|Author||The Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai (One Hundred Ghost Stories) Thread|
| 4 mo ago
Inspired by the already existing Haiku Thread I decided to bring another Japanese tradition to MangaDex, the Collection of One Hundred Ghost Stories or rather Supernatural Stories. This is a Japanese tradition that came out of use after the Edo Period but is interesting nonetheless. So interesting, in fact, that I decided to revive it. The goal is to tell 100 supernatural stories.
As we do this on the Internet, I believe we can neglect the part with lighting 100 lanterns and then extinguishing one of them after every story, looking in a mirror while doing so. As this is thought to summon spirits after the 100th lantern is extinguished it might even be better to not do so, regardless if spirits exist or not.
Although the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai is an Edo Period ritual, there are still enough ghost story tellings in manga nonetheless. So let's do like our favorite characters and tell some supernatural stories. Japanese or otherwise, traditional legend, urban legend, ancient myth, own experience or self-witten sory. It doesn't matter in the least. The point is the story being scary, nothing else.
So let's go and collect 100 ghost stories.
Last edited 4 mo ago by Albwin.
| 4 mo ago
Title: The Countess of Orlamünde - a ghost origin story from Germany
Author: Brothers Grimm, translated and retold by Albwin
Story Number: 1
Allow me to start off with a ghost story from my homeland, Germany. This story shows that the stories behind the origin of a ghost may often even be more gruesome and scary than the specter itself.
Plassenburg Castle in Kulmbach is said to be haunted by the ghost of a noblewoman. In life she was Agnes of Merano, daughter of a Duke and wife to Count Otto of Orlamünde with whom she had two children, a boy and a girl. When Otto died, the boy was three, the girl two years old. Agnes, young as she was, didn't wish to remain a widow for long.
One day she heard that Albrecht the Fair, Burgrave of Nuremberg had said he would be willing to marry the beautiful widow if nor for two pairs of eyes. Countess Agnes believed the Burgrave was talking about her two children and bribed one of her retainers, called Hayder or Hager, two kill her children.
The children, feeling their impending doom tried to bring the killer over to their side.
"Oh, dear Hayder, let me live! Orlamünde I will give and Plassenburg too will then go to you." spoke the boy.
"Oh, dear Hayder, let me live, for all my dolls I will then give." the girl promised.
It didn't help though, for Hayder killed the children mercilessly. Under torture he later regretted killing the children but then it was too late already.
Others say the Countess killed the children herself by driving needels into the children's skulls.
Whatever the story, the Burgrave never married the Countess, for the pairs of eyes he had talked about were his parents. In the end, Countess Agnes went from Plassenburg Castle to the monastery of Himmelskron while wearing shoes inwardly filled with nails and needles. After this torture she died while entering the church portal in Himmelskron. Her sins never left her, though, and so she is left to haunt Plassenburg Castle.
Human greed and unscrupulousness is still the scariest thing ever, be it in the Middle Ages or be it today.
| 4 mo ago
I guess there's no choice,
I shall take the first step then,
I hope it's allowed.
Title: I found a USB Stick/The Long Face.
Story Number: 2
About a week ago I found a usb stick on the way to a pc repair business where I work part time. It looked really standard, just a small metal box. I only saw it because the sun reflected off the case. For a second I thought that the pavement had just erupted into light. Anyway, I decided to take it to the police station after work but of course, because I work with computers, the temptation to look at the contents was too much.
There were a few folders with incomprehensible names, and 3 others: "Case Notes", "Training", and "Emails". There were about 100 emails, mostly unconnected, but a few were really interesting. Usually, I wouldn't go snooping through such private information, but I felt such a strange urge. In the end, I kept it. I think I'm going to hand it in to the police still, sometime in the future. I'm going to share with you the more interesting emails, ordered and formatted (where appropriate) for easier reading, and maybe you can help me decide what to make of it.
How's it going? I know we haven't spoken lately, I've been busy with uni and there's some drama been going on in my family, and I've basically had no time. Sorry about that. I'm emailing because I need some advice (what's with the fucking hotmail account by the way?). It's about Becky of course. You helped me out so much going through all that shit with her. I still think about her practically everyday, but I've taken your advice. It's been difficult avoiding contact, but I've managed. Ok, I still have her number even though she deleted mine, but I blocked her on facebook and all that other stuff. Well, until she fucking emailed me yesterday. She needs help, it's about John, the new guy. I want to punch his head in. She seems really upset. Should I reply?
No lol, doesnt matter why, you dont talk to a bitch until at least a year after ok?
Good luck, Dan
Subject: Hey Matt, we need to talk
I hope life is treating you well. It's been a while huh? Any girls in your life? The past week I've been thinking about you a lot. I remember the moment when you said that you never want to speak to me again so clearly. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I know my old address is blocked, I made this one to contact you. If it's ok, can we talk?
John has been acting weird and I need some help. I'm asking you because... Well Matt, to tell you the truth, I'm getting scared of John and you are the last guy I've been close to other than him for a while, and I don't want to tell my friends because they might judge him. Am I becoming a stereotype? Ok, if you don't immediately want to delete this email, please keep reading and I'll explain, but if you want, continue to ignore me and I will understand, and I really will never to try and contact you again.
Last month John tidied up the bathroom. Sounds stupid I know, but he really went at it. I went in there and it was spotless. The surfaces gleamed, he'd put some sort of freshener down, and everything was exactly in its right place. You know how much stuff I have, we can't fit both our toothbrushes in the cupboards, so we lay them down by the sink? They were parallel to each other, completely straight, completely aligned. I was a bit freaked out, but I was also proud, you know? He just acted nonchalant, like it was nothing.
Soon the rest of the house is super tidy. All the books are ordered alphabetically, everything put away, the magazines on the coffee table stacked up in a square. I'm a bit weirded out, and I ask him what's up? He says that it doesn't matter. Why would he be doing so much for me? My first thought was that he was cheating on me. I have his facebook password, so I checked, and nothing. His phone? Nothing. At the time, I was still suspicious, but not anymore.
A week and a bit ago, I go into the kitchen, and he's rooting through the cutlery draw. He's picking up pieces of cutlery, examing them, and laying some on the counter and putting some back in the draw. The ones on the counter are perfectly aligned. I asked him what the fuck he was doing, and he responded with "we don't need all this cutlery Becky, I'm going to throw these out." I said "John, I know that's bullshit," and he got really angry, really defensive, so I left.
Last night I woke up at about 1, and John wasn't in bed. I heard him rummaging around downstairs. I snuck to the top of the stairs. Remember the coat hanger in the hall? We put a small bookcase next to it, and he was rifling through the books, taking some out. He was speaking to himself, whispering numbers and equations. I said "John..." and he looked up. I said "what are you doing?"
He said "Honey... There are 75 books on this bookcase. That's 3 times 25, which is 5 times 5. It likes 5s."
I was shocked and said "What likes 5s?"
He said "The Long Face," and then started sorting books again, ignoring me. I guess his behaviour over the past month got to me and I snapped. I ran downstairs, shouted at him and tried to put some of the books back on the bookcase. He grabbed at me Matt, he fucking grabbed at me. I couldn't move he was so strong. He pulled his free hand back, and I thought he was going to hit me. He said very carefully, very slowly "This bookcase needs 49 books. 7 times 7. It doesn't like 7s. It likes 5. Ok? I'm going to have to train you up." I was so scared, I ran out of the house.
Wow, that was longer than I thought. I'm staying at Alex's right now. Can you come over? Even if you can't help sort this out, talking would be great.
Hope to see you soon, Becky.
Subject: I don't care, I'm gonna do it.
I've thought it through, and I'm gonna talk to her. I don't care what you think.
Subject: Holy shit, it's worse than I thought.
Sorry about being a dick in that last email Dan, but I think I still love her. But listen, shit has really hit the fan, and at this point I just need someone to tell.
I went round to Alex's (Becky is staying there), and as soon as I knock on the door she flies out and gives me the strongest hug I have ever felt. Her face was so red, I think she'd been crying non stop since she left her house. Shit, I forgot you didn't know. John was being weird and she felt she had to leave. So, I comforted her, and got her some hot chocolate. Alex had fucked off somewhere, she probably didn't want to deal with Becky. Once she had calmed down enough, she asked if I would escort her back to her house and maybe confront John. I was looking foward to that let me tell you.
When we got to her house she told me I should go in first. On the doorstep were 7 neat piles of books. I slowly pushed the door open, and called out to John. There was no answer. Becky had told me before that the house was tidy, but walking in there freaked me out a little. It was like the house had no inhabitants, had never had inhabitants.
We searched around, and I kept calling for John, but he didn't respond. Every room was so fucking tidy and put together, we were both on the edge of saying, let's just go. And then I checked the bathroom. There was a trail of blood leading from the sink to the bath. In the bath was John. He was so pale, his arms slit from palm to elbow. I almost threw up and tried to stop Becky from coming in. But she did. And then she threw up.
We called the police obviously, but while we were waiting I noticed something. John was holding a small book. It looked like a diary. You know those moleskin things? One of those. And I took it, I don't know why. Becky didn't notice. She was pretty shaken up. Still is of course. What should I do with this thing. I can't give it in now? Actually, when are you in town? I'd love to speak in person.
Subject: Meeting up
Wow thats fucked up. I hope youre ok man. Listen, im still away for like a month. Two at the most. Dont do anything stupid ok? I hate not talking in person, im so bad at it. You'll be alright.
Subject: The Diary
I read the fucking diary. I guess it was written by John, and it explains his behaviour. Its not really a diary, more an encylopedeia I guess. Apparantly John believed in this entity called The Long Face. It doesn't really explain what it is, but lists loads of rules for dealing with this thing. It likes multiples of 5s and will seek them out, it hates 7s, stuff like that. Pile things in this arrangement etc. What a freak.
Subject: I guess freakishness is contagious :P
The weirdest thing happened to me today. I was getting rid of some old dvds (holy shit remember four lions? Such a good movie), and I noticed there were 5 dvds on one of the shelves in front of me. It made me think of The Long Face. I laughed at myself, but as I went to put the dvd I was holding into the bag, I saw a face. On the bag I mean. The two clips looked like eyes, and the opening looked like the mouth. Yeah laugh if you must. I got 2 dvds out of the bag and put them on the shelf. The face was gone after that. I probably knocked the bag into a different position.
Becky is doing fine now. She wants to move out of her old house but the contract lasts until september, so she is going to try and find some replacement tentants. I know it's very soon but I think I'm going to ask her out again. We should get back together. What do you think?
Subject: I think I'm losing my mind
Becky said yes! I took her to that italian place you love and we pretended it was out first ever date. It was great. But listen, this long face stuff is freaking me out.
I keep seeing it everywhere. I'll be walking along and a car will pass, and the front of it will look like a face. I keep seeing faces in the froth of my coffee, in the shapes that buildings make. I'm going to make a confession to you Dan. I've started counting things. The books and dvds first, then cutlery. I think it's because I heard that John counted this stuff too. Everything has to be in multiples of 7. If they aren't, or even worse, if I see a multiple of 5, I see more faces. And each face I see looks angrier and angrier. As I'm typing this I can see the speakers as eyes, the keyboard as a mouth.
I know this bullshit is all in my head, but I can't help it. I'm having problems sleeping.
Subject: It's getting worse
You know that drawer that everyone has? Filled with all the shit in your house that doesn't have anywhere else to be? Well it's been driving me crazy. I can't know if it's safe if I don't TIDY IT UP.
Subject: Becky :(
Becky caught me putting all the screwdrivers from the drawer in size order. She left, Dan. She left.
Subject: Why aren't you replying?
I was walking to work to0day. I saw a car face and I was so sca4red. It was coming towards me and it looked like it wanted blood. I thought it was going to swerve and hit me, and that would be that. I figured out how to stop it though. It was red, so I started counting all the red cars. When I'm counting it seems to get confused. As I was walking into work I was at 20. I pretended I had counted 1 more, but it knew. Tomorrow I'm go7ing to do Blue.
i just want this to stop
y did i read the book? People need to be trained to repelu THE LONG FACE. They need to know. But why me? :(
I counted the pages in the diary. 125. 5 timess 5 ttimes 5. Mayb THE LONG FACE wants us to read it. Wat if I miscoutner? 126 is a multiple of 7. I'll do it again
Subject: We had a good one
I'm going to burn the book Matt. If no one can read about this, maybe whatever fucking evil it is will just dissapate. Hopefully my emails haven't been enough to trigger it for you. Don't come over Dan. We are no longer friends.
Subject: I'm coming over
I'm back in a week. I'm coming over. Why the fuck haven't you answered your phone?
And that's it. There are no more emails by Dan, Matt or Becky. I've thought about it for a while, and I reckon something happened to Matt. I don't know whether he succeeded in burning that journal, or what might have happened to it if he didn't, but something must have got him. I keep thinking about that last email. Why wouldn't he answer the phone?
| 4 mo ago
Why you even tell such scary story in here!
Are you guys just masochist or something?
| 4 mo ago
That's the idea of this thread and the Japanese tradition behind it. Although, in my case, I have started this thread because I both like some pleasant scares (only reading this by daylight, though) and am interested what kind of tales will come about and whether they have obvious or hidden elements of traditional folklore.
P.S.: If you'd like, why not add a story yourself? Sharing a story that frightens you could possibly take it off your mind instead if you really don't like this kind of story. And no worries, only the 100th story will summon a spirit according to Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai tradition. As the third storyteller you'd still be safe.
Last edited 4 mo ago by Albwin.
| 4 mo ago
Hello there, it's me,
back with another story.
Title: I've come to terms with the fact that everything I know is a dream.
Story Number: 3
As a preface, please note that this will probably be very long. I don't care if nobody reads it; everyone in the world could read it and nothing would change. I just need to voice my concerns for my own sake. Perhaps by organizing everything on a page I can make sense of things.
Several years ago, I was in a brutal car accident. I was parked in front of a train track, waiting for the train to pass by. I was the last person not to make it across the tracks. For visualization, there was a solid stream of cars on either side. If I had tried to sneak across, I would have rear-ended the person in front of me before successfully clearing them.
I could hear the train approaching, and the black-and-yellow bars lowered in front of me. I am fascinated by trains, so I was delighted to be so close, finally getting a front row seat. The train was about a quarter mile from the crossing when the driver behind me accelerated and nudged me forward a few feet. The bars bent and eventually snapped, and I was knocked joltingly onto the tracks. I panicked and threw the car into reverse, trying to back out. The other car apparently had more horsepower, however, and to my horror my car door aligned perfectly with the cattle guard on the front of the train.
I scrambled to get out of the car, but forgot about my seatbelt. I nearly strangled myself trying to get free. By the time I unlatched it, it was too late. One fraction of a second of the loudest sound I had ever heard, and then blackness and silence. I was certain that I had died. I didn't feel any pain, and certainly if I had survived I'd be in agony. I tried to open my eyes, but nothing would happen. I tried to make a sound, to wiggle my fingers, or do anything, but I couldn't. It wasn't that I was paralyzed; it was more like I didn't have a body to manipulate. I was just a mind submerged in a pool of nothing. The only sentiment I felt was that I had returned to that state after being gone for a long time; like forgetting how your parents' house smells until you visit home for the holidays.
Gradually, I started to have feelings of sensation. Passing waves of warmth and wetness finally allowed me to determine where the edges of my body were. Almost as soon as I became aware of my physical self, it began to ache. I felt as if every inch of me had been pummeled with a baseball bat--the heavy wooden kind. Even opening my eyes was a spectacular ordeal.
I was in a hospital. So I had survived after all. People moved to surround me. Faces that never fully came into focus hovered above my own, and sounds that vaguely resembled speech seemed to reach me through water. It wasn't long before I felt weak again and my eyes closed.
This fading in and out of consciousness lasted for what felt like a very long time, maybe months, though the doctors told me it was only a matter of days. After that, I worked on speaking and swallowing food, which seems silly, but it was actually a challenge at the time. Finally, as more and more casts were removed, I was allowed to sit up and turn my head, for which I was incredibly grateful.
According to my family and my then-girlfriend Sarah, all of whom were overjoyed at being able to speak with me, I was asleep for several days on end after the crash. I remember Sarah specifically saying she had missed being able to "stare at those beautiful eyes."
Time passed at an excruciatingly slow pace until physical therapy finally escalated to the point where I could be pushed around in a wheelchair. The doctors were surprisingly hopeful that I'd be able to walk again, but it was what they called "cautious optimism." Nobody wanted to tell me I could be independent again and then have to admit they were wrong later. Obviously I was very hopeful myself, though even transferring from chair to bed was a painful challenge. It was around this time that I noticed I never dreamed anymore. When I slept, I only felt the same nothingness that I felt immediately after the crash.
All the days blended together for a while after that. The next memory I can actually separate from the rest is the first time I tried walking on my own. There were staff members holding on to my arms and waist, just in case I fell, and with their help, I made it all the way across the room on my first try. The doctors said they had never seen such a rapid recovery. I was giddy.
Obviously I wasn't out of the woods yet, but soon I was allowed to live at home again with frequent PT sessions, and some weeks after that, I returned to work. Life was almost normal for a while. Except for a very slight limp in my left leg, the side that the train hit me on, I was feeling pretty normal. It was only after about a month of living in my own house that weird things started to happen.
The first thing I noticed was that I felt an occasional stinging on my right forearm, like a thin needle was puncturing my skin. It was a tiny prick, maybe twice a day at most. I figured it was just nerve trauma or something and blocked it from my mind. Feigning ignorance was harder to do when I started hearing things, though. While I was reading in bed one night, I thought I heard Sarah crying. I strained my ears to make sure, and I definitely heard her sobs, but very distantly, like I was submerged in a pool.
I made my way downstairs quickly, concerned that she had hurt herself or something, but she was just washing dishes in the kitchen. "Are you okay?" I asked cautiously.
"Yeah, why?" She asked nonchalantly.
I dismissed these oddities as best I could. After all, how could anyone expect to recover from being hit by a goddamn train without some lingering effects? Every so often, mostly when I was trying to fall asleep or sitting in a silent room, I would hear occasional sounds that I couldn't connect at first. Gradually, I determined that they were hospital sounds--stretchers being rolled across tiled floors, beeping from machines, rapid chatter between nurses and doctors.
Although I figured anyone who had suffered as much trauma as I had would experience some degree of whatever I was experiencing, I decided to bring it up with my doctor. He told me it was perfectly normal for someone in my circumstances, and he could prescribe me a sleep aid if I felt it was necessary. I told him it wasn't a big deal; I was just satisfied that a doctor could explain my symptoms.
The odd glimpses of what seemed to be my past only increased in frequency. When I slept, I finally dreamed again, but it was always the same thing. If I saw anything at all, it was a hospital room. Sometimes there were other people in the room, and sometimes I was alone with the machines.
There was one night in particular in which the dream was more vivid and gripping than usual. My eyes opened wearily to see Sarah asleep on the chair beside my hospital bed. "Sarah?" I croaked. She jerked awake.
"Henry!" She scrambled to my side, clutching my hand. At this point, it occurred to me that I was dreaming. I stared right into Sarah's eyes.
"I'm asleep right now."
She seemed concerned. "No, Henry. You're finally awake. I'm right here. It's been so long."
"Of course you would say that. You're a part of my dream." I smiled, amused. "I'll probably wake up any second." But as I spoke the familiar soreness caught up to me all at once. It practically knocked the wind from my lungs.
"Henry, no." Her distress was now evident. "I don't know what you're talking about. Stay with me, Henry. Stay awake. Look at me." I shook my head defiantly and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I was back in my own bed. It was about 3:00 in the morning. I sat awake, pondering what I had just seen. I thought I heard Sarah crying again, even though I could see her sleeping beside me.
When Sarah finally woke up, she rolled over and laid an arm across my chest. "Good morning, big guy." She smiled groggily.
"If I was asleep right now, would you tell me?" I asked.
"What?" She chuckled. "That's kinda heavy stuff to drop on a sleepy person."
"Just bear with me. If I was asleep right now--dreaming, you know--would you tell me?"
"Well, I feel pretty real," she noted, patting different parts of her body. "Do you think I'm not real?"
"Of course not," I said. We got ready for our day. I couldn't stop thinking about my dream, though. I noticed that when I tried really hard to space out at work, and listened closely enough, I could hear the hospital sounds more clearly. I was naturally concerned about this.
That night, I went to bed early, and just as I thought, I was transported immediately to the hospital bed. I felt the thin sheets beneath my fingers. I opened my eyes, and Sarah was reading a book in the same chair as before. I just looked at her for a long time, trying to discern if she was real. She certainly seemed real enough. She turned pages with the same flourish that she always had, and chewed on one of the temples of her reading glasses.
Eventually, she looked up and met my eyes. "You're awake again!" She gasped. "Victoria! Paul! He's awake!" My parents entered the room moments later, looking excited.
I talked with them all for a long time. Of course, my parents, too, denied the fact that I was asleep, but that topic passed quickly. Instead, we discussed my condition. I had been in a coma for almost three months with little response. They had been slowly losing hope for my recovery until my brain showed signs of activity. Since that time, they had been visiting me frequently, hoping that I would wake up. It seemed a pretty convincing story.
After many hours of talking, I had to stop; I was legitimately sleepy. Of course, they all understood and I fell back asleep. Only this time, I didn't wake up in my own bed. I woke up in the same hospital bed a few hours later. I had to think about it for a very long time, but eventually concluded that I must have imagined my miraculous recovery, and had been in a coma the whole time after all. As you can imagine, it was hard to accept at first.
Since then, I have been making a second recovery, which has been slower and less successful than the first. That's why, for a long time, I was mostly convinced that I'm really awake this time. Nobody walks after getting blindsided by a train, at least not without lots of hard work. I've still only left my wheelchair on crutches, and it's been six years.
It probably sounds like a bittersweet ending, and at one point I agreed. I was prepared to live happily-ever-after in my wheelchair, and maybe even graduate to crutches someday, except for one thing. When I'm getting ready for bed, after I turn off my lamp and my head hits the pillow, I can still hear them; the faint sounds of a busy hospital.
I know that many of you will say "But I'm real. This is real life. Of course you're awake." But that's what you're supposed to say. Nobody's going to tell me "I'm fake. You're dreaming, wake up." I'm still asleep, and I've learned to deal with it. I know that nobody I meet during the day is real, but I'm tired, so I just pretend, and that will have to do.
| 4 mo ago
Deep in my archive,
dredged from my many stored files,
Past and future posts
will be placed in a spoiler
to conserve screen space.
Story Number: 4
I was browsing the internet, like I normally do, on a Sunday evening. The sun was going down slowly and I was preparing to do my usual set of tasks. Homework for Monday morning, a quick game on Xbox Live and then draw for half an hour.
Only thing was, I had somehow found my way onto a random thread called “Urban Legends.” I am a sucker for this shit. There's something about urban legends that just fills me with wonder and imaginative possibility.
Being the curious browser that I am, I began scrolling down through the mountainous thread and noticed that it was 100 pages or more by now. As I went through the board, post by post, I saw classic urban legends and trolls posting terrible pictures before being removed from the thread.
At about page 28, I realized that I had been on this thread for an hour easily. I was bouncing back and forth from youtube and facebook, but I had wasted quite some time on this endeavour. Around page 45 I decided I was done reading and had no more interest in the thread.
However, before I could close my browser and move on, I noticed something strange. An anonymous user had posted on the thread, leaving a link. In all caps, they had written, “SCARY SHIT PEOPLE.” I hadn't seen anyone post a link without a description thus far. I had a feeling that it was a virus or another fucked up picture of some dude mutilating his crotch again.
I persisted in clicking it though. My hand moved the cursor of the mouse to the back button, in case it was exactly what I assumed it was. The link followed through to a maroon coloured HTML styled page with no advertisements, no other colours and no pictures. Just a maroon page with a download file in the center.
I had no idea what the Oshavein was. I opened a new tab and googled it, wikipedia'd it, googled it again. Nothing. There was no such thing as 'The Oshavein'. Being as it was just an image file, I decided that I would go ahead and download it.
The download began and the time estimator started at 30 minutes. 30 minutes? That's a huge freakin' file! I decided I'd kill some time by watching youtube and chatting on facebook until the file finally finished. The file downloaded and I paused the video I was watching.
“Let's see what that anon was so scared of.” When I opened the download folder, there was no preview image, I checked the information on it and was shocked to see that it was a file from November 14, 2000. I was actually hesitant to click it and find out what it was.
There was something unsettling about an unknown file like this being on my computer. When I went to open the file, someone messaged me on facebook and scared the shit out of me. I answered their question and started talking to them again. They kept me occupied for 15 minutes before leaving a 'brb'.
I had to check now. There was no excuse. It was just a picture, there was no way there was a virus on it. Otherwise my anti-virus protection would have been going nuts. I slowly double clicked on the image and awaited the loading box to disappear and show me what I had been dreading taking a peek at.
The image finally loaded. It was a black and white picture of a highway. In the back ground there was a forest. The trees were black silhouettes and the light source was obviously from a noon day sun. The road was the dividing line from the side of the road that the picture had been taken on and the other side with the trees.
At first my observations were quick and I saw nothing that could be considered scary. Until I noticed something standing in and amongst the trees. I thought it was an animal at first. But my guess was quickly replaced with a new one. It was a man. At least I thought it was.
He wasn't tall, in fact... He was just sort of above average height. He couldn't have been more than 6 feet. I noticed that his head was shrouded by a black hood and his arms were outstretched, holding onto two of the trees beside him. As I continued inspecting his area of the picture, I felt like I was being stared at right back.
I couldn't see his face, but there was something off about how perfectly his head was angled. Chills ran down my spine and I minimized the preview window quickly. I tried to shake off the feeling and set my laptop aside. “It's just a picture you dumb ass,” I said aloud, bopping myself in the head.
I began working on my homework and that same feeling returned. When I looked over at my computer, the preview window was still minimized. I decided I'd open it again and see if I could make out any details about his face. When I expanded the window, the figure from before was now standing at the highway with his hands in his pockets.
I shuddered and pulled back slightly. How the hell did that happen? I peered at the now closer shadowy figure and could make out details about his appearance. He was wearing a black hoody, black jeans and black shoes. His face however... I don't know how to explain it, but it... It was pointed.
Instead of a human-esque face... What I saw was almost like a bird. His chin came to a point and a massive grin went up either side of his face. He had only one eye, his right eye. It stared back at me, I could feel it watching me. The camera angle was exactly the same. It was as if the photographer had stayed put and the subject had moved forward.
I waited for the picture to move, perhaps it was an altered file that exchanged every once in a while. But nothing happened. No movement or suspicious data alteration. After a while I decided to minimize it again. Why I didn't exit out of the preview... I'll never know. I guess I was just curious.
Another hour later, I opened the preview window again. I actually gasped aloud and pushed my computer away when I saw the picture once again. The figure was now on the photographer's side of the highway. The face was clearer now. The teeth were huge. I could see that the eye was shaped like a cross with the actual eye beneath it.
The eye inside the design stared at me. I was beginning to feel uneasy, but there was always a small part of me that kept saying that it couldn't hurt me. After all, it was just a download file from a strange HTML site... Needless to say however, I closed the window finally. After I finished my homework, I started up my Xbox and waited patiently for the invites to parties to flood my inbox.
As I started chatting away, I couldn't help but feel the need to see the picture again. I needed to see if the man would still be there. I clicked the file again and felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The man was now only a few yards away from the camera. Upon closer inspection, his black hoody was plastered to his stomach in some areas, covered in something that made the black a little lighter. I finally could see the face clearly. The huge toothy grin that I had seen before, was now revealed to be open slightly. Hanging from his mouth was the fingers of a foreign hand.
I shivered and minimized it. Everyone in my party began asking what I was doing, I kept telling them that I was watching a stupid video, or reading a crappy fan fiction. I didn't want them to know I was scared out of my mind, staring at a picture from the internet.
I decided I'd play a few games with my friends to take the edge off. After my 5th match in a row, my adrenaline was pumping and I was feeling confident and courageous. Without a moments hesitation, I quickly full sized the image and backed away as far as I could after seeing the image before me.
The man... Shit... I don't even know if you could call it that anymore... The creature was now full frame, holding the edges of the camera. The fingers inside it's mouth were gone and it suddenly dawned on me. The photographer was the one that had been eaten by this thing. Whoever... Or whatever this thing was, it was probably the one that had taken the picture... Pictures...
It's eye was staring at me. I could feel the contact as if the creature was breathing and staring behind the screen into my soul. I shuddered and went to close the window once again. When I hit the exit button, I could almost swear I saw the thing move... Like it moved forward into the camera once more and then the window vanished.
I never opened the file after that. I deleted it and made sure my system was clean of anything remotely close to the title of 'TheOshavein.png'
Later on in the week, during my photography class, I was out doing nature shots. I had gotten a good bunch of shots and was ahead of schedule. With a grin on my face I walked up to one of my friends and started showing off in front of them. “You asshole! You always get the best shots!” I felt great, way better than that Sunday evening anyways.
That is, until my friend pointed something out to me. “Hey uh... Who the hell is that?” I looked down at the little preview screen. Standing in amongst the trees of one of the shots I took, was the shadowy form. He was grinning proudly, with his arms outstretched towards the camera.
| 4 mo ago
I know what you think,
"It's too soon for Halloween."
It's an exception.
Story Number: 5
I won't reveal who I am, or much about where I live...and to be honest, it's been a few months since this happened. But I just came to terms with it now, and I have to warn people about what's out there, what they knew, what we don't. Warning: this is a very long read, and some of the content below is very disturbing. But I can't hold back. Here's my story:
Occasionally, I like to go hiking with my friends. There's not much more to do, honestly. We live in a small mountain town in Colorado. It was fun at first, but by now, we know the trails by heart. By the end of last Summer, there was only one we hadn't tried.
Now, there's a reason for that. The trail goes right through a portion of the forest that the Ute people considered sacred. I'll admit, I have hangups when it comes to these things. You don't wear hats in a church. You don't let the American flag touch the ground. You don't trudge all over somebody's sacred land for the fun of it. Still, my friend---we'll call him Mark---convinced me to go. He said that regardless of whether I went, he'd go anyway. And since no one else was going, he managed to goad me into going with him. That's another one of my hangups: don't go hiking alone, don't let friends go hiking alone. Too many tragic news stories start that way.
So, I ended up going with him, reluctantly. The whole way there he was talking about how this was the coolest trail he'd ever been on. Yes, he had been there before, though only once. His manipulative ploy had been to get me to come with, so he could show me. He admitted this all in the casual way that friends admit being asses to friends. Sometimes, I didn't blame him. I had a tendency to have a stick up my butt...and what followed only reinforced it.
We arrived at about nine, I remember, giving us plenty of time. It was farther away from town than most trails, and it wasn't near a paved road, so there was a lot of walking just to get there. No tourist knew about it, a lot of locals and even some Ute didn't know about it. But, if you followed a game trail through a bunch of trees, it would widen out and lead its way through some mountainous, densely forested terrain.
What struck me was how quiet it was. This, apparently, was what Mark found so awesome. For some reason, in this particular place, you couldn't hear any birds chirping, or any wildlife whatsoever. It was complete and utter silence.
Eventually, I had to urinate. I stepped off of the main road, just so Mark wouldn't see me. As I was going, I spotted something through the trees. It looked like some sort of clearing, just past a shallow creek, with a log going over it. My curiosity got the better of me as I looked at the log. It didn't seem to be an act of nature. It was a makeshift bridge, I was sure.
True enough, when I tested it, it seemed to be stable. I put one foot in front of the other and crossed. When I reached the other end I pulled my way through some trees, and saw the first image of the day that I will never forget, though to many, it wouldn't have seemed like much. In front of me, there was vegetation, trees, ferns and brush, but suddenly, it all stopped. Within a perfect circle, surrounded by small, perfectly arranged rocks, there was nothing but smooth dirt.
It was strange, not in the least because the shape of the rocks was absolutely perfect. They were partially submerged in the soil, and fit together like bricks. Every single one of them was the same uniform white color, and as I got closer I saw things had been carved on them, symbols. They were old, very old. Even if I had understood them, their distinct shapes had been lost over the years.
That was strange, but what disturbed me was that this circle wasn't actually perfect. On one edge, just one, a group of rocks had been kicked up. They were scattered around, as if they actually had been a perfect brick wall, and something had shattered them. In this area, the otherwise perfectly smooth dirt had been kicked up.
There was something about it that just unsettled me. As quiet as the entire forest was, it felt quieter here. I quickly turned around and went back to Mark, who made some lame 'number two' joke.
I should have forced him to leave right there.
Instead, though, we kept going. After all, the day was only halfway over. While the forest itself was cool...at least from Mark's perspective...I found the trail to be rather disappointing. It just went on, and on. There were no alternate paths, and there was hardly any challenging terrain. For Colorado, this whole area was so flat. It was hardly a hike at all. The trail was just long, very long. It took us until noon to reach the end, and there was no one else on it. I know that it was a hard trail to find, and many of the other locals might share my sentiments, but we were there all day, and we didn't run into anyone.
Of course, it wasn't until we reached the end that things started getting really weird.
The trail didn't loop at all, and I inwardly groaned knowing that we'd be walking these three same boring hours back. We took our time eating lunch. As we did, I could swear I heard noises for the first time. There were animals moving through the forest nearby. We could hear the rustling of the brush. I looked, and saw through the foliage the vague outline of a single buck's head, moving past us. It was odd, but I dismissed it.
We packed up what was left of our lunches and started the trek back. Every once in a while, I would hear the rustling again. I'd look into the trees, and often times I would see the buck's head. Eventually, though, I noticed that it was making far too much noise, and was doing so far too frequently. I told Mark to slow down, and stop, and being Mark he cracked a joke about it. But finally, he went silent. And we both still heard the rustling.
Now even Mark was a little freaked out. He turned back, and saw the vaguest outline of the buck's head again. This time, to me, there seemed to be something wrong. The head was far too high up, around the higher branches of the trees. I noticed it. Mark didn't. I should have said something. But I didn't have time, just as soon as it was there, it was gone again, going off further into the forest.
I remember Mark talking about how deer were annoying as hell, about how he was going to scare it off...or something. I don't remember exactly what he said, and that bothers me, because I should remember. He was one of my best friends.
I do remember him yelling at it, and at the time, it was funny, "Hey. Buck. Yeah, you, horny motherfucker, leave us alone!"
He walked off the road, and disappeared down a ridge, behind a layer of trees, pursuing it.
For a minute, there was silence.
That minute became two.
"Mark?" I called out.
Five minutes passed. I climbed down the ridge after him, "Mark?"
I followed the general direction he had gone in, keeping the way back to the road in mind. I wouldn't go far, I knew, because he was smart enough not to go far.
After a short time, I found a place where there were signs of a struggle. In addition, there was blood. There was a lot of blood. It was all over the trees, and the ground. I cursed to myself. There were other things, too, in addition to the blood. Pieces of flesh that I didn't like to look at. There were marks showing that something had been dragged away from here.
"Mark!?" I called out, furiously now. Forgetting the trail for a second, I ran forward, along the drag marks.
After running too far to be safe, I reached a small ravine, with a creek running through it. I narrowly stopped myself. It wasn't a long drop, but it'd hurt you, and a sprained ankle in the middle of the forest was bad news.
The trail stopped here.
"Mark..." I murmured, then called out again, "Mark!"
Something heard, but it wasn't Mark.
Across the ravine from me, I heard a rustling, and saw the trees stirring. Something stepped through the foliage, and revealed itself.
This was the second image burned into my mind. Please, give me a second. I've spent every day for the past few months trying to tell myself this wasn't real.
At first, I saw a head, the head of a buck. But it came forward, and I realized that it was seven feet above the ground.
I was staring a seven foot creature straight in the face that had a massive buck's head, but a humanoid body.
The creature snorted. It's buck face remained neutral...scared-looking, even, as if it wasn't sure of the malicious whims of the body beneath it. There was blood dripping from its horns, which were not at all like the horns of the average buck, but jagged, pointed, and unorganized. A mess of sharp, bloody points. Its human body was dark-skinned, and naked, with very human genitalia. Its penis was dripping blood, just like its horns, implying things that I don't want to think of. I remember both its arms and its legs...they started human, but near the bottom they started distorting, and became animalistic. At the ends of its legs were powerful hooves. At the ends of its arms were hands with long claws, every bit as jagged at the horns on its head. In one of those claws, Mark's body was being held by his shirt. I examined him only briefly, just long enough to notice that the shape of his head was not what it had once been.
For a moment, there was silence. I didn't scream. I couldn't believe what was in front of me.
Then, the creature's ears ruffled. It dropped Mark's body apathetically, and started backing up. Its deer head hung lazily to the side as it moved.
My brain rang, suddenly: It's going to jump the gap. It's coming for me.
With the logical side of my mind shut off, I turned around, and ran, hopefully in the exact opposite direction of the way I came. Behind me, I heard a powerful grunt, and then a scuffle of the monster landing on the bank. There was a horrifying roar, something that sounded like a buck and a grizzly bear shouting together.
I had never run so fast, or so desperately, in all my life, but it was gaining on me. As I ran through the forest, I started to feel its warm, hungry breath on my back. Its hands were extending, and I swear I could feel one of its claws scratch me.
I ran and scurried up the bank leading to the path. I don't know how I got there without it grabbing me, but I did, then I took off down the road, hoping that I was going the right direction. While running, I threw off my backpack, and gained some speed. I think the bank delayed it, slightly, that's the only reason I can account as to how I may have gotten ahead of it.
Somehow, I ran, and ran, and ran. I didn't stop. Eventually, I didn't hear it anymore. But I didn't care. I kept running. I had never been a long distance runner, but my adrenaline was not going to wear off any time soon, and I intended to take advantage of it.
When I reached the end of the trail, and saw the road again, I couldn't believe it. I got into my car. Just before I took off, I shot a glance back up at the trail, at the point where it went up between two mountains, and was visible from the road.
I would regret it.
Standing there, near the beginning of the trail, was the Skinwalker, as I've come to call it. It had given up its chase, but it stood there, watching me hungrily, waiting to see if I would come back. Its deer head hung lazily and dead to the side. The blood on its body was beginning to dry. It had run the whole trail, and it didn't look tired at all.
I twisted the ignition, floored the car, and never came back.
They never found Mark, and I would never explain what happened. No one would believe me. Though I needed to tell someone, which is why I'm posting it here. It came back to me in dreams, nightmares. That creature, the Skinwalker.
Somehow, I doubt that forest was really sacred. In fact, I'm sure it was the opposite.
Because the image that flashes through my mind most often is not the horrific creature, it isn't Mark's raped and mutilated corpse.
It's that circle. Which must have been maintained over the years by those who knew, those who understood.
That old circle, left alone for so long, that had been quietly penetrated.
| 4 mo ago
You think it's over?
This is just the beginning,
your nightmare awaits.
It's a multi-work series,
enjoy the saga!
Title: There's a strange girl who rides the elevators in my building late at night
Story Number: 6
Good evening NoSleep. A few months ago my girlfriend and I moved into a new apartment. It's a bit on the edge of our price range, but our previous place was plagued with all kinds of issues the most alarming of which was a severe bed bug infestation.
For those of you who have not had bed begs before, let me assure you that it is the kind of experience that will make you more than willing to splurge on your next place.
So there we were, living in a high-rise at the edge of downtown of our mid-size American city. It was 24 floors, had a great lobby area, a pool, a top-notch fitness room. So basically it was an apartment building with hotel amenities.
In the first few months we had absolutely no problems at all. We had people over a lot once we were able to acquire new furniture. We didn't dare bring anything but clothes that had been run through the laundry twice with us from the old place. We had cookouts on the propane grills that the building provided on the patio area, we had a few drinks in the hot tub after learning that the rules about alcohol in the pool area were actually not followed by anyone.
Overall, it was great.
But last night I had an experience that almost made me miss the bed bugs and the subsequent sleepless nights and dozens of ugly red splotches on my skin. Almost. I'm not quite to that point yet. Seriously bed bugs are the worst.
I was getting home from a night out with some friends and stumbled into the lobby to call an elevator. We only live on the 4th floor, but for whatever reason the stairs are inaccessible from the ground floor. It's probably for security reasons to make everyone use the elevators, which have cameras.
This perplexity got to me that night and I decided to go and see if my apartment's key or my mail key would actually open the stairwell door off of the fitness area. It didn't of course. As I turned the corner back to the lobby area, the elevator arrived and I heard the friendly "Ping" noise. The door was opening as I came around the corner and I made it in without having to interrupt the door's timing mechanism to close.
Once I got in, I pushed the "4" button and then realized that I wasn't alone.
There was a woman standing in the corner of the elevator. I was surprised given that I hadn't seen anyone get in the elevator before I did and it would make sense that if she had been riding down, she would have gotten off at the lobby.
None of the other buttons on the panel were lit up and I glanced at her and then back to the buttons. She had her head leaned slightly back as if she was looking up at the corner of where the door met the ceiling of the elevator. Her eyes were closed.
"Ummm... Excuse me. Do you need me to push a button for you?" I asked.
Her head snapped back to a neutral position and I almost readied myself for self defense based on how strange the situation seemed. By now, the elevator was slowing as it reached my floor.
The girl, who was not at all physically imposing, opened her eyes fully. They were green. She stood about 5'4" I think, had straight brown hair, tan skin, and wore black leggings and a beige cardigan over a grey tanktop. In a normal scenario, I would have thought she was hot.
She made eye contact with me and slowly leaned over to the panel, pushing "24" and then leaning back to her previous location.
The door opened to my floor and I stepped out while being careful not to look away from her.
"Well, have a good night," I managed to say as I stepped off.
As I stepped into the hallway I lost site of her in the corner of the elevator. But then I didn't.
She leaned sideways in a very unnatural, uncomfortable looking way to watch me as I walked down the hallway. I was about three doors down when I heard her finally speak with a voice that was somehow both menacingly monotonous and strangely seductive.
"Good night. Have one."
I tried to dismiss that night as just an anomaly. The woman was probably just very drunk or maybe she was just an odd ball in general. Still, she hadn't actually physically threatened me or done anything that should have made me so wary.
I don't know, she just gave off a very uneasy vibe.
Tonight, my concerns seemed to be more confirmed. I had decided to go up to the roof top of my building to have a beer and enjoy the view of the city. My girlfriend came with me, but she had decided to head back down to the apartment a few minutes before me.
I finished my beer, stowed the bottle in my pocket in case I ran into someone from building management on the way (We technically aren't supposed to drink on the roof top either) and went down the stairs to the 24th floor where I called the elevator.
As the door opened, I saw a pretty unwelcome site. That same woman was in the elevator. This time, she was wearing a yellow sun dress. From an objective perspective, she actually looked ridiculously attractive, but frankly I had never been less attracted to someone.
She was looking up at the ceiling again. It made me nervous to have to walk past her to get into the elevator, but I did. I could have just let the elevator go by and either called a different one or maybe even taken the stairs 20 floors down.
But I got on, thinking that I was being foolish. Once again, the "4" that I pressed was the only button lit up on the panel.
I thought about asking the girl if she needed help with anything, but I didn't want to say anything after how strange last night had been. I urged the elevator to go faster. They were actually pretty fast, as elevators in tall buildings tend to be, but it had never seemed slower than tonight.
I was glancing down at my phone, but that's when I realized something. The woman had moved about half a foot closer to me.
I was standing in the corner of the elevator, the one that she had been in the night before, while she was on the opposite side when I'd gotten in. But now she was closer, more towards the middle.
I put my phone in my pocket and watched her. She was slowly shuffling sideways in my direction. She would turn one of her feet sideways on its heel, then lift the heel and turn the foot on her toe to slowly move over.
"Are you alright?" I finally said, trying to sound as strong and confident as possible.
Once again her head snapped back to a neutral position and those eyes locked on me.
"Are you alright?" She asked me.
I had goosebumps at this point. She had stopped moving towards me, but having her facing me was even worse. There was just something off about her. She was breathing very heavily all of a sudden. Her breasts were small, but they were heaving up and down under the low-cut of her dress.
"Are you alright?" she asked again, louder.
"I'm... I'm okay. I think," I stammered.
Her facial expression changed for the first time. She smiled, her lips curling slightly upwards and her head tilting slightly to the side.
The elevator arrived at my floor and I turned to shuffle sideways past her. She watched me with a smile as I went and as I reached the door she leaned forward and pressed both the "1" and the "24" buttons on the panel.
And then she whispered something to me as the door was closing.
"Help me help you."
I don't know what to think about this whole situation. Based on what she whispered to me, I'm starting to think that she doesn't mean me any harm. Am I possibly dealing with some sort of spirit or ghost? The fact that she was wearing different clothes makes me think it's a real person. I've never heard of a ghost or spirit changing clothes.
Anyway, I'm pretty unsettled by this whole situation. I'm hoping that it's possible that I'm just dealing with someone who lives in the building and was either drunk out of her mind two nights in a row or maybe has some mental issues.
But something tells me that it's something more.
Well folks, forgive me if this all ends up sounding crazy. I’m still a bit rattled from last night.
I wanted to post this update then, but I wasn’t allowed to post immediately upon getting back to my apartment because of a rule about 24 hours between posts. It’s probably good anyway, I can think more clearly now.
But before I get into that, first of all, I want to thank you for all of your suggestions. Truthfully, when I woke up yesterday morning, I wasn’t too worried about the situation. I think I managed to rationalize it in my mind before going to bed and then when I woke up with a slight hangover it all seemed silly.
However, upon reading some comments and then re-reading what I wrote, I got pretty creeped out again. It almost felt like I was standing in the elevator watching her shuffle over towards me again.
“Help me help you.”
What could that mean? Does she know something about me that I don’t? Do I need to do something in order for her to be able to help me out in the future? I suppose that’s the most literal interpretation.
Regardless, I was at least able to sort of shake myself out of the stupor by mid-morning. I had the day off yesterday and so I was in and out of my apartment running errands and doing laundry. In total I probably took the elevator up or down at least 8 times and there was never a sign of the woman. And in case you were about to ask, yes, there were times that I was alone in the elevator and she still did not make an appearance.
I did ask my girlfriend if she had ever noticed a woman who seemed to have mental issues or was acting very strangely in the elevator, but nothing came to mind for her. She also hadn’t seen her the night before despite having gone down from the rooftop just minutes before me.
It seems like most of the comments were pretty evenly split between the woman being supernatural or just a strange, real person.
After last night’s events, I am leaning towards the former. I think it is almost definite, but I am no expert. As someone pointed out, my assumption about the different clothes already has shown my general ignorance on this subject.
Anyway, I had made up my mind after dinner yesterday that I was not going to leave my apartment after 10 p.m. But then my girlfriend went to bed, I got bored, and I decided that I wanted to go take over a gym near my apartment in “Pokemon Go” (Yes, people still play that).
I took the stairs down to the lobby and the crisp night air felt good. I decided, since it was only 11, that I would go grab a drink at my favorite neighborhood bar before heading home.
At around 11:30 I took the short walk home. As I saw my apartment building looming from a block away it all suddenly hit me again. The head tilt, the strange voice, the heaving breathing… I almost wanted to stop walking.
As I finally arrived home seemingly as slowly as possible, I got into the lobby and resolved to sit down until someone else came in so that I would not have to take the elevator alone. It only took a moment until a man and a woman came in. I managed to avoid seeming strange as I got up casually after they walked in and wandered up to the elevators with them while staring at my phone.
As the doors opened, I looked up and held my breath.
But it was empty.
We stepped in and I pushed “4.” A moment later, the man reached over and pushed “2.”
I couldn’t believe it.
24 floors in this building, 23 of which had residents, so what are the chances that these two people would be going to one of the two possible floors which would cause them to get off the elevator before me?
As they got off, I tried to smile normally at them and then closed my eyes as the doors re-closed and the elevator began to move again. I couldn’t tell if I had imagined it since my eyes were closed, but I could have sworn that the lights flickered.
“Are you alright?”
I scrunched my eyes together even though they were already shut, I almost felt like pinching myself.
Instead, after a moment of desperately squeezing them together to the point that I almost squeezed out tears that hadn’t even been there before, I opened my eyes. The bright lights of the elevator were fully on and came into focus.
And there she was. This time she was wearing short shorts, a V-cut t-shirt, and glasses. It was an extremely different look, but I recognized her instantly.
She still had the exact same smile on her face as the night before. Literally, down to the slight tilt of her head, she had the exact same expression on her face.
She was standing very close to me. If you can picture your average elevator, I was up against the wall on the side where the panel of buttons was and she was standing about level with where the panel meets the door.
“Good night. Alright?”
She was still smiling.
“He.. Hello. Hello, yes I’m alright,” I said, my voice cracking slightly.
The elevator reached the fourth floor and the doors slid open. I looked at the doors and then back to the woman. I didn’t have a clear, comfortable path by her to reach the door. I stood helplessly, cowardly, hoping that she might stand aside. She didn’t.
As the doors closed, she leaned sideways, without breaking eye contact with me, and hit “13.”
I stared at her, she stared back, and my brain began to race. Something inside me started to panic. My eyes raced from the button she had pushed to her staring eyes, to the doors of the elevator. We were moving up now.
I couldn’t be in here with her anymore. I still wasn’t certain that she intended me any harm, surely by now she could have tried to hurt me if she wanted to. But of all the numbers, the fact that she chose that one was causing me to panic in a way I’m not proud of.
I had to try something.
“S-so. So do you live on 13? I’m on 4, but it’s okay I can just take it back down,” I said, trying to smile.
She took a step towards me. There was only inches between her forehead and my nose. I could smell her hair, I’m sure of it.
“I live on 13. You can take it.”
I made a movement that I tried to make as un-aggressive and natural as possible. I reached for the panel and hit “10.”
“I actually feel like taking the stairs,” I said entirely too loudly to maintain any illusion of calm. I moved as if to go around her.
She blocked me immediately. I don’t know if she actually moved her feet. Maybe she just did that weird shuffling thing that I saw her do yesterday. In any case, she was blocking my path.
And that smile was gone.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to inconvenience you,” I stammered.
The doors opened. I had two choices. I still felt that I could overpower this woman physically if I needed to, but I didn’t want to. I just wanted to be away from her and then never take the elevator again. If I had to call my girlfriend every single time I got home and find an excuse to have her come down to the lobby so she could ride the elevator back up with me again I would be fine with that. I would figure it out later. I just needed to be out of the elevator.
And so I pushed past her, doing sort of a swim move in bringing my arm up over her so that I could slide past her sideways more easily. I was about halfway out the door when she grabbed me. It was the first time that she had physically touched me and I actually screamed.
“I’m sorry. You can take it. Actually feel it. I’M ON 13. TAKE IT,” she said loudly. Her voice had become extremely different than before. It was no longer a whisper or monotonous, it was loud and seemed even desperate.
Instinctively, I pulled myself from her grasp and out the doors. They closed and she leaned with the door as it closed, maintaining eye contact with me. She was crying, not audibly, but the kind where a couple of tears just pool in your eyes and then one eventually drips down your cheek.
“You live on 4. I can take it back down,” she said. “Help me help you.”
I got to the staircase as quickly as my addled mind would allow and I took the stairs down three at a time. I wanted to make sure that I reached the fourth floor before the elevator could possibly continue up to 13 and then be reversed back to 4.
There is so much going through my mind now. As I said earlier, I am starting to become convinced that this woman is indeed a spirit. How in the hell else could she have been on the elevator with me suddenly only after the other two people had gotten off?
In all honesty, I actually feel guilty for being so scared of her. I don’t think that I described it properly, but the tears and expression on her face after I got off on the 10th floor and pulled out of her grasp seemed genuinely sad.
I also can’t help but feel like no matter what I do, eventually this woman is going to get me alone in the elevator again. Her last words to me tonight seemed to articulate that intention pretty clearly.
I’ve resolved to tell my girlfriend and, if I end up in an elevator alone with her again, to try to take a picture of her on my cell phone before the seemingly inevitable verbal interactions begin. At that point, who knows? She seems to be becoming more aggressive each time I see er. What does this woman want from me?
And what is on the 13th floor?
Well, I'm back.
I wish that I wasn't. I’m drenched in sweat and utterly horrified right now. I’m sorry if anything I’m about to tell you seems unclear or if I don’t explain something properly. I’m panicking and I think writing this out may help.
Okay. So, to start, I apologize for the delay in updating you, but you didn’t miss anything. My girlfriend ended up suggesting that we head up to her parents' lake house with them for the weekend and so consequently I haven't been home.
Honestly, I was a little bit scared that the girl would show up during the weekend somehow too, but that never happened.
But we're back now, and along with Sunday nights comes the dread of the next morning, "Game of Thrones," and, if you're me, an absolutely terrifying experience with a strange girl in an elevator.
I'm not going to lie though, I actually sought her out this time. Some part of me still felt guilty for leaving her on the 10th floor like I did the other night and I found myself genuinely thinking about her over the weekend and not just out of fear, but out of concern.
I went by my building’s leasing office last week and inquired about if they let tenants see the security camera footage of the elevators. When asked why, I said that I was afraid an ex-boyfriend of my girlfriend may have been stalking us and I wanted to see if he had come around the building at all. They told me that they couldn’t show me the footage on my own, but that if I was really worried I could call the police and they would be willing to cooperate with any investigation. They also said that they would put up fliers reminding residents not to hold the doors open for anyone. I felt bad causing that kind of response given that my reason was a lie.
I also did explain everything to my girlfriend after the events of "Part 2." Bless her heart, she didn't call me crazy or even imply it at all. But she did not share the belief that many of you and myself were starting to have that I should try to help the girl. She thinks that even though the girl could have probably attacked me in the past and didn't, that doesn't mean that she still won't.
I wish I would have listened to her.
It was about 11:30 p.m. tonight when I decided to go looking for her. My girlfriend asked where I was going and I lied, telling her that I was again going out to play "Pokemon Go." I bluffed in asking if she wanted to come with, knowing that she was already in her pajamas and would have no such interest.
Once out in the hallway, I made sure that my cell phone had some charge, took a deep breath, and called the elevator.
When it arrived, I almost fled back to my apartment, but my feet seemed glued to the spot. As the door opened, I saw a group of young men, probably about my age, standing in the lift. The girl wasn't there.
"Going up?" one of the men asked.
I nodded and got on, trying to smile.
As I looked at the panel, I considered pushing "13," but decided on "24."
The guys got off on 11, one mumbling for me to have a good night.
The elevator continued climbing and I waited for her to appear, but she didn't.
And then, it stopped.
It had stopped on the 13th floor.
Suddenly I wanted to run again. But there was nowhere to run. I was about to be face to face with the floor she had wanted me to come to. I had wanted to at least face her in the elevator, not here.
The doors opened and my heart stopped. My eyes started to water. I don't think I wanted to cry out of fear, I was simply overcome with the situation.
The lights in the hallway were out. The elevator doors had opened to pitch black. The lights in the elevator itself illuminated enough that I could see the "13" on the sign of the wall, but nothing beyond. It didn't make sense. I'm not that adept at science, but I would think that the light from the elevator should have at least spilled out a few feet into the hallway.
And then I heard it.
"Help me help you."
It was coming from down the hall, to the left. I recognized the voice. It was a voice I had come to both recognize and fear.
My feet were frozen to where they stood. I took off my glasses to dry my eyes. As I finished wiping them, I saw her right at the edge of the darkness. I heard the elevator door start to shut. I put my glasses back on, and she was standing in the doorway, the doors stopped at her touch and slid back open.
"You're on 13."
Her voice was monotonous again, nothing like the desperate tone I had heard when she had grabbed me before.
She was close enough that I could see her now. She was smiling, but it was a different sort of smile. It wasn't a slight curl of the lips, but a large, toothy grin; the kind that young kids make in their school yearbook photos before they really know how to smile.
"You live on 4. You're on 13," she said. Her lips moved when she spoke, but she kept her lips curled into that cheshire smile even while the rest of her mouth moved to form the words.
I took a deep breath. I had come looking for this. I needed to do whatever I could to see this through. Even if there was somewhere to run, running again would have done no good.
"Yes. I came to find you," I said.
"Find I," she said.
"Can you only say words that I say? Other than 'Help me help you'" I mean?" I asked.
"Only say words that help," she said. "Can I help?"
Her smile had receded. She stepped fully through the door, which had still been attempting to close multiple times, and I couldn't help but gasp.
Her hair was matted and messy, she wore a tank top held up only by the left strap, the right having been torn. It made her right breast almost fall out of the garment. She had grey sweatpants on and one slipper. The toes on her bare foot were painted blue.
I gathered myself again for a moment. The elevator doors closed, but neither of us moved.
"What do I need help with?" I asked.
"Help me help you," she responded.
"Yes, but why do you want to help me?" I asked again.
"Help on 13. You need help," she said.
I decided to take a leap.
"She sells sea shells by the sea shore," I said.
She gave me a quizzical look, her head tilted to the side slightly and her smile completely disappeared.
"You know, I told my girlfriend about running into you. I wanted to know if you had approached her in the past. Does she need help too?" I asked, trying to enunciate every word as clearly as possible.
She stepped towards me again. It occurred to me now that I had never seen her visibly taking steps before. She had always shuffled if anything.
By now I was pressed up against the back of the elevator. She took a step back as the sound of my elbow striking the back wall made a large thud. She gave me a quizzical look.
"I'm sorry. I'm a bit afraid of you," I admitted.
"Afraid a bit. I'm sorry," she said. "Approach."
She said the last word almost like a request and then took another step towards me.
I tried to stand as tall as I could as she leaned forward, I could smell sweat.
"What is your name?" I asked hoarsely. It was the first thing I thought of. I had planned for other parts of this conversation but they escaped my mind.
She was standing only inches from me now, she had tilted her head down to look at the floor.
"Name," she said without raising her head to speak.
"Yes, what is your name?" I asked again.
"I'm on 13," she said.
"No, what is your name?" I said. "What do people call you?"
"No name," she said. "I'm sorry."
She raised her face to look at me and I screamed.
Her right eye was bulging out of its socket, the entire right side of her face was bruised and bloody. She had long scratches on her neck and shoulders and then her right ear seemed to melt down to just a stub before my eyes. I smelled blood and burned flesh.
As I screamed, she reached up with her thin fingers and covered my mouth. I tried to pull away, but she grabbed the back of my head with her other hand and held with strength that I couldn't have imagined she had.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said loudly. She must have said it a dozen times as we struggled. As I fought her, her hand moved up from my mouth and also smothered my nostrils. I couldn’t breathe.
The lights in the elevator flickered and then it began to move down.
I continued to struggle against her grip. Even if I could have been heard through her hand, I couldn’t scream anymore. I was out of oxygen. She was suffocating me. She held me firm and in my struggles we fell over onto the floor. I kicked against the floor desperately, my eyes were rolling up into my head but through my distorted vision I could see her face an inch from mine. I clawed at her hand and felt the flesh slough off like rotten fruit.
The elevator pinged its arrival and she was gone.
The couple in the lobby stepped onto the elevator and looked at me as I lay on the floor, sweaty and hyper-ventilating.
"Holy shit, you okay man?" the man asked, bending down to check on me.
My eyes raced around the elevator. I scrambled to my feet. I was on the first floor. My nails were perfectly clean.
After managing to convince them that I was alright, I rode the elevator back up to 4. Thankfully, they pushed “7.”
I've never been this terrified. I am much less confident now than I have been before that this woman does not mean me harm. I cannot get the image of her grotesque face out of my mind; that eye bulging out of its socket. I didn't know eyeballs were actually that big.
I'm going to ask my girlfriend if we can go stay with friends or her parents for a few days. It’s safe to say that I don’t think I can bring myself to go searching for that woman again. I'm going to go take a shower.
The next few chapters
shall arrive on another
day; until next time!
| 4 mo ago
As we do this on the Internet, I believe we can neglect the part with lighting 100 lanterns and then extinguishing one of them after every story, looking in a mirror while doing so.
I mean... we do have a lantern emoji. 🏮
You can put 100 on your original comment and edit it down as the number of stories increase. What's the spirit gonna do? Travel all the way around the world from Japan to haunt everyone who told stories? Even if they're gonna spawn from our phones Ring style we got crucifix emojis! ✝️
| 4 mo ago
Title: The Gule of Lake Röthesee - a water-related ghost story from Germany
Author: Albwin based on a folktale from Germany
Story Number: 7
Seeing as most people likely don't find stories in a 19th century or preindustrial setting to be scary, I have decided to henceforth slightly modernize the settings while keeping the mythological parts unchanged. To test this out I have taken yet another story from my home country Germany that is unknown even to most Germans. The Gule featured in this story is a very unusual kind of nixie (or Nixe, as the correct German term would be). But better to let the story speak for itself.
There was this one young boy, Jan, living in Heiligengrabe-Königsberg in Brandenburg, Germany. Jan had just successfully got his swimmer's badge and he was very proud of this. And a good swimmer he was! One evening during summer holidays Jan and his friends had come to the Röthesee, a small lake just North of Königsberg.
The small, almost circular, very deep lake lay peacefully in the light of dusk. Jan, who was the best swimmer among his group of friends, had accepted a dare to swim in the lake at night. He was tasked to swim from the Eastern shore all the way to the lake's Western shore.
As Jan readied himself to swim through the lake just as the sun set, at the oppposite shore a thin grey cloud rose from the water, sounding like a swarm of ducks taking flight with flapping wings. Max, one of Jan's friends, witnessed this sight and thought it to be very eerie. He warned Jan to abandon his plan but Jan just laughed. He didn't want to lose the dare.
The water was pleasantly cool as Jan entered it. No comparison to the air that still remained stuffy even after sunset. The boy was inside his element as he started to cross the lake swimmingly with ease.
Jan had already come close to the opposite shore, crossing the last meters which were full of water lilies. Just moments short of reaching his goal, Jan frose as he felt something grabbing his ankle and pulling him down. It appeared to be a cold, slippery hand. At first it was only one, then two, then three, four, ten. At the end thousand thin arms entwined the boy and pulled him under the water.
Jan's friends called for help as soon as they saw that their friend didn't surface anymore. An old man living nearby told the children, their parents and the Policemen (who had also come in the meanwhile) that they should give up all hope, for the Gule had taken her newest victim to suck his blood empty. She would return her victim after she finished her meal, though.
And really: The next morning Jan's pale, lifeless body was found floating in the lakewater among the water lilies but there was no blood left in his veins.
| 4 mo ago
Of course Germany, birthplace of Grimms' fairy tales, would have these kinds of stories readily available...
| 4 mo ago
The next part is here,
go read to your heart's content.
Do you need spare pants?
Title: There's a strange girl who rides the elevators in my building late at night
Hello. This is not 6eoff, not the original one at least. I am an occasional reader of NoSleep but not at all a frequent visitor nor have I ever posted before.
My boyfriend loves it though. I’ve only ever read a couple of stories on here at his request.
But I’m here asking for help because I don’t really have anywhere else to turn.
My boyfriend disappeared near the end of last summer and I’ve exhausted any logical explanations for it. I think it has to have had something to do with a weird, maybe supernatural experience he told me about.
For a very long time, I didn’t think of that as an option. He had told me about it, but to be honest I thought he was exaggerating or sort of paranoid about it. But he never answered any calls or texts from me or anyone else after he disappeared. I wondered if he had simply just left me and ran away to the west coast or something. He’d always wanted to live there. Also, I had recently suspected him of being unfaithful.
Anyway, I booted up his old laptop last week to get a DVD out of the disc drive that I remembered was still in there. That’s when I saw his account was still logged in and I saw his last few posts.
As he said, he did tell me about the girl, but he didn’t tell me what happened in the last part. He didn’t ask me about leaving our building or anything like that. I started crying and shaking just reading it because I remember distinctly that there was a night last summer, after we’d gone away fofor a weekend, after he had first told me about her, that he had suddenly seemed very sullen and absent. He seemed a bit better for a week or so after that and then he was gone.
So I’ve started my own investigations into this. I still live in the same building. It was hard to afford the rent on my own, but luckily I have parents who are well off enough to help me when I need it. His parents have also been helping, I think somewhat out of guilt and also out of hope that maybe he’ll someday come home.
In the past few days I’ve been riding the elevators up and down the building for hours at a time. I even stopped on the 13th floor multiple times but it was completely normal. For those of you in the comments wondering, our building does indeed have that floor. Also, thanks to those in the comments who thought I was up to something.
Anyway, nothing happened until tonight.
Interestingly enough, after hours of riding the elevators waiting for the girl to appear, it was only after I’d finally given myself a break to go out with some friends that I ended up finally meeting her.
As the door closed, I sort of jumped while noticing the figure to my right. At first, even given the past few days, I thought it was legitimately someone I had just not noticed get in before me. But as soon as I glanced over at her, I knew who she was.
She looked a lot like the girl that my boyfriend had described on the first night he met her. There was no bulging eye, torn straps or missing slipper. She was staring at the top of the elevator door. She looked beautiful, kind of slutty to be honest. She was wearing a short purple dress and had her hair done up in a bun. I thought she was about my height at first, but then I noticed the black stilettos she was standing on.
My throat was dry and my mind was empty. I tried to speak, but I was somehow both horrified and relieved to see her.
Eventually, I reached over and touched the button for my floor.
Her head snapped back and she slowly, painfully turned to look at me. Her head turned first even though her eyes stayed looking where they had been. And then suddenly they snapped around to me.
There was a moment that seemed to last forever. She stared at me, a coy, bitchy smile on her face. I was trying not to scream. Instead, I at least managed a hoarse whisper.
“Wh... what did you do with him?”
She cocked her head to the side and moved towards me. I say “moved” because she didn’t walk or even do some sort of creepy shuffle or ghostly glide, it was just... a movement.
And then she spoke. Her lips didn’t seem to match the word she was said.
I cleared my throat and tried to swallow the lump in my throat.
“My boyfriend. You know him, don’t you? He told me about you and I didn’t believe him. Did you do something to him?”
She cocked her head the opposite way and I noticed that she was bleeding from above her temple.
“Boyfriend. Don’t believe him. He told you.”
I felt a chill quiver through my body at her words. Don’t trust him? What in the world could she be talking about? I felt tears well up in my eyes. After months of thinking he had left me, cheated on me, abandoned me, or maybe been murdered, I was finally making progress. And yet, it seemed so hopeless.
The elevator sounded its friendly chime and the door opened to the 4th floor. We stared at each other for a moment, I still wasn’t quite sure if I was really seeing what I saw.
And then she bolted towards me.
I screamed and scrambled out of the elevator and down the hall. I looked over my shoulder and stopped. She hadn’t advanced past the door. Her smile had returned and I couldn’t see any blood anymore.
“You and boyfriend,” she said. “Help me help you.”
I’ve been rummaging through my boyfriend’s laptop since I got home and decided to pour myself a glass of wine. I noticed that a lot of you had messaged him asking if he was okay. Given what happened tonight, I thought it was appropriate to at least tell you all what I know, even if it’s not much.
I’m lonely, scared, and even the anger I had thinking he left me or cheated on me is now gone. I’m simply alone with no answers.
But I’m not giving up.
Well, I wish I had more of an update for you guys, because I realize now how many of you were legitimately concerned or at least curious about Terry for the last few months, but unfortunately there isn’t much news.
Actually that’s not true. There’s definitely some news, but there’s not much progress.
After I finished posting the other night, I suddenly got terrified. I couldn’t really explain it, I knew from Terry’s previous accounts that the girl had never done anything to him or even followed him out of the elevator, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would turn around and she would be standing in the corner of my living room staring at me.
So, in my combined grief and terror, I turned every light in the apartment on, turned on “The Great British Baking Show,” cuddled up with my cat, and drank myself to sleep.
Sunday was pretty routine aside from the awful hangover that I had to suffer through. Still, the sun was out and I had started to be able to comfort myself a bit about the events of the night before.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still terrified of the way she jumped at me, but I was clumsy in the way I got out of the way and I’m pretty sure she could have actually gotten to me if she wanted to. By now I’ve read through all of the comments on Terry’s original posts at least five times and, even though I still think she had something to do with him disappearing, some part of me, for some reason, still thinks that she doesn’t want to hurt me.
Regardless, as one person suggested, I started trying to do some research into the building. I think that Terry started to delve into this last summer too because some suggested search results came up on his laptop. But I didn’t really find much. Most of the search results were for apartment review websites. There wasn’t anything criminal that was newsworthy. The only stuff I found was that apparently back in the ‘60s this place was one of the most upscale apartment buildings in the city and rich guys would rent for their mistresses here. Man, maybe I should find myself a rich guy. Sounds like a nice life.
Anyway, on a limb, I did go to the building management office and inquired about seeing security camera footage. Like they told Terry, they didn’t allow residents to look at the recordings, but when I segued the conversation into seeing someone suspicious in the elevator who I thought I recognized, the guy did mention that they had received multiple reports in recent months of a resident being drunk and acting strangely in the elevators late at night.
With my heart in my throat, I managed to at least seem casual as I suggested that they could just check the footage and find the guilty party. At that point, the guy let it slip that they had been experiencing some sporadic technical difficulties with the cameras for awhile now. He quickly backed off and said that the problems were not serious.
That’s all I got from them and that’s how I spent my Sunday. I didn’t leave the apartment after dark and, even though I was tempted to, I convinced myself not to go looking for the girl again. I did try calling Terry. His parents had picked up paying for his cell phone plan after the carrier had threatened to cancel it due to no payment. I guess I wasn’t the only one who thought one day he would answer, or that a call would at least not go straight to voicemail.
Anyway, he didn’t answer. I tried twice just to hear the sound of his voice in the voicemail message. And then I laid down and I cried until I fell asleep.
I know that after over 6 months it may sound stupid to still miss him so much, but I really had started to think that he had just left me and run off like an asshole. The idea that maybe something horrible had happened to him and that I had harbored all this undeserved hate towards him was tearing me apart.
I started this update off by telling you guys that I didn’t have much progress to share, but I did promise some news. I’m sorry that I’m not really that good of a writer like Terry was, so I’m just typing this out as it happened. I’m sure someone like Terry would have found a way to lead-off with the exciting part, but that’s not me.
Anyway, the reason that I wanted to update you all is that last night she knocked on my door.
She knocked on my fucking door.
I had gotten home from a pretty routine Monday at work, taken the elevator upstairs without incident, and been in my apartment ever since. It was about 11:30 and I was getting ready for bed when I heard a faint scratching.
I shouted at my cat, assuming she was indulging her claws in some furniture, but I then quickly recognized the difference in the sounds.
The scratching was coming from the door, but to call it scratching is probably not right. I guess the word for it might be caressing? It sounded like someone was just running the backs of their nails lightly down my front door.
As quietly as I could, I tiptoed to the door and looked through the peep hole.
And there she stood. She was wearing glasses, sweatpants, and a t-shirt. She looked like how I would dress if I was just having to go down to the laundry room.
For what seemed like an eternity I stood staring through the peep hole, not having the courage to even breathe. She was staring up, but visibly running her hands down the door. My cat arrived to rub against my legs and the first touch caused me to jump with surprise.
Instinctively, I looked down to see her purring and weaving between my ankles.
When I looked back through the peep hole, the girl was staring right at me. It was almost as if the door wasn’t between us.
The stare down was unbearable and eventually I cracked.
“Please leave me alone,” I said.
“Alone,” she said. “Please leave.”
I half expected her to lunge through the door or reach for the knob in that moment. But instead her eyes softened, she leaned back from the door, turned, and went down the hall. A minute later, with my ear pressed to the door, I heard the elevator arrive and then, a few moments later, leave.
I decided to pack a bag, herd my cat into her carrier, and head to my parents’ for the indefinite future. It was different when I thought she couldn’t follow me, but now I legitimately feel unsafe. So this morning I left the building and don’t plan to go back for quite awhile.
The biggest news that I want to leave you with though: I might not be alone.
I got a message this afternoon from another user who said that she thinks her friend disappeared after having lived in what she thinks is my building.
Her friend apparently told her that he met a drunk girl in an elevator who he thought was into him. She said that the last text she got from him talked about her inviting him up to her apartment on the 13th floor and that he seemed scared. He also said that all the lights were off.
| 4 mo ago
Title: The call of the Douen - a ghost story from Trinidad and Tobago
Author: Albwin based on a folktale from Trinidad and Tobago
Story Number: 8
Here again, the setting and the story are written by me but the mythological aspects are based on actual folktales. Please enjoy.
There once was this American family, the Millers, who had recently moved to Trinidad for work-related reasons. Their new house was near the beach and a lush tropical forest could be seen in the direct vicinity. The Miller family consisted of four people, the father, Hank, the mother, Susan, and the twin children Jimmy and Annie.
One evening when the twins stayed out late playing and exploring the area, Susan loudly called for them. The siblings then soon returned with the light of the setting sun behind their backs.
At exactly that moment a local fisherman passed by. The elderly black man approached Mrs. Miller and advised her with a heavy Trinbago dialect: "Doh call de pickneys with dem real names. De douens go hear yuh! Ah tell yuh, if de douens know dem names, dey go call de pickneys and mek dem follow weh dey want. De pickneys go missing and yuh cah do anything. Dangerous, very dangerous! So dat dis doh happen yuh must call dem other names outta de house." (Standard English: "Don't call the children with their real names. The douens will hear you! I tell you, if the douens know their names, they will call the children and make them follow where they want. The children go missing and you can't do anything. Dangerous, very dangerous! So that this doesn't happen you have to call them other names outside of the house.")
Susan of cause only laughed at this superstitious old man, the more so as she only understood about half of what he had said. She thought it to be ridiculous nonetheless.
The very next day Jimmy and Annie stayed out long yet again. When they saw that the sun was setting they wanted to return back home.
Then they heard it. Sweet, gentle voices, calling their names. "Jimmy! Annie!" they called "Jimmy and Annie, come play!"
The twins felt an urge to follow those lovely voices. Deeper and deeper they followed the sound inside the woods so that they soon didn't know anymore where they had come from and where to return.
When Jimmy and Annie became aware of their surroundings again, they stood on a clearing in the now night-dark forest which was crossed by a little stream nearby. Frightened, the two children embraced each other as the voices calling them had replaced by a "whoop whoop" sound that seemed to come from every direction and appeared to slowly come closer.
An the end countless bizarre childlike beings surrounded the siblings, continuing their "whoop whoop" sounds, only intercepted by the words "Let's play." That the small genderless beings were naked save only for a big mushroom-shaped stawhead, that their feet pointed backwards, and that theit faces were featureless, without eyes, nose or mouth, only served to increase their eeriness as they stood theere in the pale moonlight, surrounding the twins. Countless small hands grabbed after Jimmy and Annie, dragging them deeper into the forest.
Hank and Susan were besides themselves whith fear when their children didn't return that night. In their distress they called the Police and a big search was organized. It wasn't until five days later, though, that the malnourished children were found deep in the forest. They were locked in a wooden cage, their clothes, as far as they still had them, tattered lumps. Jimmy and Annie embraced each other while shivering all over and shouted like crazy when the rescue team tried to seperate them. They had gone mad with anguish and fear.
Their parents should never know what had happened in those few days, for even after the children had slowly recuperated they never told what they had experienced at that time. Susan, their mother, couldn't help but remember the douens the old fisherman had mentioned that one evening, though, and wondered for the rest of her life if the tales about spirits of unchristened children haunting the woods could in fact be more than just a foolish superstition...
| 4 mo ago
What's a Trinbago?
No hits from cursory search,
leaving me clueless.
| 4 mo ago
Trinbago is the short term for Trinidad and Tobago sometimes used in the native dialect.
| 4 mo ago
this one is a recent read.
Hope you enjoy it.
Danke. Also should we move this thread to the Literature section?
Title: The school that I work for never sent the kids home for the summer
I shouldn’t have been at the school, but today was the only day that I was able to get things ready for Meet The Teacher Day on Monday. When I pulled up to the school, what I saw was exactly what I expected; there were two other cars in the lot and a few workers outside working on some last-minute paint jobs to the front office.
I waved to the workers as I walking into the office, swiping my card to open the door that leads onto the campus. It was weird being here while it was so quiet, but as I looked around, I noticed that a few things looked out of place.
The sand on the playground wasn’t raked as it usually was during school breaks, there were a few balls and toys littered around the field and the playground as well. There was a jacket abandoned at the bottom of the slide, and half water lunch on the picnic tables. I figured that maybe some of the staff who had been coming in to prepare for Monday had brought their kids with them, which explained the toys, and maybe the lunch belonged to the cleaning crew, who hadn’t gotten around to fixing up this area of the school.
I shrugged it off and made my way to the fourth and fifth-grade building, making my way down the hall to my classroom. As I made my way down the hallway, I noticed that a few of the classrooms had the lights on, and the doors wide open. I peered into Mrs. Jenken’s classroom, looking around at the mess on the tables. Crayons, markers, glue, and scraps of paper covered the tables and the floor, and all of the chairs were pushed out as if everyone had gotten up and left in a hurry.
I had never known the cleaning crew to be this disorganized, but I kept walking down the hall, looking into some of the other classrooms, which were all just as messy. One particular room caught my eye; Mr. Blake’s classroom. This one had sleeping bags and cots all over the room, and all of the tables, chairs, and shelves had been taken out of the room to make space for them.
As I finally reached my classroom, I stopped to look at the new decorations on the wall across the hall. There was a square portion of it that had been covered in blue paper, with a banner that read “WHAT WE DID THIS SUMMER…” over it. Bellow that, there were dozens of pictures of the children.
There were dates beside each row of pictures, going as far back as the last week of school, and including every week of summer break as well. I scanned each of the photographs, noticing how as time progressed, the children look more sad, disheveled, and sick.
The most recent row contained pictures from last week, with only about fifteen kids in the photographs, as opposed to the thirty or so kids that were pictured at the start of the summer.
There were only two teachers that I recognized in the pictures, and they seemed to be the only staff who was anywhere near the campus throughout this time; Mrs. Jenken and Mr. Blake. That explained why their classrooms seemed to be the messiest, but why were these kids here for the entire Summer?
I hadn’t heard anything about the school providing summer school classes that lasted this long.
I jumped as I turned in the direction of the sudden voice to see Ryan Edwards running down the hall towards me.
“Ryan?” I asked.
He had been one of my best students last year, and he was moving onto fifth grade, which meant he would still be in the same building for another year.
He glanced behind him, looking nervous. He stopped in front of me, doubled over and out of breath.
“What’s going on?” I asked, looking behind him as well. There was no one there.
“You shouldn’t be here.” He said, panting.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
I looked at him, noticing that his face was covered in dirt, and he had bruises and scrapes on his arms and legs. The sole of one of his sneakers was loose, making the front of his show gape open. He smelled like he hadn’t showered for the whole summer, and looked like he had lost about ten pounds.
“They didn’t….I don’t know what….all the kids…” He gasped.
“Okay, alright. Ryan, I need you to slow down. Just take a few deep breaths and then tell me what’s going on.”
I watched as he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.
“Okay?” I asked.
“They wouldn’t let us leave. Mr. Blake and Mrs. J, they kept us locked up in the assembly room for a lot of days. They just left us alone, and we couldn’t get out. When they came back they told us we couldn’t leave. They said it was summer camp or something but they didn’t let us call our parents or anything. Some of the kids disappear every few days, and no one knows what happens to them.”
“Well, we need to call the police!” I said.
“No!” He shouted.
“You can’t. They won’t help. It isn’t the real Mr. Blake or Mrs. J. I don’t know what they are, but it isn’t them. They have some kind of powers. We tried to ask the cleaning people for help- well, Jessie did- she speaks Spanish, but they did something and the cleaning people just ignored us. Even when Mr. Blake hit her.”
I stood there, horrified, staring at Ryan.
“Alright, well then we need to get out of here.” I said.
I started walking back down the hall but Ryan grabbed my arm.
“No, not that way. They were chasing me from that way. We need to go out a window.”
“What?” I asked.
“Ryan? Are you in here?” I hear a distorted voice call.
“Hurry!” Ryan hissed.
I pulled him into my classroom with me, and we made our way to one of the back windows. I opened it and helped him climb out first. I could hear footsteps coming down the hallway.
“Ryan! You won’t be able to get away!” The voice said.
It didn’t sound at all familiar, it was in a weird pitch, and almost robotic.
I climbed out of the window, and grabbed Ryan, running around the building.
“Where do we go?” I asked.
“I don’t know!” Ryan cried, looking around.
“Well, what about the library?” I asked.
“No, that’s where the parents are. I don’t think you wanna go in there.”
“The parents. They’re all in there.” Ryan repeated.
“Well, shouldn’t we let them out?” I asked.
“They’re all dead.” He said.
“They did it. Mr. Blake and Mrs. J. Except not them because that isn’t them back there.”
I glanced at the library.
“Alright, so where are we going then?” I asked.
Ryan looked around.
“The cafeteria!” He shouted, pointing.
I grabbed his hand and we ran across the grass. I reached for the door, praying that it would open, and sighing in relief when it swung open. We stepped in, and I closed the door behind us, moving two chairs underneath the door handles to jam it shut.
I looked around at the empty cafeteria. This appeared to be one of the only places that they hadn’t messed up somehow, which made sense, considering that Ryan looked like he hadn’t eaten the entire time that he was here.
“Where are the rest of the kids?” I asked.
“I don’t know, they split us up. That’s how I got away, they were moving us to the junior high buildings.” He said.
“I’m going to go block the other doors. Stay here.” I said to him.
He nodded and I walked to the other side of the room, checking to see if those doors were open as well. They were locked, but I moved a table in front of it just to be safe, and then made my way into the kitchen.
I checked the doors back there, and they too were locked. Next, I made my way to the restrooms. I walked into the women’s restroom first, walking into the far right stall to close the window at the top of that wall.
I walked into the men’s room next and opened the same stall to check that window. As I stepped inside the smell hit me.
I gagged as I used my shirt to cover my nose. I stepped back a bit before walking into the stall and coming face to face with the source of the smell.
It was a dead body.
More specifically, Ryan’s dead body.
It appeared to have been dead for a few days at least. I froze as I stared at it, confused and scared.
If Ryan was in here, dead, then who…
“Miss Cole?” I heard a voice calling.
I stepped out of the stall and slowly opened the door, stepping out into the small hallway. As I slowly shut the door behind me, the lights went out.
I walked over to the kitchen again, ducking behind one of the counters.
“I’m gonna get you, Miss Cole.”
I hid in a storage closet and called the police, but they seem to think this is some kind of prank, and warned me not to call again.
My phone’s battery is about to die, even though I’m fairly certain that it was fully charged when I left the house this morning. Ryan (or whatever it is that’s pretending to be Ryan) is still out there, but he doesn’t seem to be coming after me, and instead is waiting for me to go to him.
I don’t know if he knows that I’ve figured it out, but I don’t want to take any chances. I think I might die here. Or, I’ll become one of them. Whatever they are.
| 4 mo ago
Moving the thread might be a good idea, especially seeing as ghost stories can be regarded both as oral and written literature. I don't know how to do so, though.
|4 mo ago|
| 4 mo ago