been, in a very literal sense.
As often as I could I’d sneak out of the house at night and try to get into any of the local bars. Seeing as they were deterred - or at least somewhat incapacitated - by large groupings of people, incidentally, bars were the only places during the night which granted me that veil of protection. Sometimes I got in, oftentimes not. If they shooed me away, it was a long and anxious walk back home. They’d gotten closer and closer. More familiar. More… *brave*. I saw them climb around fences and up on the roofs of buildings, just staring at me. Sometimes I ran home.
But there was one bar that let me in pretty much every time. It was quite a long walk away, but the owner, Andy, was a good guy. The first time I went there, as I went to order a beer, I could see that he was about to tell me to take a hike; I never looked old for my age. But when he looked at me, I mean *really* looked at me, something in his mannerism seemed to change. Maybe it was the bags under my eyes or the defeated posture I held, but I like to think that Andy thought that wherever I’d go back to would be worse than there in that bar. So Andy let me stay.
The establishment itself was, I guess, what you would call a dive-bar. To get into the semi-basement, you had to walk down these uneven concrete steps that also functioned as an impromptu outdoors urinal, giving them a consistently wet, ammonia-marinated quality. All the windows were small and high up the walls, showing a curbside view of people’s feet as they walked past. Inside was the bartable itself, lackluster in choices of drink, and around the room were round wooden tables and an array of different kinds of chairs, no two of which were the same kind. In its own way, it was kind of cozy.
I couldn’t always make the trip. The walk was too long, and filled with too many shadows. But I tried as often as I could. But every time I did go, Andy had saved me a seat. When it was quiet, usually during the early evening or late-late night, we’d get to talking. Just small talk about something funny that had happened at the bar, or how the weather was looking. It was nice to get to do something normal, to feel some connection to humanity again.
After a few weeks I’d developed a new routine. I’d sleep at school, and I’d head over to Andy’s as quickly as I could, before the dark set in. Andy wouldn’t serve me alcohol, but he went through the trouble of giving me apple juice in a whisky glass, to give the right appearance, I guess. I stayed even after Andy kicked everyone else out, and I helped him clean up. We’d walk out together, but once he was out of view, heading to his place on the other side of town, I’d sprint back home. When the streets were empty and the light was low, I’d hear them whispering. From alleyways and under broken street lamps I could see their elongated forms taking shape, but I never looked long enough to see their full form. Somehow I knew that if I did, that’d be it. My end.
I started bringing some of my school books with me to do just enough homework so I wouldn’t fail my classes. Even with the faux whiskey, I must’ve looked out of place, but no one ever gave me trouble. I think Andy had something to do with that.
One night me and Andy were talking, and he said he had something important to tell me. He never had anything important to say, which was a trait that served him well as a bartender. I was sure he was going to tell me I was no longer welcome, that it wasn’t good for him to host some stray kid every night. But the truth was much worse.
“Donnie, listen,” he began, his voice entirely devoid of his regular bartender’s joviality. “I’m moving.”
“Moving where?” I asked, hoping that he simply meant he’d move to a new apartment; and maybe he’d need to close earlier or start charging more; or maybe he’d found a new bar, something closer to me perhaps; or *something*.
“Connecticut. I’m leaving.”
I couldn’t believe it. Or, I *could*, but I knew that without Andy and his bar I’d be shit out of luck. I needed this place. It was the only thing keeping me safe. And although I wished Andy nothing but the best of the best, what came out of my mouth was “You can’t leave.”
He sighed and put down the scratched glass he’d been drying so long the act had evolved into futile polishing.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. All my family’s there, and now my dad’s sick. I need to go there and help out. I’m sorry.”
And I believed him. But I *needed* him.
“Where am I supposed to go, Andy?” I asked him. “What will I do without you?”
“Go home,” he said, then sighed again, this time with utter defeat in his voice. “Look, I know that there’s some reason you’re out here every night. Things must be hard for you at home, and I’ve never asked you why. That’s your business, and I respect that. But you’re gonna be eighteen soon, so I strongly advise you to get the hell outta dodge. Leave. Find some job, and make your own life.”
Tears began to well in my eyes. “I can give you some cash, if you need it,” he said.
“It’s not that,” I said, as I wiped the tears on my sleeve with quick swoops. “It’s…”
“What? C’mon, you can tell me,” he said, with slight agitation in his voice. He put the glass in a cupboard behind him, slamming it down harder than he needed to.
And as the myriad ways in which I could explain what I was going through tumbled through my mind, one obvious and concrete idea seemed to come up more than others. I hadn’t thought to put it into words before, but this particular word was, in all its ridiculousness, perfect.
“I’m cursed, Andy,” I said.
For a moment it seemed like he stopped breathing, and his eyes looked as if they were assessing me in the same way he assessed his real-whiskey-drinking patrons for signs to cut them off.
“Cursed?” he finally answered.
And that was enough acknowledgement for me to spill my guts out. I told him everything, and when I was done, I felt embarrassed, *crazy*, even, but also a little bit lighter. Andy was quiet for a while after that. I dared not look at him. I wanted him to process what I’d told him, give him the chance to make up his mind on his own. I mean, it was a ludicrous idea, and anything more I’d say would probably only strengthen any disbelief he held. So I let him stir.
He began to do his final rounds, putting chairs back under the tables and checking the locks. I was sure he’d had enough - he was finally kicking me out; sniffed out my bullshit; realized that I’ve been pulling his leg all this time.
He stood by the door with the keys to the bar in his hand, looking at me.
“Show me,” he said.
\-
I didn’t even know if I could show him, if the curse was a purely subjective one, or if others really could see those dark shadows lurking. But I had to try, so I walked outside without saying a word, and he followed, locking the door behind us.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said. “All the way.”
And so we began to walk.
At first they seemed reluctant to come forth, and for once when I needed them, they wouldn’t show. Maybe they were smart like that. We walked for almost half of the trip without saying a word, and with nothing at all happening. Andy kept looking around, but his swiveling head began to turn less and less, until he was simply staring forward with a disappointed and worried look on his face.
With no less than a quarter mile from home, I saw it.
It was standing on the slanted rooftop of a fancy, midwest-modern home. It seemed to emerge from the darkness of night itself, its features diminished and visible only by the aura of faint streetlamps. But it was there. Its body stood at least nine feet tall, with long, sharp arms that seemed to drag on well below its knees. Its face was blurred, but I knew it was looking at me. My legs screamed in agony for permission to run. But they stalled. I had to stall. This was my last chance.
Andy walked a few feet in front of me until he realized I was no longer by his side. He turned towards me with palpable confusion. When I looked at him I realized my eyes were strained from how unnaturally open I’d kept them, with teardrops forming at their edges. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I simply looked at the rooftop again and asked him “Do you see it?”
I’m not sure if I was relieved or death-scared when he simply said “Yes.”
\-
Without a word, we began to run.
I led the way towards my house, and I could hear behind me how Andy’s breathing became ragged and malformed. Glancing back at him, I could see his legs detouring slightly as he strained his head to look at each and every rooftop and shadow with sheer fright. There were more, now. And even though Andy was obviously having trouble keeping up - he wasn’t the athletic type - with him by my side I could keep my own mind clear. Home wasn’t far, and it was much better to do this with someone else, even if I felt terribly scared that Andy had contracted the curse as well.
Finally, we stopped on the opposite street to my house and I said “We’re here,” as I pointed at my house.
Andy sat down on the curb. He was breathing so hard that for a moment I thought he might die.
“C’mon. You can come inside. Let’s go, Andy,” I said. We hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary for the last stretch of our run, but that left me with the gnawing uncertainty of them catching up.
Andy’s breathing finally normalized enough for him to speak. “That’s your parent’s house, yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“And they’re home?”
“Yeah. C’mon, let’s go, Andy. They’ll catch up.”
“And how do we explain you coming home with a pudgy middle-aged man in the morning?”
That was a fair question, and one with no obvious good answer. But I didn’t care. The explaining was going to be better than sitting here, waiting for those things to catch up to us.
“We’ll pretend I snuck out to drink at your bar, and you ID’d me and found out I was underage, so you brought me home to tell my parents,” I said hurriedly.
Andy got up and said “That’s not going to work for a number of reasons.”
“But —”
“Listen,” he said, his voice shedding off the fringes of fright to make way for something serious. Andy looked around the rooftops and the shadowy lawns, giving an extra second or two to evaluate the long road behind us. Then he turned to me and clasped my face between his hands, which had thick calluses that scratched at my cheeks.
“I believe you. You’re cursed. I thought you were just making it up, but as we ran here, I thought about it and what it means. I know you’re not lying. Now, we probably don’t have much time, and I’m not coming inside your house, so you need to listen to me very carefully.”
He let go of my face and I nodded, giving him my full attention.
“Do you know where or how you got it from? The curse?” he asked.
“No. No idea.”
“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked. I didn’t understand how that was so important. At that moment, to me, it was like the universe: it was there and we were in it regardless of where it came from or who had made it.
“I’m sure,” I said.
“*Shit*… okay,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to look at the street. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna give you some cash, and tomorrow you’ll use it to buy yourself a bus ticket. Anything that’s cheap and will take you as far away from here as possible. With the rest of the money, rent a motel room. Again, as cheap as you can find. Stay there and see how long it takes for them to catch up. Figure out how it works. Find odd jobs to get yourself more money, and buy another bus ticket if you need to. You figure it out and you make a plan, okay?”
Something broke inside of me then. Andy voiced the ultimatum I knew to be true, but didn’t want to accept.
“But I need to graduate and —”
“If you stay here you won’t graduate. You won’t get that far. You need to figure this out, and to do that, you need to move around. Learn how it works. Otherwise you’ll be putting yourself and those close to you in danger.”
“And how would you know that?” I said, the words coming out as near-screams.
“I don’t,” he confessed. “But you said it’s gotten worse over time, yes? That you can barely function at school, and you don’t even see your friends anymore? And now, you’ve been staying almost every night at the bar for what, a *month*?”
I nodded. Even if I wasn’t aware of it, I was already running from them. Staying at Andy's every night was proof of that.
“So it’s safe to assume it’s only going to get worse,” he continued. “And if you have no idea how you got this curse, then you’ve got no options but try and figure it out. And once I’m gone you’ll be alone at night. Think about that! I don’t know how it would end, but it won’t be good. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah. I understand.”
He pulled out his wallet and with shaking hands grabbed everything he had in the bill-slot and gave it to me. There was at least two hundred dollars. I pocketed the wad of bills.
“Go home. And when you can, go get the bus ticket. The earlier the better. Figure it out. You’re strong, Donnie. You can do it.”
The first slivers of light began to play in the horizon. I was about to say something to Andy, but all I can remember coming out of my mouth was nonsense; words of gratitude and fright and pleading melted into a sobbing mess of gibberish. I must’ve been shaking, because Andy, even though he shook as well, grabbed my sides and stabilized me. He looked me in the eyes and said “Good luck, Donnie.”
And I turned to go home. Andy walked hurriedly towards the rising sun.
The next day, I did exactly as he told me. I went to get a bus ticket. I told the lady at the desk to give me the cheapest long-distance ticket she had. I never said goodbye to my parents. I never saw my friends again.
\-
The first year was the hardest, but it taught me some valuable lessons - lessons which served me well for the rest of my life.
1. It took them around two months to catch up. Although this made no sense to me, I had to accept it as it was. Curses don't abide by natural law. And it coincided with Andy’s theory, which, in my mind, gave it more validity. I doubted that the shadows used buses and roadmaps to find me, but maybe it was something more psychological. Like they wouldn’t let me settle down. They’d tear down whatever life I tried to build, forcing me to abandon it before it even really got started. A false sense of security.
2. Post offices, construction, and restaurants were the best for odd jobs. They always needed workers, and it wasn’t unusual for them to have people come in and out. At the very least, I could get some money to sustain myself.
3. No relationships. One time I got mixed up with this girl, and when she started to see the shadows, I had to leave her. I felt so bad for her, but what else could I have done? This curse was infectious, it seemed. It was smart and deliberate.
There are a thousand other rules and regulations I made for myself, but those three, set in the first year, truly saved my life. Like Andy had told me, I’d figured it out, and I’d gotten good at it. And I guess I got used to it. The life, I mean. It was different, and very lonely, but it was a life. And I got to see a lot of stuff because of the constant traveling. Silver-linings and all that.
\-
That was all so long ago now. The first year turned to the first few, and then I hit the ten-year mark, then twenty, and so on. The date I had left my hometown replaced my birthday. It was more important. It was my calendar, my sun, and my compass, by which I regulated my life.
I got so good at it that I almost completely stopped seeing them. I could evade the curse’s corporeal form just before it manifested. Sometimes I’d think it had stopped, and I spent too long in one place. Then they caught up to me, and I was once again reminded of the curse. But I got better and better. So much better that now it’s been twenty years without seeing them. The twenty years before that proved to me that they wouldn’t go away.
So, yes. I hadn’t seen them in a long time. So long that I began to forget what they looked like. What they felt like. Until now, which is why I’m writing this story for you all, which is why I can once again recall their form and their movements. But now it’s worse than ever.
\-
Old age has taken its toll, and I'm unable to run from them no longer. I’m sure my unorthodox lifestyle didn’t do me any favors either. Never having a home. Someone to come home to.
I regret it all so much. I miss my parents, who are long dead - I found out on the internet some years ago. On the obituary, where they write *missed by such and such*, I wasn’t included. I guess that makes sense. I miss Andy, the man who saved my life, but I hate him so much for it. Now I wish I had stayed. Graduated. I wish I’d told someone, tried seeking help, even if they couldn’t provide it. At least my parents would’ve known what took their son. My friends could have visited me in the mental asylum, or attended my funeral.
But now I’m stuck. I’m too old to run. So, after all these years of cat-and-mouse, they’ve caught up to me.
I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I decided that if I’m to die, I wish it to be somewhere fancy. It took a lot of my savings, but money don’t matter anymore. I don’t have a will, either. Who would I give my money to, anyway?
They’re all around me now. They creep in the shadows, and stir me awake just as I’m about to fall asleep. They torture me in these diabolical ways, yet they don’t attack my person. It’s like they want to take their time with me. I guess after all this time, as they’ve finally caught their prey, they wish to make me suffer. Take their sweet time with me. They’re no longer afraid of the light. Of crowds. I see them everywhere. Behind the young man at the lobby who gave me my key. Crawling on the ceiling of my room. Behind the windows, scratching at the glass in long, searing streaks.
Their pointed, long tongues scrape at the wooden furniture. Their long arms slither like snakes under my bed, leaving rusted stains on the carpet. Their bodies, made of gnawed, dark flesh, taunt me as they walk around the room. And their faces, oh *God*, their faces, like charcoal, with the sharp teeth of a shark, they stare at me, their bloodshot eyes round and unblinking.
And soon they will take me. I’m sure of it.
This is my goodbye. To nobody and to everyone. I never found out how I’ve come upon this curse, but I’ve fought it the only way I could.
If you ever happen upon a curse like mine, do not run.
Face it.
It’s better to love until the end than to wither away in desolation.
| https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17arn8p/when_i_was_a_young_man_i_was_cursed_this_is_how_i/ | nosleep | Adomanzius |
false | I did a bad thing, but I don't deserve this. | My husband is an executive at a thriving advertising agency so it’s not like we needed the money. I do it purely for fun. I don’t have any kids, so I need something to fill my days. I’m what you would call a ‘porch pirate.’ I get a total buzz taking other people’s packages and then tearing off in my white BMW.
It’s a huge adrenalin rush ripping open the cardboard packaging wondering what’s inside. I’ve taken everything from a slow cooker to a top-of-the-range laptop. I guess it’s stealing but I tell myself they’ll get a refund so I’m not hurting anyone… until now that is.
See, there’s this guy who lives directly opposite us. His house is the best on the block. He keeps himself to himself. I’ve only ever spoken to him once in the five years we’ve lived here and that was only small talk about the weather which he duly ignored.
He’s a bit creepy with cold, empty eyes and has a strange demeanor about him. We call him ‘The Collector’ because he has packages delivered most days. Many have exotic-looking postage stamps suggesting the packages are from all over the globe.
I’ve wanted to get my hands on one of his deliveries for as long as I can remember. I’ve even fantasized about it. Picturing myself with a broad grin as I tear it open. Until now it had remained a fantasy. ‘The Collector’ has a doorbell camera that has prevented me from getting my hands on his stuff.
A few minutes ago, I saw him cuss as he removed the rechargeable battery and then hurled it in the air before driving off. I figured he had gone to the store to get a new one.
Wouldn’t you know it mere moments after he left, a package was plonked on his porch by a guy who looked like he had just swallowed a wasp’s nest. To say he looked miserable would be disingenuous to the word.
As I eyed the package through my kitchen window, I knew this was the chance I had been waiting for, it was like all my Christmases had come at once. I raced across his front lawn in record time. The package was on my kitchen counter before you could blink.
My heart trembled. There were butterflies in my stomach. My hands trembled with excitement as I used a kitchen knife to open the sturdy box. I had not been this excited since my wedding day.
My cobalt blue eyes burst with anticipation as the steel blade hacked through the thick packaging. I carefully removed all the cardboard and was left with a circular object covered in gauze. I suspected it was an antique vase or bowl only to discover to my horror it was a severed head!
I screeched like an animal about to be slaughtered as I recoiled in horror at the grizzly sight. The look of fear on the face of the poor person who met such a violent end will haunt me until the day I die. Which I figured might not be too long as my doorbell just rang and when I looked through the peephole I saw those same cold, empty eyes peering back at me. It’s ‘The Collector’ looking to collect.
He must have seen me on his way back from the store. I’ve called the cops, but I figure ‘The Collector’ will be the first one through my door thanks to the huge ax he is wielding. I cannot hear any approaching sirens, just the sound of my front door being turned into Kindle. So I guess you'll probably never hear from me again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17au3e4/i_did_a_bad_thing_but_i_dont_deserve_this/ | nosleep | gazrow |
false | Explored an abandoned hospital, I think we found a patient. | A few friends and I were bored one night, looking for something to do. One of my more “adventurous” friends Liam said he knew a spot and that we should go check it out together. Me and the others knew he was interested in exploring abandoned places, as he’s in some group online where they share cool abandoned places they’ve found, so we expected to be dragged along to a random old skate park or something.
He had coordinates for the place he wanted us to go to, so we all chipped in to catch a cab to a gas station that was nearby. Liam stayed rather cryptic about where we were going, not saying what the place actually is and instead just scrolling on his phone throughout the whole cab ride there. He was the only one in the group that I didn’t really know, as he was a friend of a friend.
When we finally got to the gas station, we realised we had to trek through a woodland to get to this abandoned place ,that Liam still didn’t disclose any information about. It was only around 9pm and not too dark at that time, so we just decided to keep going and see what we find. To say that the woods were eerie is an understatement, I constantly felt like I was being watched from one place or another, but there’s not much else to expect when walking through a forest at night.
We all had fun scaring and jumping at eachother for the 10 minutes that we had to walk through the woods, until the trail finally ran clear and led to a tall white building. It was obvious that the building is a hospital, or was at one point. The paint was peeling and the bricks were chipped, with ivy crawling up and covering the walls. It was mostly demolished, but there was still structure to the building, making it look like a set from a low budget horror movie. We all pulled out our phones and used the flashlight to guide our way, before stepping inside. Graffiti covered almost every inch of the cracked walls, clearly it was a common spot for people to come. The further we walked into the building, the more wet and damp the building came. Pools of murky green water covered the floor, patches of mud covering it too.
After walking around for about 25 mins, getting deeper and deeper into the building, we realised we had forgotten what way we came. Each corridor stretched for ages, most rooms looking identical, it can’t be that hard to get out of a rectangle building though, right? We were all still mostly calm, knowing we can just choose a direction and keep going that way. We all decided to just keep walking straight, and that eventually we would get out. After another 10 minutes of sticking to that plan, it seemed we had made no progress and that we were just walking further into the building. Our phones had no reception and our map apps weren’t getting a location, due to no signal. The graffiti had mostly stopped at this point, and we would only see a bright scribble every few meters now. We were starting to subtly panic, and everyone but Liam had an anxious expression on their faces.
After another 5 minutes of aimlessly walking, we stopped, thinking of where we went wrong. An argument throughout the group broke out, as we had been stuck in an abandoned hospital for about 90 minutes and couldn’t find a way out. Halfway through the shouting match, I heard a cough coming from what seemed to be a few meters away. We all immediately turned silent as we stared at each other in shock. Liam started laughing, so we just assumed it was a joke he was pulling or something dumb like that.
Just a minute after the cough, we heard someone humming, loudly. We all immediately started sprinting back the way we came without a word. I could hear the humming become louder, as if it was following us as we ran. I tried my hardest to run faster than ever, but my long, uncoordinated legs went too far forward or something and I face planted right into one of the mud piles. I reached out to my buddy for help but he just kept running, so I scrambled back onto my legs and ran in the same direction, my vision mostly blurred from the thick mud and stagnant water. After a few minutes of silent sprinting, we slowed down and slumped into a random room in the corridor. My friends were laughing while I was panting, using my hoodie to wipe the mud off my face and arms. They all took the situation as a joke, while one of my friends and I were genuinely scared.
After catching our breaths, someone suggested we just follow the graffiti back to the entrance. Most of our phones had died at this point, and we only had one left as a flashlight with only about 15% battery. After another hour or so of following the graffiti we finally made it back to the entrance. At this point, it was 1am and we were so done. We made it through the woods, even a twig snapping would make us all jump.
We called a cab and everyone slept over at mine, as it was closest and ion all fairness, no one really wanted to be alone that night.
We still don’t know what that humming or coughing was, but we all heard it and knew we weren’t imagining it. It’s safe to say none of us have been to any abandoned places since. | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17ayxs7/explored_an_abandoned_hospital_i_think_we_found_a/ | nosleep | loorat |
false | Be Careful About Which Orders You Take on Delivery Apps (Part 3) | Part 1: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1776lep/be\_careful\_about\_the\_orders\_you\_deliver\_on/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1776lep/be_careful_about_the_orders_you_deliver_on/)
Part 2: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17a0lwh/be\_careful\_about\_which\_orders\_you\_take\_on/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17a0lwh/be_careful_about_which_orders_you_take_on/)
There was a different person at the gas station. A rough looking older guy with a big greying beard.
He nodded and smiled at me, “Poor Anthony couldn’t make it.”
I said nothing, took the bag. It felt like I was carrying a bomb.
The old man said something I don’t remember, laughed loudly as I shambled out.
I peeked inside, caught a glimpse of Anthony’s face on a medal like the other package, but there was a different gruesome surprise inside. Wrapped in paper, I caught a glimpse of a medical bag filled to the brim with something red. It was obvious what it was, but even now here I am speaking in abstractions, unable to face it. I drove for five minutes before I had to pull over and hurl. Still retching, I sped to the house. I sprinted to the door, heard stomping footsteps coming from upstairs when I put down the bag, and I was already speeding around the corner before the door opened.
A cop car followed me right on my ass until the first set of lights off the ramp.
I drowned myself in some of the alcohol I had bought in my spending binge the other day.
Just a few more days, I decided. Just enough money to escape, one more week and... then I’d run.
I hadn’t met with trouble as long as I just did what they said, so...
It dawned in me then that I hadn’t seen any other orders pop up at all. Not that I had taken any others, but... I tried to remember the last time I saw a normal order, couldn’t remember. Maybe once they had me, they blocked the normal orders. It made sense that the developers of the app were involved, or at least somebody on the inside.
The next night, another bag, a new face on the medal, another bundle of fingertips and fingernails. Thought the girl on the medal’s face seemed vaguely familiar, and it wasn’t until I pulled up to the house that I placed her as the girl I had seen in the back of the ghost car when the cop pulled me over.
Holy shit...
A police car was parked in the driveway, the only vehicle that time. Why the fuck didn’t they just deliver it themselves? Why? Was this just a sick game to fuck with me?
When I hastily went to put the package down, the door swung open the moment I let go. I jumped back.
Nobody was there in the doorway. It was my first really good view of the entrance. It looked like the lobby of a hospital. A light came from the entrance to the hallway on the other side. I turned down, slowly, my gut tensing.
Someone was laying on the floor. The girl that had first answered the door, spread out limply. Her eyes were glassy.
I thought she was dead, but when something thumped behind her, shaking the whole floor, she sputtered up a bit of blood.
I turned up to the source of the thump, saw something huge, a dark shape, seated in a chair in the hallway outside the entryway. The figured covered in the tarp was rocking in the seat, left and right, dragging the chair forward, then it stopped... it was stirring underneath, began to stand up.
I quickly leaped away on all fours like a deer running from a wolf, the girl’s gurgling laughter echoing through the night until I slammed my car door shut.
I was paid the next day like usual. I had 4500$ total to my name. It might have been enough to get me away and get a rough start somewhere else.
I delivered again that night, so they wouldn’t suspect anything. Nobody (or nothing) came to the door that time, luckily. I had already packed up anything I might need, withdrew my money from the bank. I drove around aimlessly for about an hour, to shake off any would be pursuers.
When I was absolutely sure nobody was following me, I started to head down a backroad that would take me out of province.
I remember I started to cry. I could be free.
My phone rang, the number was unknown.
I didn’t answer it.
It rang again.
Again.
Again.
Again...
I hit answer on my radio screen.
Instantly, the person on the other end hung up.
I kept driving, ignored my sinking heart, ignored the fact that all hope being drained from me.
It rang again! Unceasingly. I had a few texts. I cursed and let the car roll to a stop, picked up my phone.
I squeeze it so hard it nearly broke. Another set of photos. Of a house. But it wasn’t my house.It was my dad’s house.
Those bastards... those fucking bastards! Rage mingled with my terror, but in the end fear swamped it over.
“I wouldn’t leave if I were you, Robert.”
You have a duty.
You need to do this, don’t you see?
For yourself.
For your father.
For me.
Tomorrow, it will truly begin.
Tomorrow, we need you on your best behavior.
Tomorrow, and from now on.
Don’t disappoint me, Robert.
Your friend, Nick.”
I drove back in the depths of despair.
My father lived out of the province, alone. How did they find him? What were they going to do? I imagined my father’s fingertips in one of those bags, or a sack of his blood, or God knows what.I put the pedal to the floor and sped home.
There was no escape.
They had me.
[Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17bybo2/be_careful_about_which_orders_you_take_on/) | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17b5hmz/be_careful_about_which_orders_you_take_on/ | nosleep | William77White |
false | I got a strange call last night. I think my life is in danger. | 3AM. There I was, laying in bed. Not sleeping, of course - insomnia's a bitch, and there ain't much you can do about it. I've suffered from it, on and off, for my entire adult life. My teenage years as well, now that I think about it. One thing I've learned, laying there with your eyes closed in bed - it's not as restful as actual sleep, and it can be pretty boring, but it'll help a little, with the exhaustion the next day. But trouble sleeping was the least of my concerns, that night.
I got a phone call, which was more than a bit odd - some of my friends are still out at this hour, but I don't usually get calls this late. Or this early, take your pick. The number was unfamiliar, so I refused the call. Probably a misdial, I thought. A few moments later, it rang again - same number. I shook my head - probably one of those so-called friends, maybe they lost their phone, had to borrow another? I had no clue, but resigned, I picked up.
The voice on the other end was unfamiliar... it was a woman's voice, and a particularly gentle one. With a tdistinct ring of urgency, she spoke: "Please, whatever you do, don't hang up. You don't know me, but I promise you, I only want to help." I was confused, but as I opened my mouth, I heard a gentle knock at my bedroom door. Fear immediately took hold - somebody was in my apartment. I started to reach for the revolver in my bedside table, but the woman spoke again. "Don't answer the door. It can't get in, if it's locked." Ignoring her, I grabbed my gun. As I stood up, she spoke again, louder, more urgently: "Don't unlock your door - please! I promise you, everything will be fine, but you absolutely mustn't let it in!" The knock repeated, a bit louder this time, and I found myself hesitating. The woman on the phone breathed a sigh of relief, and my anxiety started to grow. I hadn't said anything, yet, so why was she relieved?
"I know it doesn't make any sense - and I know you don't have any reason to listen to me. But no matter what, I promise you that you will be okay, if you just listen to my instructions." I finally responded to her, and asked "Who are you? What's going on?" Not the most creative line of questioning, but she answered. "I'm a friend. And - you would never believe me, I'm sorry to say. Nobody ever does. But sometimes they listen, and when they do, they make it to the end, they survive - so please, please don't hang up, and whatever you do, don't unlock your door." As she spoke, she seemed on the verge of tears. Again, I opened my mouth to reply - this time, the knock on the door was booming, the sound of a fist slamming against the thin, hollow wood. I stepped back, and lifted my gun, aiming for the door. I was sweating heavily, my heart pounding in my chest - the air felt thick, and I wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger. And then, all at once, it stopped. I wasn't afraid, or even anxious. The woman on the phone, a bit less tense, said "It's gone for now. It will come back, and when it does, you must not open the door." I started to ask another question, but she interrupted me. "You left your front door unlocked. Go and lock it now, please."
I stepped warily towards my bedroom door, and hesitated for a moment before unlocking it. My apartment seemed... untouched. I knew I could not have imagined the slamming on my door, but not a single thing was out of place. My initial hypothesis - that it was some sort of psychotic burglar - started to feel less plausible. "The front door." the woman reminded me - I put my gun down on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, still holding the phone in my left hand, and moved towards the door. As I reached for it, I suddenly heard footsteps - fast, loud, rushing and getting closer. The woman, for the first time, shouted "LOCK IT! HURRY! EVEN ONE WILL DO!" I heard a hand grab the handle on the other side of the door, just as I slid the bolt in place. Outside, something snarled... and knocked, gently, on my front door. I turned the lock in the handle as well, and took a step back. "You did it... you're fine... it can't get in now. Please, don't leave your apartment until morning."
The woman hung up almost immediately after, and I was left, alone, to think about what I'd heard. I returned to my room, collecting my revolver - I decided to leave it on my nightstand, rather than to put it back in the drawer, and incredibly, I fell asleep soon after. When I woke up, it was 11 AM - my day off, fortunately - and I started to wonder if the "events" of the previous night were just a dream. But my revolver still sat on the bedside table. I went to make myself a cup of coffee, and nearly jumped a foot in the air when I heard a rapping on my front door. "Open up, police business" a gruff voice called, and I relaxed, a little bit. I went over and, swallowing nervously, unlocked and opened my front door. Two officers were standing in the doorway, and at least 6 more were out in the hall, questioning other neighbors. "What's going on here - did something happen?" I asked, and the gruff officer replied: "Last night, there was a murder on your floor. We want to ask you a few questions."
The questions were pretty standard, and I didn't want to make a suspect of myself, so I obliges. After the police left, I immediately locked my door again. I was, to say the least, terrified. I still am. I don't know what that was, last night, but I know that if I hadn't listened to the woman on the phone, I would most likely be dead right now. It's nearly midnight, my front door is locked and bolted. Tomorrow, I might go out and buy a big-ass padlock, just to be sure. Because as I'm typing this, somebody is knocking on my front door. And I don't want to take any chances.
Anybody know what's going on? | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17ag97p/i_got_a_strange_call_last_night_i_think_my_life/ | nosleep | Latter-Locksmith-483 |
false | If You Walk Past 233 Charlton Street...Don’t Look At It! | If you ever find yourself walking past 233 Charlton Street in Columbus, don’t look at it. No matter how tempted you are, don’t even think about it. Within these words lies a chilling account of that house and the sinister secrets it hides. Prepare yourselves, I’m telling you this so that you don’t make the same mistakes I did.
It all began innocently enough when I moved into that quaint house that seemed just like any other. A nice little place for me to finally call my own. I’d been saving for years and finally managed to get enough money to put a deposit down on my own place. When the house came on the market I thought it was a steal. A beautiful, Georgian-style house, it was a short walk from both the city centre and my work, and at a very low price I couldn't help but snap it up as quickly as I could. Within a few weeks, I was all moved in, happy to have my own space in the big city.
Little did I know that behind the charming façade of the place, a malevolent force lay in wait. It started as a whisper, a subtle stirring of unease that I couldn't quite put my finger on. As I was going about my morning routine, making breakfast and watching a video about a new film that had just come out, I thought I heard a faint noise. It was almost like someone speaking in hushed tones, coming from the door to the basement. I shook it off initially, thinking that it must have been a trick of the mind, or my ears mishearing sounds from my video. But then there it was again. It sounded like it was just behind the door. Slightly shaken, I got up from my table and made my way over to the door that separated the kitchen from the basement. Shakily I gripped the handle, it was freezing to the touch but opened easily enough. When I threw the door open there was nothing there. Just the dark staircase leading down into the basement, cold and silent. I closed the door, scolding myself for being so jumpy and went about the rest of my day.
But as the days passed, the true nature of this awful abode began to reveal itself. Each night turned into a living nightmare as the house's oppressive silence took hold. It was as if the very air grew heavy with an ancient malevolence, saturating every nook and cranny. And then, the sounds. Those maddening sounds that danced on the edge of perception, tormenting my sanity. Footsteps echoed downstairs when I was trying to sleep. Just like the whispering at the basement door, when I went to investigate there was no one to be seen, leaving me shaken and questioning my own sanity. Were there actually any sounds or was it all just in my head? Was someone else in the house and did I not know? It got to the point where I would dread going to sleep, afraid of what I might hear.
One night I couldn’t stand it anymore, I just couldn't deal with the phantom noises, plaguing my sleep. When I heard the sound of creaking footsteps in the kitchen I bolted to the stairs, trying to be as fast as I could to finally catch whoever was making the infernal noises. As I reached the final step into the hallway, I heard footsteps again in the kitchen. Racing over, I rounded the corner just in time to see the door to the basement slam shut. Utterly shaken but also vindicated, I grabbed a knife from the nearby rack for defence before deciding to confront my tormentor.
Opening the door I was met with the same gaping dark silence that was the basement staircase. I tried the lights, preferring to confront the noise maker in the light, but as soon as I flicked the switch the bulb in the basement blew, leaving the gaping darkness to fill the void. Grabbing a flashlight from one of my drawers, I clicked it on and shouted a warning to the person in the basement that I was coming down and that if they gave themselves up I wouldn’t press charges. My warnings were met with silence, so with a sense of trepidation I started my descent into the void of the basement.
As soon as I took that first step I noticed how cold it was again. I know that basements are cold but this was something else, it felt like I was standing outside in the middle of winter. Still, I pressed on and made my way into the darkness of the basement, the small cone of my flashlight providing the only illumination. All the while fearing that whoever was in my house may be hiding, waiting to jump out at any moment.
I did a full sweep of the basement, being sure to check all of the places that it was possible for someone to hide. My search was ultimately fruitless, the basement seemed as abandoned as it ever was. There was no trace that anyone had been down here since I moved in. Now even more shaken and confused, I was doubting my sanity more than ever. I turned to leave and as I did I noticed the beam of my flashlight illuminating something strange. It was a pile of boxes that I’d obviously knocked over while searching the dark basement. However it wasn't the boxes themselves that I found particularly interesting, it was something glinting within one of them.
Getting closer I could see slightly better but was still unable to make it out exactly, it was covered by too much of the cardboard of the box. Pulling the cardboard away I stumbled backwards at the sight of what I had just found. A relic of terror, a weathered Ouija board, untouched by human hands for what felt like an eternity. Looking at the rest of the items in the box I noticed several pictures which I’d never seen before in my life. They looked old, and were in black and white, as though taken by a very early camera. The edges of them had frayed and twisted with age and some of them had faded almost entirely. The photos themselves seemed to be of a family, a mother, father and two young girls.
I’d never seen this box before in my life. It certainly wasn't here before I moved in, the basement was completely empty and I’d only moved my things here. So how had this box of unusual items ended up here? Pondering this mystery, I made my way back up the stairs, box in hand, with the intention of investigating further in the morning.
Morning broke and with it, my determination to find out what was going on with my house was at an all-time high. I spent that morning on the internet, searching for any sort of clue as to who the family in the pictures were, how the box may have ended up in the basement, and why I was hearing strange noises in my house. After hours of endless scrolling and several dead ends, I was close to giving up, but then I got a response on one of my forum posts. They couldn’t help to identify the family and had no idea how the mysterious box could have appeared in my basement, but they suggested using the Ouija board to see if that gave me any answers.
Normally I would have laughed at the idea of using anything like this seriously, Ouija boards were nothing more than a party trick, something fun to do at sleepovers. But I was getting to the point where I was willing to try just about anything. Against my better judgement, I decided to give it a try that night.
After doing a bit of research I decided that I would start in the basement as this seemed to be the area that most of the activity was centred around. I set everything up, ready for whatever the night would bring. Then I went back upstairs to go about the rest of my day, waiting for night to fall.
As it started getting later an excitement in me grew, along with a feeling of apprehension. I shook them off as silly nerves, I didn't think this was actually going to work. Then I heard it. The creak of the basement door and the noise of footsteps in the kitchen. As I made my way into the kitchen, the footsteps retreated back towards the basement and the door slammed.
Much like the night before, when I opened that basement door I was only met with the gaping abyss of the dark staircase and an oppressive silence.
I made my way down the steps, again noting the unearthly cold until I reached the bottom. From there I made my way over to the far end of the basement where I had first discovered the box and where the Ouija board now lay, surrounded by the pictures of the family that I had placed around it. Kneeling down next to it, I readied myself for what I needed to do.
As my trembling fingers made contact with the planchette, I felt an odd rush, the hairs on my arms standing one end. With scepticism I beseeched the spirits that dwelled beyond our realm, expecting little in the way of anything.
To my shock and horror, the planchette started moving. Slowly at first, but then building up momentum, as though whatever was pushing it was getting stronger. I watched in awe as it traced back and forth between the letters of the board, ultimately spelling out a single word. “Beware”.
A thrill of excitement shot through me like a shock of electricity, making me shiver. It worked. It was real, ghosts, the afterlife, all of it. My mind raced, thinking of all of the possibilities that this meant. Struggling to contain my excitement, I proceeded to ask why I should beware. Again the planchette snaked its way between the letters of the board, ultimately spelling out the word “Father”. I uttered the word as it was spelt, and as soon as the last syllable left my lips, a cold wind whipped around the basement, causing the candles to flicker and splutter menacingly.
From that point on, the atmosphere in the basement seemed to change, there was an oppressive feeling in the air as though a malicious presence was looming, watching my every move. With a newfound sense of dread, I proceeded to ask the board yet another question. This time, the planchette flew jerkily between the letters of the board as if thrown across it violently. As it jerked across the board it spelt out the word “Leave”. Shaken by the sudden change in the spirits' attitude, I proceeded with yet another question. Yet again the planchette flew violently across the board spelling out the same word.
Every subsequent question I asked was met with the same, aggressive response. The darkness in the room seemed to swell, almost suffocating me. As I was about to ask another question, hoping that the spirits would be more reasonable with their answers, I heard a crashing noise that caused me to spin around with a start.
Reeling around I noticed that the pile of boxes in the corner had collapsed, strewn across the floor as though they had been thrown by some malicious force. The contents within were strewn across the basement floor, scattered and broken. I was terrified, realising that whoever I was now speaking to did not want me here, and was getting stronger. At this realisation, I knew I had to gather up my things and get out of there.
Turning back to the board, I froze in terror at what I saw. Standing, obscured in shadow, was the form of a man. He looked to be in his late fifties, dressed in classic Georgian dress, but something was off. His blue clothes and white cravat, once elegant looking and regal, now appeared dishevelled, as though the years of time had ravaged it. That wasn't the worst part though, as my eyes made their way up to his pale, decrepit face, I was met with a sight that still haunts me to this day.
His face was a twisted mask of rage, his features contorted in anger, and in the centre were his two, burning eyes. His eyes seemed to bore into mine and I could feel the hatred burning into my very soul. I noticed that there were flecks of what appeared to be dried blood, splashed around the edges of his face, adding to the contorted mask. His jaw began to descend revealing a gaping maw, with rows of discoloured, rotten teeth lining the perimeter of his lips. They descended far wider than any pair of human jaws should be able to, revealing a black abyss. Then, a shriek so loud and horrible I swear I can still hear it, issued from the void and the candles went out.
At this point, shaking and stumbling in the dark, reason and sanity left me and I ran as fast as humanly possible out of that basement. Several times I tripped over the scattered boxes and items on the floor until I finally reached the staircase to my salvation. Fear granted me one last glance behind me, the burning eyes of the ghastly figure had gone, leaving only the dark basement behind.
I fled up the stairs, a cold sweat dripping down my face. Slamming the door behind me, I flew up the main staircase and into my bedroom, slamming the door and dragging my desk in front of it to barricade it. What had I just seen? There was no way it could be real. I didn't know what it was or what it wanted but I couldn't get its hateful face out of my head.
Eventually, I managed to fall asleep, but nightmares plagued me every moment. Twisted faces leered at me from the darkest corners, their eyes brimming with malice, their voices whispering malevolence into the recesses of my mind. I was trapped, ensnared by an unseen force that revealed in my torment. All of the nightmares culminated in the same thing, that horrific, contorted face.
Waking the next morning in a cold sweat, I knew I needed to do something, find out more about the man I had seen in the basement. Remembering the photos that I’d found in the basement with that cursed Ouija board, I went back through them to see if I could find any clues as to who that spectre could have been. I dropped the photo in shock as soon as I saw it. To my horror, when looking through the aged depictions I saw him, the man from the basement. He was there in all of the photos, with his wife and two daughters, but he looked different. He seemed happier and his face was calmer, more approachable.
Not sure of what to do or how to get my house back from the evil presence that haunted it I enlisted the aid of a paranormal investigator, a brave soul who shared my thirst for truth. Toby Jones was a young man in his mid-twenties who had a passion for ghosts and the supernatural, so when I found him online he jumped at the chance to check out a haunting like this. I’d given him ample warning before his first visit as to what had previously occurred but he was still resolved to uncover the mysteries with me.
On his first visit, Toby merely observed the noises and basement door slamming that had been occurring nearly nightly for the past few weeks. I think it filled him with a sense of wonder that he was finally observing a real-life ghost. The next day Toby returned with several items I’d never seen before. He pointed some of them out as things like smudge sticks and incense to purify the area that the ghost had taken residence in as well as some other items that I didn't pretend to understand.
Toby was pretty convinced that he would be able to rid the basement of the horror that had been tormenting me the past few weeks. He told me that he would need to go down there tonight with the intention of banishing the ghost with incantations he’d learned online and the items he’d bought with him. I was sceptical at his chances of actually being able to pull it off, he was a nice enough man but he seemed very inexperienced. Ultimately though I was unable to convince him otherwise, so with an uneasy feeling we waited until nightfall.
As the sun started to sink behind the clouds we started to hear the familiar footsteps in the kitchen that marked the start of the night's haunting. Toby gathered up his things, and with an air of sadness, I watched him descend the staircase into the abyss of the basement. I wish I’d never let him go.
There was silence for what felt like hours, occasionally broken by the sounds of Toby shouting an incantation. The smell of incense was thick in the air, choking my lungs as it slipped under the basement door.
After what felt like an eternity I heard a sound that made my blood run cold. There was an almighty bang from the basement, as though something massive had fallen. Fearing for Toby’s safety, I swung the door open and tried the light switch. The switch did nothing, the bottom of the staircase still an inky void devoid of all light, and worse still there was no answer from Toby. Then, a sound reached me that made my hair stand on end. The slow, malicious laugh of someone well past their years. Then another sound, it was a foot on the bottom step. As the person at the bottom of the stairs started to make their way into the light of the staircase I was relieved to see it was just Toby, still, there was something off about him. His head was slumped and he was carrying something long and metallic in his hands. Then he lifted his head up and I screamed.
His face was contorted into that same mask of hatred worn by the figure I had seen earlier and his eyes were burning unnaturally with a fierce anger that I’d never seen in him before. I was frozen in place as he continued his advance up the stairs, and I was able to finally make out what it was that he was carrying.
In Toby’s hands was what appeared to be a very old shotgun, almost antique-looking in its ornate design. I have no idea where he got it from as there were no guns in the house and he certainly hadn't bought it with him. Like a deer in headlights, I was unable to move until, with another menacing laugh, Toby began to raise the shotgun at me.
Control snapping back, I dived to my right just as a shot rang out from the barrel and shattered the wood of the doorframe. I knew I had to get up, get as far away from Toby or whatever was controlling him as possible. Scrambling to my feet I ran into my living room and took refuge behind my sofa, another shot narrowly missing my head by inches, causing the books on my bookshelf to explode.
My mind was racing, I was struggling to comprehend what was happening, all I knew was that I needed to get out. Then, I saw my escape route. If I could run to the hallway that led to the front door, then Toby would no longer have a clean shot at me and I could escape into the streets. With this plan in mind, I steeled myself, ready to run for my life. All the while Toby’s footsteps were getting closer.
Launching myself with an explosive movement, I dived from my hiding place to the doorway of the hallway, narrowly avoiding another shot from the laughing Toby which shattered the floorboards.
I knew I didn't have much time, I needed to get out before Toby rounded the corner or I would be stuck, or worse. Mustering all of the strength my adrenaline boost had given me I ran as fast as I could to the door at the end of the hall.
Fumbling with the key in the lock I could hear the footsteps of Toby as he rounded the corner, another mocking laugh coming from his twisted mouth, eyes still blaring with disdain. At that moment I heard a click as I managed to unlock the front door. With one final effort, I threw the door open, my eyes being greeted by the quiet streets beyond. Hurling myself through it, I heard the ringing of another shot from Toby’s gun and felt a searing pain in my left calf.
Falling to the ground in pain I knew this was it, it was over. I readied myself, waiting for that final shot and the oblivion it would bring. But it never came. Opening my eyes I could see Toby, standing at the doorway with a twisted grin, he was standing there, staring hate at me, but he was unmoving.
Then, he turned on his heel and walked back into that awful house. I managed to drag myself away, eventually getting help from a passer-by who took me to the nearest hospital where they sorted out my ruined leg.
Shortly after the police came by to interview me about the night's incidents. I explained everything to them in as much detail as I could, aware of how insane I sounded. After hours they left me alone to my thoughts, to go and investigate the house. I wondered what had happened to Toby after I fled, if he had managed to fight off the evil that seemed to possess him. Then my thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ringing of my phone. Picking it up, the number on the screen was that of the detective who had interviewed me earlier.
Shakily I answered the phone, unsure of what the detective would want. The detective proceeded to tell me that they had done a sweep of the house and had found the holes from the shotgun blasts. Other than that nothing was out of place other than in the basement. When the officers had descended to that gaping void they were met with a shocking sight.
What the detectives told me next nearly made me drop my phone. The basement looked like it was ransacked, boxes and items strewn everywhere. There, in the centre, sat over the Ouija board was Toby. He was motionless, with the barrel of the antique gun still in his mouth.
The detectives confirmed that he had died last night, shortly after the bypasser had found me. I didn't know what to think, poor Toby had died trying to defend me from the horror that lurked in the house. If he hadn't tried to help me he would still be alive.
Desperation drove me to try and research the house's dark history. It was difficult, there were hardly any records available at the time and the historical societies I approached were not able to provide much either. Since the incident, I’ve been able to determine more. What I uncovered sent a chill down my spine. Decades ago, that awful place had been the stage for a gruesome tragedy.
A father, Mikheil Nozadze, driven mad by jealousy when he found that his wife had been having an affair with a local merchant, annihilated his wife and two daughters with a shotgun before taking his own life with the very same weapon. The bloodstains had long since been scrubbed away, parts of the house replaced or changed but the memory of the gruesome incident still remained, buried in the past. Every person who owned the house since then has either fled in terror, claiming to have seen a ghastly apparition who tormented their nights, or if they persevered, had ended up being found after taking their families and their own lives with an antique shotgun that no one remembers the family buying.
Ultimately, I made the heartbreaking decision to flee that wretched abode, never to return. As I packed my belongings during the day, a mix of relief and sorrow washed over me. I was leaving behind the horrors that had plagued me, but I couldn't shake the guilt that consumed me. The knowledge that another unsuspecting soul would soon call that house their own.
So please, for the love of god, don’t go into that house! | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17aykyh/if_you_walk_past_233_charlton_streetdont_look_at/ | nosleep | DantesGhost92 |
false | I inherited a lighthouse in the woods. Today I met the woman with the bleeding eye. | PART [1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16427gn/i_inherited_a_lighthouse_in_the_woods_and/)
| [2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1651jtd/i_inherited_a_lighthouse_in_the_woods_but_im_not/) | [3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16971rx/comment/jyzvt31/?context=3) | [4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16dmjkk/i_inherited_a_lighthouse_in_the_woods_theres_a/)
It's been awhile. I know.
I've been sending letters to an outside contact. A friend, or something close to it. Recently, they've made it clear that my ravens haven't been reaching them, that they've been getting intercepted by something, or someone. The Decrepit One, maybe. Or Wesley, my estranged, murderous brother.
I don't know.
I don't know who's trying to stop me from getting my story out, but I do know one thing: a lot's happened since I've gone quiet. More than I can say in a single post, so expect more frequent updates. Things aren't right in Gloomfall. They’re worse than I realized.
Last we spoke, I told you about my encounter with the Stickman. My reunion with my sister. I told you about the storm that ravishes the Phantom Wood every night, and the beast that my mother’s apparently become. But there’s more to this story– much more.
So let’s begin.
____________________
I folded my arms, watching the Stickman vanish into the forest. “I don’t trust him.”
Harriet shifted at my side, uncomfortable. “That makes two of us. Still, we’re not exactly in a position to turn down help right now– creepy monsters or otherwise.” She paused. Bit her lip. “Besides, Jasper. I think he knows things, more than he’s said tonight.”
“What sort of things?”
Harriet leaned forward, she planted her elbows on the window sill and gazed toward the stabbing lightning above the Phantom Wood. “He helped me repair the lighthouse. After dad died… the light started to dim, and I was working around the clock trying to figure out how to get it burning bright again but…” Another pause. Another hesitant, shame-ridden sigh. “I couldn’t figure it out. He understood the mechanism though, the weird, ancient magic that powers it.”
I let her words digest in my mind. So the Stickman had helped Harriet repair the lighthouse. “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said at length. “Our family built this lighthouse generations ago. There’s never been anybody but us who’s worked on it. Even dad didn’t know much about that thing– that’s why he had us jot down that giant operating manual, remember? He was worried more knowledge would be lost.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Harriet said. “Look, I know it doesn’t make any sense, but neither does the rest of it, does it? Wesley coming back. Our mother being… being whatever the hell is making those storms. Nothing makes any sense, Jasper, so I think we’ve got to work with what we’ve got and sort out the details later.”
The way Harriet spoke told me she was done with the conversation. The lines on her face, the bags beneath her eyes told me she was done with the day– she looked exhausted. “Let’s just get some sleep,” she said with a shake of her head. She pulled the shutters closed to the storm. “We can talk about things tomorrow.”
“Is it safe? Shouldn’t one of us stand watch?”
Harriet stalked across my old bedroom, stopping by the door where her fingers drummed along the frame. ““The Stickman’s standing watch. He’ll let us know if the storm worsens, or the light dims, or…” Her words trailed off, her face paling, lips trembling with unspoken words. “Look, the point is– we’re safe. Now get some sleep because we’ve got work to do tomorrow.”
I opened my mouth to reply, to press her on what she meant to say– what she wasn’t telling me, but before I could get a word out the door was already groaning closed. Harriet had gone. Sighing, I stumbled onto my bed, laying back and trying to make heads or tails of what was going on here.
One thing was certain: this wasn’t the Gloomfall I remembered. The place I abandoned had rules. Laws. This place? This place was coming undone, unraveling in all the most terrifying ways I could imagine.
And some, much worse than that.
_______________
“Rise and shine.”
I blinked, blinded by daylight as Harriet thrust open my bedroom’s shutters. My head pounded. My limbs, battered and bruised from the night before, felt like lead weights dipped in acid. Every hurt. Everything felt weak.
“Give me another hour,” I said.
“No chance,” she told me flatly. “We’ve got work to do– and somebody to meet.”
“Who?”
She tossed me one of dad’s old shirts, a plaid button-down. Next came a pair of jeans. “Throw these on. Your clothes are soaked in blood and I’m pretty sure you pissed yourself running around last night.”
“Feel free to fuck off.”
“Feel free to hurry up. I’m not kidding. This isn’t the sort of visitor you want to leave waiting.” She stalked to the door, then stopped and looked back at me over her shoulder. “And Jasper?”
I grunted.
“It’s good to see you again.”
___________________
After I finished getting dressed I stepped outside to find Harriet sitting on the grass outside the cabin. She was staring up at the lighthouse, its red brickwork gleaming in the autumn sun. In her hands was a knife and a sharpening stone.
“Morning,” I grumbled.
She glanced back at me, hastily stuffing the knife into her denim jacket. “Hasn’t been morning for a couple hours now. How do you feel?”
“Like shit.”
“Join the club. Ready for a bit of socializing?”
I narrowed my eyes. Gloomfall didn’t have much of a population. Outside of our family– the Lichts, there were only four others scattered around the area. We tended to the lighthouse. The others acted as stewards to different structures on the land. None of the families were overly large, and none of them cared much for socializing.
“Who are we meeting?” I asked.
Harriet nodded toward the creek. “See for yourself.”
I followed her across the yellowed grass, stalking toward the slow-rippling water that would soon become a rushing river come winter. I wondered if she’d managed to gather the families. It was such a colossal task that I’d only ever seen it done once in all my life– during our mother’s funeral. But maybe Harriet had convinced them of the Storm’s significance.
I’d trust them over the Stickman, at any rate.
“Go on,” Harriet said, stopping suddenly. “I’ll wait for you here.”
I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I nearly walked into her. I looked up, lamely looking across the creek toward the creeping branches of the Phantom Wood. There. Just at the edge of the property, sitting safely outside the Lighthouse’s glare was a hunch-backed woman drowning in robes.
My heart pounded. Even from here, a dozen meters away I could feel her. Like an illness. Or a disease. The woman looked at me, face hidden beneath a hood, one over-large eye trickling blood down a wrinkled cheek.
I turned to Harriet. “What is this?” I asked, voice shaking.
“A contingency,” Harriet replied. “Against Wesely. And the Stickman. You didn’t think I’d trust them without a back-up plan, did you?”
I shook my head, mouth moving wordlessly in disbelief. I wanted to tell her that no, this wasn’t a contingency– this was a deal with the devil. The Decrepit One wasn’t just another Haunt, it was the Haunt. The most vile creature to stalk the Phantom Wood. The most ancient.
This was the monster our father had been speaking with before he died.
And now, it wanted to talk to [me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCryptid/comments/svvw3l/crooked_antlers_is_now_available_in_digital_and/) | https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/17agbx6/i_inherited_a_lighthouse_in_the_woods_today_i_met/ | nosleep | Born-Beach |
false | Fur covered Creature | So this just happened and I’m still a little shaken by it but need to share it
Every year my grandmother gets us a spot at this RV park to visit the beach and nearby it there’s a state park so my friend and I decided to jog the one trail but started later than usual and ended up jogging to this bridge thing where we stood talked for a while and my friend tells me how he has an extremely good sense of danger as we start jogging back I start a playing a video through my earbuds and start talking then my friend tells me that he just got this extremely bad feeling of danger and turns toward me he then says “I think I just saw something black in the field over their I turn to wear he was looking and see what looked like a creature on all all fours with dark black fur standing sort of like a black cat with the center of its back slightly arched standing at about 4 feet tall and as I looked at it I got this overwhelming sense of fear like fear and dread I quietly tell him “I see it too let’s go” and we start sprinting the trail the sense of dread dying down until I look back and it boils right back up again we keep sprinting until we reach the road at which point I try to keep a good pace because we’re not out of the state park yet and once we cross the park boundary my friend tells me that every time he looked back he saw a black creature dive into the woods.
Any Ideas on what this thing is? | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/159tgov/fur_covered_creature/ | TrueScaryStories | Introvert_Magos |
false | Wtf happened in those woods | Cursed land? Haunted forest?
This is a true story and I've been kind of obsessing over wtf happened out there.
I'll try to keep it as breif as possible without leaving out key details.
My wife's uncle (J) bought some land just north of spokane Washington with a friend of the family (K).
They got it at a significant discount because a nearby aluminum smelter had polluted the ground and it was impossible to use the water beneath the ground. They had set up 2 plots and each had a camper to live in.
J had been progressively getting paranoid and saying people where stalking him and watching him in the trees.
About 3 months into living there a man wandering through the woods there had an interaction with J and ended up attacking him and breaking his jaw. Upon being arrested the man said he was overcome with the desire to see if he could kill him with a single punch.
2 months later J was murdered in his sleep on the couch in his camper. K found him and immediately ran as far away until he stopped to call the police. There was sufficient evidence of who did it and they quickly caught the killer who was a 19yo boy who said he simply wanted his bike. He beat him to death with a power tool that was lying on he floor nearby, completely bashed his brains in.
K was completely terrified at all times to be there alone, he had moved in with a family member until 8 months later he ended up with nowhere else to go and had to return. In constant fear he finally convinced my pregnant wife and I to come stay with him.The second I turned off the highway onto the property I was overcame with dread.
There were at least 250 crows covering the dirt road up to the property. I didn't sleep whatsoever the first night. I stared into the forest searching for the cause of my intense fear. The energy of this place was so uncomfortable and I assumed it was simply just knowing uncle J was killed here. Even the days were eery, never did I have a moment where I didn't feel watched here. My wife and I always had the sense of fear especially after dark.
Things sort of normalized for a while until one day K began puking and feeling very light headed all the time. I took him to the hospital and they said he was fine, probably a flu. At this point it was the anniversary of J's murder. 3 days after the date of J's death K comes running out of his camper screaming "I can't breath!!!" waking my wife and I up and we run out to see what's wrong.
K had gotten into his car and floored it crashing into a nearby tree. I run up and peer through the window to see the most intense and most primal fear I've ever seen in someone's eyes. He was gasping and clutching his chest, moments later he breathed out one last time and he was dead. We gave him cpr for 30 minutes untill ems arrived. On July 10th, one year and 3 days after moving there with J and they were both dead.
Now it's only me and the wife alone on the property. Every moment living in fear and not understanding what had happened here. Idk why we didn't leave right away. One day I come out to get fresh water from a drum we kept for water to smell the worst smell I'd ever smelled. The water container had a 1 inch opening on top, and inside the water was bits and pieces of chipmunks. Like spines and heads. They didn't fall in, something ripped them apart before putting them inside.
The nights were getting worse and worse. I never saw anything just always filled with unease and intense fear. I grew up deep in the mountains of north Idaho with the nearest town being 30 miles away. Fear in the woods even at night is new for me. Hearing crashing and footsteps every night. One night my wife and I return home to having the worst feeling I've ever felt. Everything looked different, although everything was right where we left it nothing seemed in place. Looking around I suddenly see this orange long haired manged cat sitting on a stump. This cats eyes were so intense. Fiery, almost glowing but not quite. We start hearing branches snapping, pine needles crunching, seemingly from every direction. I'm still staring at this cat almost frozen in fear.
Suddenly a voice breaks out echoing throughout the forest. "Hello? Is anyone out here"? A little girl I thought, but something was off. My wife yells back. "Hello? Are you ok?" "Anybody!" The voice had changed. "Help, help me!" We yell back several times without response "SOMEBODY FU#KING HELP ME!!!" The most intense shreiking, evil sounding voice of a woman. I'm filled with more intense fear than I can ever describe, but my wife, she Is overcome with the need to find this person, and she started to head off into the forest without a word. I grabbed her by the arm and tell her something isn't right, why won't she respond to us? She tries to break free from me to go off alone.
I tell her to get into the truck and I'll grab the spotlights we aren't going on foot. We roll the windows down and shine my intensely bright LED lights throughout the forest. We slowly creep down the road yelling back. As we get further down the road the voice strikes out "please, won't anyone fu#king help!" Sounds are difficult to pin down in the woods but this one was very close.
I hit the breaks and stop immediately, we shine the lights and yell back searching. No sign of anyone when suddenly the voice explodes into the cabin of the vehicle as if they were standing right outside my window "HELP......ME......SOMEBODY FU!KING HELP!" leaving my ears hurting and ringing. I hit the gas and didn't look back.
Called the police when I hit the highway and afterwards they said there was no one around. I picked up our stuff the next day and my wife gave birth the following day. We never stayed there again after the baby was born. What the hell could do these things? I never even believed in paranormal things before but idk what else happened. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/158eulf/wtf_happened_in_those_woods/ | TrueScaryStories | CalligrapherPitiful3 |
false | Is he or is it? | Long ago when I moved out my parents house I could always have a feeling in my head about a girl I saw in my dreams I tried very hard to ignore it but it kept on being brought on like a wave of dark energy.
A few years ago I was with my friend and she randomly announces that she wants to wacth a movie.
I got up and played a scary movie (tusk) halfway through the movie I feel a shiver, I close my eyes and all of a sudden I'm in a dark room it was ok but let's just say the room was very dirty and there was a sticky substance every where. I swear it felt soooooooooo real to the point I was starting to freak out REALLY BADLY , I tried to calm myself down and when I finally did I saw a figure, at this point I knew I was dreaming but when the figure (appeared to be a man) started to touch me like hold my shoulder so it could walk me down the long hallway I felt safe and very calm.
As we reached the end I looked back and and than towards the creature but it had .....vanished
I slowly walked into a room and in that room I saw myself performing a surgery on a man but the man had a very skinny body to skinny, a body that cant possibly survive but atlest I opened his chest and took out his stomach and threw it away. When (me who was performing the surgery) looked at (me the me that was really me) I screamed. I dont know why but I just did (never thought that much of it)
Until life went on I became a surgeon and I always wanted to sooooo I didnt think about it that much, I was succesful and was living a very happy life
But one day a very skinny guy came over and he was too skinny to be alive I quickly grabbed my assistants arm and started crying (it was the same guy)
After a while I ultimately had to do the surgery
He had to get a vessel that had stopped had formed a gaint clout. During the surgery I started getting flash backs and all of a sudden after doing his surgery I quit. Now I'm a teacher at my local school
All I know is u have never recovered since | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/15875j0/is_he_or_is_it/ | TrueScaryStories | Then-Listen8925 |
false | Scariest story you have or have been told I'll go first. | When I was the age of 8 my great grandfather died on my mother's side. The night of his passing we visited him with my parents, two siblings, aunt and uncle their kids, and my grandparents we left the house around 8 pm I believe. So that night we all ate out and then went to our homes. My older cousin (I'll call him James) woke up at 2am with a shadow man in the corner of his room watching him. The shadow man then walked to the door and phased through it. He grabbed his bag and went to the living room meeting his little sister out there he asked why she was out there. She responded saying some shadow man was in her room and then left. They both swept the house and found nothing. My great grandfathers house was across town. He had a caregiver that lived with him to help him she was in the living room unable to sleep when she heard something down the hall. She got up and looked down the hall to see a shadow man open my great grandfathers room that he used to be in before he was moved the shadow man entered. The time was around 2:20 am when this happened the shadow then came back in the hall saw her and started to run towards her then dissipated. 10 minutes later my great grandfather died. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/157rwxb/scariest_story_you_have_or_have_been_told_ill_go/ | TrueScaryStories | AshtonRainfall |
false | I got stuck on a carnival ride | Im going to try to keep this short. I was on one of those rides that go up and drop down. It was only about 50 ft high so it wouldn’t be to bad. This was my 4th time on the ride so i knew how it was going to go. I noticed it slowly went up and then stopped we were about 40 feet off the ground and i starter to panic because i hated being stopped on a ride. I looked down and the panic grew worse. Finally after about 5 minutes we were let down and our tickets were given back to us. Apparently a screw had come unloose AND the controls were not working. I never went on that ride again. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/156sicx/i_got_stuck_on_a_carnival_ride/ | TrueScaryStories | Am_i_the_problem- |
false | Life in my house | A little backstory of what happened before what happened so I live with my Partner,and our two cats. We finally found a home in our price range,and it had everything we wanted the perfect amount of rooms and everything.so this happened two weeks after we moved in,and I was editing a video for my friend and I saw something fall from my desk and what it fell was a picture of my cats and they are upside down laying in the picture.so I look around and the next couple of hours pass by and then I finish the edit and then this time my morse code machine I made starts saying “Do you need help with anything” in morse code. So I reply with a no. Then the machine says “can you stay here” so I was like Yes but I’m not always staying. Then my machine says “okay thank you” I reply with your welcome.
That machine goes off every morning with a good morning and a good night. I love the place me and my partner live at its awsome. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/1560pwk/life_in_my_house/ | TrueScaryStories | crazy_geek123 |
false | Who/What Was There? | **Note**: There may have been more to it but I'm just recalling what I remember
So Me and my church program members (there's a youth program at my church) (for those who signed up to go) went to a cabin for I believe 3 days and 2 nights. There was a main place which was the barn where all the games and fun happened and was at least closer to the cabins than the bathrooms, the bathrooms which were quite far from the cabins and a tobogganing hill which was fairly close to the cabins. Also there were 2 boy cabins and I believe 1 girl cabin and there was a strict rule that you couldn't enter the opposite genders' cabin(s). On the 2nd day/night ( I say day/night since it was late like 10 ish and dark so I don't know how to describe it) me and my friend were about to leave the barn while the leaders were partying (not in a bad way XD) in the barn but there was a leader who was willing to take me and a kid who was sort of my friend to the cabins since it was dark and pretty late at night (10 ish). But first the leader had to use the bathrooms so we waited in the barn for him. But he was taking quite some time so my friend and I decided to go on our own to the cabins (by the way i think if I remember correctly I think some were already in the cabins and some were maybe brushing in the sink in the barn but I'm not 100% sure) so when we almost got to the cabins my friend saw like 2 figures and he had glasses so I obviously trusted him and after he said it, I noticed them too, (before he said it I didn't think about anything being there). So we stayed there looking for like 7 seconds just looking but the figures werent moving at all. So when we were done looking we started jogging away looking back and we went back to the barn. When we got back to the barn the leader who was going to follow us came to us and we told him what happened and we said I think like it was a 25-35% chance those were actually figures so he first told the head leader who then told him to follow us. Good thing the leader had his phone so he used his phone flashlight but instead of seeing figures, we saw nothing. Except... for a car. The leader explained that we probably saw the taillights of the car. The leader also didn't recognize the license plate of the car, but behind us, some of the kids (which I never knew were behind us so I was surprised) who I think were done brushing or using the washrooms either in the barn or the actual washrooms came with a leader who said that the car was hers so we all went in to our respected cabins and called it a day. Only I, the kid who followed me and the leader who followed us knew about it. I still think about that to this day. Btw this happened on the same trip below.
**P.S.** Don't think that's the only thing. On the first day of the cabin trip with my youth church program, I believe when I was in the 2nd boy cabin which had like 4 leaders (including the high school or uni student leaders). The lights were off in the cabin and I was looking out the window of the cabin which faced the back of the cabin, I swear I saw a black-like creature or shadow just run for like 1 second and then disappear. The first thing that came to my mind was a werewolf story I listened to like 2 days before we went to the cabin. I fell onto my bed and someone asked, "Who fell on the bed LOL" or something like that but I didn't say anything until like a minute after and I said I think I saw something outside but everyone was like, "Don't worry we're in the middle of nowhere" and stuff like that. I still remember that moment to this day too just like the story above which happened during the same trip. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/1561trn/whowhat_was_there/ | TrueScaryStories | SceneSilent6945 |
false | The coincidence that scared me to hell | This happened around 5 years ago. I was working in a pretty decent hotel as a bartender, and part of our job description was to deliver room service to people or complementary drinks/food that the reception asked us to deliver.
One night i got an order to the 4th floor trough the reception. Now it is important that it was the 4th floor because that was the only floor in the hotel that had no windows to the outside in the end of the hallways, or anywhere for that matter. It was also the cheapest floor and it was not renovated in years to a point that there were boot marks on the walls / ceiling and patches of paint hanging from the ceiling as well. Other floors were well maintained i don't know why that was the case. Anyway , on the end of each hallway instead of a window was a huge mirror almost the size of the entire hallway which gave an illusion of an infinite corridor with the mirrors being on both sides of the hall. Half way trough the hallway in both directions were fire doors that were held by electromagnets from what i can tell.
So there i go up to the 4th and to the end of the hallway where the room i needed to go to was. As i approach the room , i could hear people talking faintly because the door was open and light was spilling into the hallway. As i got closer the talking stopped and now i could only hear the static noise of a TV . I knocked on the open door and said "Room service!" but no one responded. I slowly walked into the room knocking again (Got a few people scared a couple of times before so i was being careful) but as i got inside i realized the room was empty. At this point i am creeped out by the empty room, static tv, and 4th floor in general i quickly put the drinks on the table and left.
As i was approaching the fire doors, the lights on the floor went out and the doors slam shut on me just as i was about to go trough them, the lights went out only in the hall because i could still see the light from the room and hear the TV static , which was getting louder and coming from all around. I felt adrenaline rush trough my body as i ran down the stairs ( didn't want to wait for the elevator ) and ran straight outside for a smoke.
The 4th floor always creeped me out but since that time i found ways not to go up there at night any longer.
The floor itself got renovated about a year later and it became way less creepy but i still had a weird feeling when i got up there. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/154jl2x/the_coincidence_that_scared_me_to_hell/ | TrueScaryStories | Wesix |
false | Sleep App | I purchased an app to record myself as I slept. I got the app because I had heard that I was snoring loudly, and that I was stopping breathing while I was sleeping. (sleep apnea).
I would come home from work and turn the app on and listen to my previous nights sleep. One day after work I was listening to myself snore from the previous night. While listening I started to think about an old boss who had passed away. I really liked her and felt bad that she had died. On the app I hear myself break from snoring and say "Hi Pat". That was the name of my old boss who had passed away, the one I was just thinking of. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/154kkzt/sleep_app/ | TrueScaryStories | BikeTireManGo |
false | A skinwalker? | So one fine day i got a text from my friends " its a good rainy day lets go to a waterfall nearby " where do they get this energy to climb a hill when its raining this heavy ! , why can't they enjoy a nice cup of tea or coffee and a playlist . ah well either way there was no point in denying cause they would drag me out my house anyway . So we decided to set out in evening i had a great place in my mind ,
We reached there around 5.30 pm , Even though i had planned to laze around in my room, witnessing such scene of mountain covered with the blanket of fog and distance view of waterfall was worth the trip .it was less to no crowd as it was a weekday, when we started climbing it took 4 of us around 15-20 mins to reach the waterfall, the view from up there of the city was mesmerizing , there was a very small area surrounded by big rocks at summit of waterfall , flow had created hot-spring style potholes one below another . There were few people up there around 4-5 except us , as the waterfall was loud it was hard to communicate without yelling , we are kind of group who just enjoy the company of each other even tho there is no conversation going on. we all sat in one of those potholes in silence vibing with the feeling of flowing water , enchanting view and sound of fall it was a bliss , we all drifted off. after some time passed by as i was lost in thoughts , admiring the view i noticed a small broken branch of white flower flowing besides me , i watched it flow down one pothole to another it was peaceful watching it flow off until it went out of view in thick forest thats when i jolted out of my daydream, i looked back wondering what my friends where upto and they were all still drifting off on their own one's laying down enjoying the flow and other is sky gacing. I started noticing something strange, it was quite too quite i couldn't hear people talking , laughing as before i looked back and i realised the place was deserted , we were the only ones left behind. when checked my watch it made me feel uneasy.. cause when we came here and sat down it was around 6 - 6:15 pm , for what i and everyone with me had thought had spent 15 minutes idling there was a 45 mins timegap we could not explain , when i told them its allmost 7:00 pm they all thought i was joking but after confirming they had confused yet blank look on their face and didn't knew what to make out of this situation. At moment we decided not to overthink about it and decided to descend as it was getting dark but cause whatever luck we had, the sunset was late that day . As we started our way down with the chit-chat, i was still bugged about the fact that all four of us were sitting there ideally for almost an hour and none of us noticed and how i didn't noticed people leaving , as i was overflowing in this thoughts i heard a whistling sound come from the forest edge of the trail we were walking , (just to give you readers a clear idea of the trail it was a narrow path on the edge of the hill, and down below was slide of deep forestation) , i looked at my friends to see if anyone heard it too but they all seem to be busy with their conversation, i shrugged it off as it maybe a bird , as i countinued few steps down i heard it again a "whistle" kind of which sounded very human , i watched my friends walking in front of me as they all looked in same direction as the sound came from down the edge , first when we heard the whistle it sounded casual but as we paced further the tone changed and sounded way more like it wanted our attention . the conversation between them was slowly dying down as they were starting to realise what the situation was . I also noticed the whistling was coming from the same distance even though we were moving as if whatever was making that sound was maintaining the same 5 to 10 meters distance between us . Well To say it clearly FOLLOWING US . And i guess everyone with me had started to realise this without me saying. Now the thing about late timed sunset is , it lits the sky as long as it does and in a matter of mins it is dark as middle of a night . It seemed like our luck ran out on us . we where all most out of the forest area but it was pitch dark and we were at the mercy of our phones flash light and slippery muddy trails were not any help for our pace . I was walking upfront cause some turns needed a support hand to pass by, as we were almost out of this forest i was starting to feel a little hopeful , only if i had knew it was a false feeling , something happened which none of us had expected. a sound of a branch breaking following with a whistle it send a chill down everyones spine . my heart was racing faster then ever , i looked back and everyone was frozed on their tracks like a deer in headlights , i wanted to flash the light towards the direction of the sound but something screamed inside of me to leave it alone , somehow calming myself i instead decided checked on my friends, 2 of them were holding on somehow but the one who was walking in last. she had tears up her eyes almost ready to give up and scream her lungs out for help honestly she would have done that if she wasn't paralyzed by fear, i could sense she or none of them wanted to be last person standing , i knew everyone including me just wanted to run like the hell broke loose but that would have only led to some serious casualty as the path was filled with sharp stones , i muster up of whatever hope i had left for not to panic walked all the way back tapped on her shoulders signalling her to moving forward while joking on how she is slowing us down , in my mind i begged that they would go along and not cause the scene and for the sake of it they did , laughing awkwardly on the joke , and pacing forward . All life on earth including humans, animal, birds and even insects share one thing among their DNA that is "INSTINCT" . a necessity for survival , at that moment not out of fear but something inside us was telling us that something was lurking in that slope of thick forest , the slope which was nearly impossible to stand or walk thru it for any normal human . Somehow we all knew , we absolutely cannot acknowledge the whistle or that there is something in those bushes. After what it felt like forever we managed to get out of the forest we rushed towards our bikes and took off as fast as we could. coming into the city , the sound of traffic and lights calmed us down i noticed we were all shivering of cold and and maybe fear , i made a stop at a tea stall , the warmth of tea was soothing as time pass by the fear was starting to fade away and curiosity took its place we started brainstorming on what did actually happened to us ? were we scared of random noises? Was our brain messing with us out of fear? Many theories and logical reasoning can be created out of it , and we came up with best theory. that it could have been a bird that mimicks humans. sound reasonable right? after all some crows and parrot can basically have conversations! How hard can it be for it to whistle. And we all shrugged it off . As days passed by , it still didn't fit right with me so i decide to do some search about this place, usual like what kind of birds and animals are found in the area ? Well To my suprise there were none of the birds native that could mimick sounds also it is suppose to be the hunting ground for kites . so birds smaller in size tend to avoid the area which threw out Parrot theory out of the equation. As i went down the rabbit hole i found something that made my blood cold and made matter much worst. Apparently there were several cases of sucides and accidental deaths of many men, women and children's , some of which the bodies were never found . Police officers always seal the entrance with barricades during heavy rainy days but some local always manage to slipped pass by and had met with such unfortunate accidents i could not find any stories similar to ours but then again this spot was not know to many and was only known to locals. As am documenting this down . i to this days have no explanation to what could have happened to us that day . ghost ? Or something out of a folklore like skinwalkers? Or a mindgame of fear . I would leave this to your imagination . | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/1544c4f/a_skinwalker/ | TrueScaryStories | BusyConsideration298 |
false | Death | Ever since my great grandma died, I've had these... visons sort to speak. Terrified me as a child because if I dint get to bed on time, he would engulf me. He had no body from the shoulders down, so he's just a floating head... except, he's my papa. Looks just like him-he had already died months before my great grandma died. One main difference is that he was all... black.
I cried and cried once the lights went out from a black out. I thought it was him. It wasn't obviously, but I screamed so hard my parents shot up from bed. I've never went without a light for YEARS afterward. I still sometimes leave the light on to ward him off. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/153eumh/death/ | TrueScaryStories | Affectionate_Rope994 |
false | The Breathing Incident - My only paranormal experience | This is the only unexplainable/paranormal experience to ever happen to me, and I assure you, I haven't written a creative writing story since high school. I've tried to tell it exactly how it happened.
(Some background info for context)
I've always had trouble sleeping, once I'm asleep, I'm asleep and I don't wake up, in fact I usually sleep in and miss half the day, but I have never gotten to sleep easily, a true night owl.
It's not a fear thing or an anxiety thing, I just never get into the mindset to doze off, even in bed I can just spend all night watching videos on my phone, or reading, before that it was playing on my Gameboy as a kid. As far back as I can remember, I would even just lie there looking at the ceiling, thinking about things. wide awake as usual, checking the clock every now and then, getting more annoyed as more time passed.
This is still very much the case. I'm a terrible sleeper with no reason to be, no fear of the dark, usually no anxieties keeping me up, I'm just a person who can never seem to get to sleep.
So, this story takes place when I was 17.
I was a student in high school doing only science as my elected subjects and didn't grow up religious, just for some added background about the type of guy I was, a logical guy who valued facts, evidence and shit. You know what I mean.
# The Incidents
I was lying in bed, with my head propped up on 2 pillows, watching YouTube videos on my phone. It was around 2:30 am, and it was completely normal for me to be awake watching YouTube videos at the time. I was usually falling asleep at 4 or 5 am and waking up past midday, or even later. It was school holidays when the first incident happened, which is why I could get away with waking up so late, and staying up all night.
Anyway, I'm trying to say that despite the very late time of night I was certainly wide awake, not even tired. And this was normal for me. My bed was just as much a place to chill and watch stuff for me than it was a place to sleep.
So there I was watching YouTube videos on my phone, at 2:30 in the morning, when suddenly, I heard someone or something take a very deep breath in.
The sound of it alone was so loud and sounded so close to me that I was startled immediately and clutched my phone to my chest so it stopped producing light and fumbled for the volume button to turn the video down, before just hitting the power button on my phone. The video played for a second more and then finally fell silent, during this time I was still hearing the deep breath in.
Then there was a slight pause, and then, again, as loud as can be, a deep breath out.
It was slightly raspy, almost like Darth Vader, but less robotic, not machine like at all, and even slower breaths too, but similar in the way that you could hear the wind of every breath.
The deep breaths continued, and I looked at my bedroom windows, and to the foot of my bed, my phone still clutched to my chest as I'm pretty much frozen in fear, simply due to how loud, slow, and deep these breaths were.
each breath in and out lasted 2-3 full seconds each, and were as loud as a breath could be without actually being vocalized. It was as if whatever was making the breathing sounds was going "ahhhhhh" with every breath out before making a small "o" with their mouth with every suck in.
But not gasps, or vocalized noises, just breaths.
My mind was racing as to what sort of animal could make these sounds. But where I live, there are no big animals at all anyway, so I reasoned maybe the vents of the air conditioner or heaters or whatever were making some weird sound? but no. There's no small animal, or really any wild animal in the country (Australia), with the lung capacity to take breaths this deep, certainly not in suburbia where I live, definitely not inside my bedroom. The heating/cooling still works fine and silently to this day, over 6 years later, and besides, there's no vents even close to my bed.
all the while i was having these thoughts trying to justify the noise, I was still listening to the breaths.
So I kept staring at the foot of my bed, where I thought the sound was coming from, but really, the only reason I thought the sound was coming from the foot of my bed was due to the fact that behind it was the only spot in the bedroom I couldn't see, so my brain just immediately imagined someone crouching there.
This was Just because the breathing was SO loud and sounded SO close that it was, still is, impossible to me that it wasn't coming from inside my room, from right next to me. I honestly think it sounded even closer to me than the foot of my bed.
When trying to re-enact it to tell my friends, and when I recount this story to people, I couldn't and still can not make breaths as loud and as deep, and I’m an adult male.
Only something with a huge lung capacity could possibly, maybe a huge man, I imagine maybe a giant football player, but that's it. When you try to draw out a breath for a long time, they get quieter, if you try to breathe loud, your breaths get shorter, these breaths were both loud and long.
So I stayed there frozen, phone still clutched to my chest, staring towards the foot of my bed, then to the closed curtains, then back to the foot of my bed.
For a few moments I thought, maybe, someone might be pressing their face against my bedroom window, behind the curtains, and breathing loudly to scare me, but I ruled it out, because it was simply too loud. The windows were shut and locked with curtains in front of them that would have muffled the sound far far too much. This was like breathing in my ear.
with each possibility I ruled out while trying to justify what was going on, I just got more fearful of the noise.
So I just lay there in my "empty" bedroom, listening to these deep, ominous breaths, my eyes fixated on the foot of my bed, for realistically probably about 3 or 4 minutes, but it felt like 15, before it just... Stopped.
The breathing didn't really fade away, it just kind of stopped as quickly as it came, maybe got a tiny bit quieter for a brief moment before the sound went away entirely, vanished with one last breath out. and I was alone again.
I lay there for probably another 10 minutes without exaggeration, with my heart pounding in my ears before I calmed down enough to have the nerve to turn my phone screen back on, even then I just put it on my bedside table quietly and slowly, and then lay there all night.
I know I sound like a pussy right now, because it's just breathing, but it was honestly just that much of a whack experience.
And then it happened again.
About 4 months later, at a similar time of night, maybe 3am, again, it went on for about 4 minutes, slightly longer than the first time I believe, and I reacted in the exact same way.
The deepest, loudest, “breathiest” breaths I've ever heard, sounding like it's coming from within my bedroom, Like a huge man was standing right over me, right at the foot of my bed, or even closer right next to it, but of course there was nothing and no one around.
I've never been able to justify what happened at all, I know it seems like nothing because it's just breathing but all these years later I got goosebumps typing this out.
# More Info
I also want to note that at the time I wasn't doing any drugs, and I've never been on any sort of medication.
Since then, I've even had sleep paralysis, and done psychedelics and recreational drugs a fair amount. I've done high doses of acid, and smoked a lot of weed, and I've never had any sort of delusions or psychosis, at all, ever.
This certainly was not sleep paralysis either, I wasn't asleep, and there was no "paralysis", sure, I was frozen in fear as I felt vulnerable lying in bed in my underwear, but, both times I fumbled shutting my phone off clutching it to my chest, both times I was looking around my room turning my head back and forth frantically, people who have experience sleep paralysis know that you are truly paralyzed and can't move at all during the experience, and you wake up from it.
I can remember everything before the events, during, and after crystal clear.
It never happened again after those two times, and it is the only thing in my entire life that I truly cannot justify or explain, and I feel like I've thought of everything.
Some animal in the vents having it's breathing echoed and amplified? some weird problem with the vent itself? someone outside my window trying to scare me? someone outside my door? in my closet? all of these I've ruled out as impossible.
I know I've said this a lot, but the breaths were just too loud and organic, despite them being uniformly slow deep breaths, there was definitely a slight, human sounding, irregularity to them, in volume and in rhythm which was just terrifying. The fraction of a second pause in between the breath in and out was the scariest part for some reason, lying there, anticipating the next breath.
None of it makes sense, the only way I can describe it is it sounded like a giant man with an insane lung capacity, standing right over me looking down at me, taking the deepest, slowest, loudest breaths that he could muster for 4 minutes before suddenly disappearing into nothing, and then I was alone in bed again, scared shitless.
This may seem like not much since it's just noise, compared to other people's stories but I assure you this story is true, and not exaggerated. I tried to describe it as accurately as possible. I've told this story a million times to people whenever paranormal stuff comes up in conversation.
and it only makes it scarier to me that I've experienced sleep paralysis and drugs because, it just makes me more certain that this was real life, I know it was and it happened twice.
Experienced as sober as a Judge, wide awake, and calm at the time, of course, before the breathing scared the shit out of me.
This will sound trite and corny but yes, I am still afraid to hear it again.
And this will also sound corny but, I've been in real dangerous situations before and never even been half as scared as the pure dread and vulnerability I felt those two nights for those few minutes, and for the rest of the night lying there after it ended. It was truly fucked up.
I did not exaggerate or embellish any part of this story, sorry if I repeat myself too much, but I felt like I needed to hammer home how visceral and intense this experience was. So if anyone has any similar experiences I'd love to hear them.
As I said, I'm non religious, non superstitious, and at the time it happened I was even less so but, I kind of believe this shit was a fuckin ghoul.
Tldr: loud as fuck deep breaths sounding like someone standing over me or coming from the foot of my bed, when no one was there in the middle of the night. Lasting for a few minutes. Happened twice a few months apart. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/15391qx/the_breathing_incident_my_only_paranormal/ | TrueScaryStories | PINKFLUFFYETHAN |
false | Finally getting to share this | So, a much needed disclaimer first: English isn't my first language, I'm Italian, so apologies in advance for any grammatical horror I may end up giving birth to while typing this down.
This happened in the summer of 2007, it was told to me by the two girls who experienced it, who were friends of mine at the time - and also a couple. This is important for later. It all happened in central Italy, in Lazio, the region where Rome is, and I need to give some context about it: the area around Rome is full of hills, most of that region is, and underneath many of these hills sit ancient roman/pre-Christian catacombs. So many, in fact, that they're not even that big of a deal for the locals, and some of these catacombs even got converted into wine cellars or basements over the centuries. Some haven't. Again, this is important for later.
Now, these two girls, which we'll call E. and C., were in their early twenties, had been together for a year or so back then, and given how ludicrously expensive rents in Rome are decided to try their luck finding a flat in one of the small towns around that area, on those hills I've mentioned (mind you, those hills aren't ominous at all, if you've ever seen pictures from Tuscany that's what they look like, which is rather lovely).
And they did find a small apartment for rent in one of those towns, a renovated flat on the second floor of a much older house, which isn't surprising at all in that region as many houses are centuries old and just get renovated from time to time. On the ground floor of that apartment there were some neighbours, but they never got to see too much of them, a couple of apartments with old people living in them.
There was also a very old, sturdy wooden door, which was always closed and locked by a padlock, and when they asked the landlord where it led he told them it was the door to some old cellar nobody really used anymore, and supposedly was connected to one of the catacombs I've mentioned earlier. Again, it's an ancient country, and such things don't come across as particularly weird to us. Neither it did to E. and C., who just shrugged it off like "ok, makes sense".
So, E. and C. spent a few months in that town, not really bonding with anyone, mainly communting from there to Rome and back to work (C.) and study (E.). However, being a homosexual couple in an old town full of old and bigoted people, they quickly started noticing how unwelcome they really were there. They'd go to the local store to buy food and the clerk would ignore them on purpose, they'd find their mailbox emptied and all of their mail scattered over the floor outside their apartment, they'd even bump into people riding scooters around town passing them by and yelling "Goddamn, lesbians!". In short, they didn't have the best time there, but they knew it was only a temporary solution so they decided to just endure it all while waiting to move again. (and yes, FYI, Italy is still majorly conservative on the topic of LGBTQ, even moreso than now sixteen years ago)
Then, one morning, as she was stepping outside to go to the car and drive to Rome, E. found something on the ground right in front of their flat's door: a mussel shell had been placed there, with a doused red candle in it. And judging by the mess it made and how short the candle was by now, it had been burning for the whole night. Not knowing what to do with it, she picked up the shell with the candle and trew it in the garbage, together with all the wax she could scoop up from the floor. Another thing she noticed, when she finally set out to leave, was that that door - the sturdy wooden door downstairs that had always been closed up to that point - wasn't locked anymore. The padlock was gone, and it was opened just by a crack. But she didn't really pay much attention to it right then.
But then things started happening.
At first it was an uneasy feeling. E. and C. would be in their living room, sitting on the couch, reading, chatting, watching a movie, and suddenly they'd have this feeling like someone was watching them. Later on it became more than that: they'd hear noises around the house, like someone knocking on the walls in another room, or the toilet flushing on its own, water taps turning on by themselves in the kitchen. Quickly it became less than bearable.
One night, as they were sleeping, they both woke up in the middle of the night hearing the footsteps of bare feet in their living room. They started listening: it felt like the footsteps were simply pacing around, and there was nothing else - no voices, no items being moved, just the sound of bare feet in their living room. After a while C., feeling understandably scared, whispered "What's that?" to E., and as she did the footsteps stopped, as if noticing her voice in the silence of the apartment. They stopped, and a split second later they started sprinting towards their bedroom. E. grabbed C. and turned her face away from the door, doing so herself, just moments before the footsteps came through their bedroom's door and stopped to the side of the bed. "Don't look, whatever happens now don't look", E. told C., and held her in her arms for the rest of the night, neither of them sleeping, just listening in for those footsteps to finally leave or whoever it was to do something, anything at all. But nothing happened. They spent the next three hours wide awake, in silence, until dawn came and with that bit of sunlight finally shining through E. found the courage to turn around - and nothing was there.
Another night E., who was in university at the time, was up late studying in their living room as C. was sleeping. Like I said before, it was summer, and the window in the living room was open. She wasn't facing it, the window was to her left as she was sitting at the table taking notes. Suddenly, she felt the hair at the back of her head stand, and had that familiar feeling of being watched, so she instinctively turned to the window.
She described what she saw as "A completely pitch black human-like figure, perched on the windowsill, with no features on its face save for two very large orange glowing eyes, who just stood there motionless and stared at me". She couldn't tell me for how long she stared at it, she told me she felt completely paralyzed and helpless, and had the feeling that, had she tried to move or do anything, that thing would have lunged at her. Eventually, she couldn't hold it anymore, turned around and closed her eyes, took a long deep breath, and looked again - and it was gone.
After that, they contacted their landlord and decided to leave for good. They did so within a week since that event. The last thing E. noticed, as they were finishing packing their things up and leaving, was that that big wooden door, the one who had been left open ever since all of those events had begun, was now once again closed and locked shut with a padlock.
I hope you enjoyed, it's been 14 years since I was told all of this and ever since then I've never shared outside of conversations with a few trusted friends, I had been meaning to write it down eventually but never got around to it. And no, sadly I don't know the name of the town where this all happened, I'm not in touch with E. and C. anymore so I couldn't find out even if I wanted to - but knowing myself and what a massive dumbass I can be, I don't much mind not knowing, because I know I'd be tempted to go and take a look on my own, and that doesn't sound like it'd lead anywhere constructive. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/151el2c/finally_getting_to_share_this/ | TrueScaryStories | The_Friendly_Fiend |
false | High way | This one isn’t really scary but why does no one talk about the Pennsylvania high way from the airport? So a few years ago I was taking a plane with 2 other people to go to Pennsylvania to visit family. Everything was going good on the plane until when I was riding in my moms car I was looking out the windows and notice that the people didn’t look real. They had these really soft faces and when they had they’re hands on the steering wheel, they’re arms wouldn’t move. They would stay completely still and just go along with the road. This was in every single car that I saw. (I have no mental disorders that Ik of). They’re faces were the first things i noticed because they look immensely smooth and had not a pore in sight. Maybe I was just trippin idk. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/151blbv/high_way/ | TrueScaryStories | Professional_Pin2954 |
false | Stalked, my experience | This is a throw away account as I want to keep this a secret from my partner. I lived alone in a small house in a small town in New Zealand, far away from the biggest region Auckland. This all happened around 6 1/2 years ago, so some parts may be altered as I can't vividly remember this incident, when quite frankly I should. This was one of the scariest incidents that had occurred in my lifetime even until now. It all started, when one morning I decided to open my front door to go and buy groceries I had forgotten to purchase from the local market that started around 8:30 am everyday even on weekdays. Instead, I found the strangest thing waiting for me outside... Lying on the center on my doorstep, was a small USB Flash Drive. (so small that I nearly stepped on it.) At first, I was confused, and took a second to look around if anyone was pranking me. you know how those teens are these days I thought. But when the outside of my house was dead silent, the questions began to flood in my head. "Who put that there?" was the obvious first thought. It was just a generic USB stick, no label or anything. No-one would waste their time to walk up to my house, placing it on my doorstep I thought, but that was exactly what had just happened. There was no way to know where it came from, or who dropped it, or if they purposely did so for the soul purpose for someone curious and lacked common sense to plug it in. Well, I did what anyone else would do... I took it inside and thought it'd be smart to plug it into my computer. The device was full of pictures. In fact, nothing but pictures. Dozens of them filling every tiny space the USB drive could hold. I then opened the first picture and clicked through all of them in order. The first few were just shots from around town; general places that i recognized and pass through sometimes when im taking my morning stroll around the park. The 4th image was taken in our town's busiest street. In the image, the street was full of people, but there was somebody in it that caught my attention immediately. Me. The image showed me in amongst the crowd, just minding my own business buying groceries for my BBQ a day ago. Well at first I thought, "This was a small town... was it just a coincidence that i was in the picture?" The 5th image had been taken on the same day. Again, it was taken in our town. Again, I was in it. The photographer was closer to me this time, a little too close I thought. Whoever had taken these pictures of me, I hadn't noticed them at that time. Next came several more pictures of me in various locations around town. Then something more chilling... A photo of a house. My house. It was nighttime in that image, and the living-room light was on. I clicked through the next image. It was another image of my house, this time taken even closer. Through the living-room window you could see me sitting on the couch on my phone. I could tell from the clothes I was wearing that it had been taken the night before, right after I'd taken a shower. I had no idea somebody had been outside watching me. I kept clicking through the images on the drive. Photo after photo of me inside my house, taken from just outside my window. Because it was so light inside and so dark outside I was totally unable to see that somebody was watching me from out there. I couldn't see them, but they could see me clear as day... they didnt even need to use the camera light. After 20 or so pictures of me just inside my house,there came a real curveball. An image taken from inside my hallway. The man or woman or whoever was taking these pictures of me had been inside my house the night before. There were photos of my living room, now lightless and empty, obviously taken after I'd gone to sleep. Photos of my kitchen, of my dining area, my stairwell, and several taken as the unknown figure ascended my stairs, towards where I was sleeping. My brain started to run wild with thoughts about who had been following me "Had I wronged someone in the past? Said something wrong to the wrong guy? Was this just some weirdo who decided to target me? Were they armed when they came to pay me a visit?" Whatever the case, somebody had come inside my house at night and taken pictures of all my rooms... including my bedroom. The second-to-last picture was of me, fast asleep in bed, totally oblivious to the person in my home. The final image was just a hand-written note framed in closeup. The message simply read: "Never hide a spare key under your doormat." I have since moved house. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/150nfam/stalked_my_experience/ | TrueScaryStories | AggressiveCounter769 |
false | Help me find this story! | Ok so about a year ago I listened to this story on YouTube. I believe it was either BlueSpooky or Mr.Nightmare that read the story. But it was a true scary story about this girl that went to get an abortion at this guy’s apartment (I believe she went there bc it was after the abortion ban and she was told he was a doctor but he couldn’t do the abortion in office bc of the ban. But I could be wrong) So she went to the guy’s apartment and he gave her medicine to put her to sleep but he ended up trying to take her organs and her cornea. I think she woke up part way through the surgery. Some how (I don’t remember how) her mom showed up to the place and saved her daughter. I know this sounds crazy and I don’t have a lot of info but I mentioned this story to my mom and now she wants to know more. I swear this story exists but I have searched everywhere and I can’t find it. So please if anyone remembers this story or knows what it’s called or where to find it PLEASE comment. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/150veoe/help_me_find_this_story/ | TrueScaryStories | eramthgin_tsrow_ruoy |
false | The Haunting of Streamer Ethan | In the vast realm of online gaming, there lived a charismatic and wildly popular streamer named Ethan. Known for his infectious laughter, witty banter, and unmatched gaming skills, he had amassed a legion of dedicated fans who eagerly awaited his streams. However, little did they know that Ethan's life was about to take a dark and twisted turn that would shake the very foundation of their admiration.
It all began on a seemingly ordinary evening, as Ethan found himself immersed in his usual routine of browsing the internet for new and exciting games to feature on his stream. As he delved deeper into the depths of the web, his curiosity led him to a mysterious and foreboding website with the cryptic name "The Cursed Arcade."
The moment Ethan clicked on the website's link, an eerie sensation washed over him, sending shivers down his spine. The screen flickered with a dim glow, revealing an unsettling array of images, accompanied by cryptic messages that seemed to taunt him. Against his better judgment, Ethan couldn't resist the pull of the unknown, and with a mix of apprehension and intrigue, he proceeded deeper into the twisted corridors of The Cursed Arcade.
As he ventured further, each click revealing a darker facet of the website, an insidious force began to take hold of Ethan's consciousness. Unbeknownst to him, he had unwittingly opened the door to a malevolent entity that lurked within the digital realm, eagerly awaiting a vulnerable soul to ensnare.
With every passing day, the influence of The Cursed Arcade grew stronger, subtly but irrevocably altering Ethan's once vibrant personality. His infectious laughter turned hollow, his witty banter twisted into biting sarcasm, and his gaming skills, once a source of joy for his fans, became instruments of sinister manipulation.
During his streams, which had once been a source of delight and camaraderie, Ethan's behavior grew increasingly erratic and disturbing. He began to play a series of games that delved into the depths of darkness, filled with grotesque imagery and unfathomable horrors. The boundaries between the virtual and real world started to blur, and Ethan seemed to revel in the twisted scenarios that mirrored his own inner turmoil.
As his loyal fans watched in mounting confusion and concern, they noticed subtle signs that something was amiss. The once vibrant background of his streaming setup transformed into a somber and macabre scene. Strange symbols and cryptic messages began to appear, hidden in plain sight, as if the very essence of The Cursed Arcade had seeped into Ethan's streams, leaving an indelible mark on his content.
But the true horror of Ethan's story transcended the digital realm. The malevolent entity that had ensnared him no longer limited its influence to the virtual world. Slowly but surely, it clawed its way into Ethan's everyday life, driving him to commit unspeakable acts of darkness and cruelty.
Under the grip of the malevolent force, Ethan would often find himself wandering the shadowed streets during the midnight hours. In those moments, he became an instrument of terror, preying upon innocent victims with a merciless and sadistic intent. His once-bright soul had been tainted, corrupted by the unseen horrors lurking within The Cursed Arcade.
As the body count rose and the authorities struggled to comprehend the madness that had befallen their city, Ethan's fanbase grew increasingly divided. Some refused to believe that their beloved streamer could be capable of such horrors, attributing the eerie changes in his content to elaborate performance art. Others, however, began to connect the dots, piecing together the cryptic messages and symbols hidden within his streams, convinced that there was something much more sinister at play.
In the midst of the chaos and despair, a small group of loyal fans emerged, united by a shared determination to save Ethan from the clutches of darkness. Drawing upon their collective knowledge and fueled by an unwavering belief in redemption, they delved deep into the enigmatic lore surrounding The Cursed Arcade, desperate to find a way to sever the connection between Ethan and the malevolent entity that held him captive.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months as they unraveled the arcane secrets concealed within the digital abyss. Finally, through their tireless research, they unearthed an ancient ritual said to have the power to expel the malevolence and free Ethan from its grip. But the ritual came with great risks, for the boundary between success and catastrophe was perilously thin.
With unwavering determination, the loyal fans reached out to Ethan, revealing their findings and beseeching him to partake in the desperate ritual. Overwhelmed by the love and concern of his supporters, and feeling a glimmer of his former self buried deep within, Ethan resolved to confront the darkness head-on and put an end to the nightmare that had consumed his life.
On a moonlit night, the loyal fans and Ethan gathered in a secluded location, their hearts heavy with anticipation and trepidation. Candles flickered in the cool night breeze, casting dancing shadows upon their faces as they recited the ancient incantations passed down through generations.
As the ritual unfolded, the air crackled with an otherworldly energy, a potent mixture of hope and fear. With each word spoken, it was as if the combined strength of their unwavering belief and desperate longing infused the very fabric of reality.
In one climactic surge of supernatural power, the malevolent entity was forcibly ripped from Ethan's body, expelled into the void from whence it came. Collapsing to the ground, Ethan gasped for air, his eyes wide with a mix of relief, horror, and gratitude at the immense sacrifices made on his behalf.
As the first rays of dawn pierced through the darkness, Ethan rose from the ground, forever changed by his harrowing ordeal. He carried the weight of his past actions, haunted by the memories of the atrocities he had committed under the influence of The Cursed Arcade.
From that day forward, Ethan dedicated his life to atoning for his sins, using his platform as a streamer to raise awareness about the dangers that lurked within the shadows of the internet. He became an advocate for mental health, tirelessly encouraging others to seek help and resist the allure of the darker corners of cyberspace.
Though the scars of his past would never fully fade, Ethan found solace in knowing that he had a chance to rebuild his life and use his experiences to prevent others from succumbing to the same horrors. Through his ongoing journey of redemption, he inspired countless others to confront their own demons and strive for a brighter, more compassionate future.
And so, the tale of Ethan, the gaming streamer who unwittingly unleashed the malevolent power of The Cursed Arcade, serves as a chilling reminder of the dangers that can lurk within the virtual world. It urges us to remain vigilant, to question what we encounter online, and to remember that behind the screens and avatars, there are real people whose lives can be forever altered by the darkness that lies in wait. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/150invq/the_haunting_of_streamer_ethan/ | TrueScaryStories | ItzImNotReal |
false | A spirit poses as my mom, trying to lure me downstairs to her. | This took place a couple years ago, when I was just 13 or 14 years old. I was living in a two-story house with my parents and older sister. For some quick context, you need to know our house’s layout was a little different. All the bedrooms were upstairs, with the master bedroom being down a hallway that had railings on one side that gave clear view from the stairs and vice versa.
Now, It’s around midnight when I just came out the bathroom. I decide that I’ll go downstairs to the kitchen to grab a water bottle before I go to bed. As I approach the stairs, I notice all the lights downstairs were turned off. Before I had entered the bathroom, my mom was downstairs and all the lights were previously on. At the time, I was still scared of the dark; so, I decide to just look down from the railing to make sure the coast is clear as I muster up the courage to go downstairs. Suddenly, I hear a woman talking quietly in a foreign language. She sounds like my mom, but not entirely. And although I’m not completely fluent in my native language, I can’t decipher a single word being spoken. Even then, who would she be talking to? My dad is upstairs in their bedroom. And if she’s on the phone, why call in the dark? Trying not to think too much of it I just call out, “Mom?”
The voice stops. I approach the stairs and take a few steps down, trying to get a better look as I call out again, “Mom!”
“Sam!” She finally speaks.
“Mom? Mom what are you doing? Where are you?” Although she still doesn’t quite sound like my mom, I think nothing of it and descend a few more steps to try and see her.
“Sam, come downstairs!” She calls urgently.
Although confused, I take a few more steps. At this point, I’m halfway down the stairs. As I’m about to call out to her again (as I still see no sign of her) she says yet again, “Come downstairs!” but with more urgency than before.
However, literally simultaneously I hear my actual mom talking from above me. The two voices overlapping, sounding almost exactly the same.
I look towards the hallway and see the master bedroom lights shining from beneath the door, and a laugh from my dad following my real mom’s words. I look back down the stairs with horror on my face, still seeing nothing but darkness. As I turn around to run back to my room, I hear the woman laughing. No longer sounding anything like my mother. I race back to my room safely and text my family. After confirming with my sister and parents, they all claimed to have been in their rooms at that moment.
I firmly believe on that night, there was a jinn waiting for me in our kitchen. I had previous experiences with a female-voiced spirit talking to/harassing me. I’m not sure if she was just trying to scare me with all these moments, or if she had something in mind planned. Either way, the situation frightened me so much I got a verse from my holy book printed and attached to the front of my door to protect me from her and other spirits. It worked, and I was never bothered again. Shortly after, we moved. | https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueScaryStories/comments/1502295/a_spirit_poses_as_my_mom_trying_to_lure_me/ | TrueScaryStories | johns_______________ |