The scary thread

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Tdc2182:

zehydra:
I've got one:
So ur with ur honey and yur making out wen the phone rigns. U anser it n the vioce is "wut r u doing wit my daughter?" U tell ur girl n she say "my dad is ded". THEN WHO WAS PHONE?

Edit: Lol, this is copypasta, btw. This isn't mine.

Her mom who has lung cancer. I win

"You want me to describe it? Dude, watching two people getting it on is bad enough. Watching your own daughter with her girlfriend is sick. Asking me to describe it all as well is going Too Damn Far. Sheesh." *hangs up*

Tdc2182:
I haven't clicked any spoiler yet because I here talk of creepy pasta.

Ah, click them. Just sit well back from the screen for the one that got all the angry responses and the coffee advert. The rest of them are fine.

and now i must change my pants and view the rest in the morning.

shadow741:
Hurry up and post I'm falling asleep here.

Even after all this time I am getting asleep, these things are not scary at all.

SODAssault:
Here's one I made a while ago. Based on an actual experience.

You know, I have this habbit of reading the endings of stories first. I'm glad I have it now. :)

Cowabungaa:

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck... I feel uneasy now. Fake but who gives a damn. Very related to the scary thing I was going to post, namely this:


There's a similar story attached to this, the difference being someone made a video with it which is even scarier than the actual story.

I can see that there's an image that keeps flashing up for a split-second, but I really don't have the balls to pause the video and look at it xD

Woodsey:

Cowabungaa:

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck... I feel uneasy now. Fake but who gives a damn. Very related to the scary thing I was going to post, namely this:


There's a similar story attached to this, the difference being someone made a video with it which is even scarier than the actual story.

I can see that there's an image that keeps flashing up for a split-second, but I really don't have the balls to pause the video and look at it xD

Just did, its a negative colored ventriloquist doll.

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This is the only thing I have seen that creeps me out.

Its not really creepypasta, but...

Tekkawarrior:

Woodsey:

Cowabungaa:

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck... I feel uneasy now. Fake but who gives a damn. Very related to the scary thing I was going to post, namely this:


There's a similar story attached to this, the difference being someone made a video with it which is even scarier than the actual story.

I can see that there's an image that keeps flashing up for a split-second, but I really don't have the balls to pause the video and look at it xD

Just did, its a negative colored ventriloquist doll.

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..Dooooctor Freeeeemaaaannn! D8

It's 10:09, I have an assignment to do, and I want to sleep tonight, good day.

TopHatTim:

-Drifter-:

dragon_of_red:
Goody. I have been looking for one of these for a while... /x/ seems to not have much of these anymore... =(


Long read that one, But its good.

I will Edit more in.

The Fallout one was a bit creepy, but the Pokemon story ran on too long and was too unbelievable.

PS: Is there any truth to the Fallout 2 story?

Did shit pop out or ay pictures for the fallout one...i couldnt grow the cohones toactualy scroll down to the lastsection.

No, it's just a random story of some fun you can have in some cave after beating the game. The creepy part comes at the end apparently...

Most of this isn't scary. XD

PurpleLeafRave:

SODAssault:
Here's one I made a while ago. Based on an actual experience.

You know, I have this habbit of reading the endings of stories first. I'm glad I have it now. :)

I also have this habit, maybe because the stories that have scared me the most are ones which get creepy only after you read them.

The last man on Earth came home one night. He turned the lights off, got into bed, then remembered he had left the TV on.
He reached for a match, and a match was put into his hand.

--

What is it that wakes us up? Is it our mind simply sending a jolt of messages to our body? Is it something we get use to? The truth is, the only thing that can wake us from our deep sleep is a sound. A feeling. A breeze. Whether it is a bird chirping outside, or the call of an alarm. Or a door opening or a swift motion of air. Humans can not wake up on their own.

What happens if that feeling to alert us never comes? The first weeks pass, your skin begins to crisp away. By a month your body has rotted from the inside out. By a year, you are nothing but a few bones.

So just remember this when you next go to sleep.

I hear the winds will be still tonight.

--

It's 3 AM on Halloween night and you and your friends been up all night on a horror binge. You've watched your favorite scary movies, read your favorite scary stories, and even attempted the old "Bloody Mary" trick in your mirror. After your friends leave, you stretch and yawn, deciding now is about the time to hit the hay, so you move into your bedroom and lay down to sleep.
After awhile, however, you realize that you can't get the images of some of the fictional creatures you saw on your television out of your head. "Meh...I'm going to hate myself for this tomorrow," you say aloud as you flick on your bedroom lamp, knowing that having a nightlight used to help get rid of your nightmares as a little kid. Within minutes you're close to sleep, snuggled up comfortably under the blankets with your eyes closed and more pleasant thoughts on your mind...
...that is, until you detect something moving in front of the light, casting a shadow over you. You blink, beginning to turn towards the lamp before a rotting hand grabs hold of your shoulder. "Thanks for turning on the light, I was having trouble finding you in the dark."

--
I read some others on /x/, but I can't find them now, so I'll post them when I find them.

S.R.S.:
Go to ED and search creepy pasta.

Thanks.. you actually woke me up.. and made me turn my light on.

S.R.S.:
Go to ED and search creepy pasta.

Nice trick.
Scared the shit out of me.
I still read them all anyway.

You feel an itch in your throat.
You try to cough it out, but it just won't come.
You struggle with forcing yourself to vomit. You drink lots of water, but whatever it is, its just stuck there.
You reach for the carton of milk in the fridge and sneeze as you raise it up. Something hits the floor with a rattle. You look at the floor and see a small button with a flowery design on it.
Then you look up. On the milk carton, you notice a missing kid. Her blouse shows the same buttons.

--

I was through hiking the Appalachian Trail last year, when I got lost and found myself off the trail, in a strange, dark hollow with heavy moss and one running stream. It was getting dark, and starting to rain. I found a cave just above the creekbed, and there were no bear-tracks, so I went in for shelter.
Sometime in the night, a bear did come, right into the cave, and I had no way out! Keeping my head, I crawled deeper into the cave and found a passage too small for the bear to fit. It led to a long crawlway ending in a little alcove.
I had no light, and was terrified. But the sound of the bear in the bigger room faded away. This new room was cozy, with what felt like mounds of soft moss and crackly leaves all over the floor. A breeze blew through, and the leaves, though I couldn't see them, seemed to move all over, they tickled me all night long, making it hard to sleep.
The next morning I crept back out to see if the bear was gone - he was. So I exited back into the hollow. I had a terrible rash all over my body from the itchy bedding I had slept on, and couldn't stop scratching as I gathered my stuff and went down the creek looking for a road and some directions back to the trail.
I found another trail along the creek, and in a few hours, it ended at a dirt road. There I rested, trying to decide which way to walk for help. My skin was bleeding in spots now, and pustules were forming at the itchiest places. I thought I might need some cream or something.
A game warden Jeep came around the bend, and when the Warden saw me sitting at the trailhead, he stopped.
"You planning on going up there?" he asked, gesturing up the trail I had come down.
"No, actually -- " I began, but the itching on my skin made me stop short to scratch.
"I wouldn't if I were you, especially that cave."
"Why?" I asked.
"They call it Spiders-Nest Cave."

--

In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the adress on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed.

She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She went to the police, who raided the address on the envelope, where they found heaps of human flesh for sale.

And what was in the envelope? "This is the last one I am sending to you today."

I've always had a terrible fear of being submerged completely in water. Not that I can't swim or anything. My dad made me learn; he said I almost drowned when I was really young.

I was afraid of it because, for as long as I remember, whenever I am under water and look up at the surface I see a woman reaching down to me with a warm smile, with glowing golden hair and dark blue eyes. Even if it's just in a bathtub. It always happened, it was just normal for me, but I never got used to it.

It was unnerving, but also soothing at the same time. She always made me feel like it was okay. I still avoided it though, because I was just a kid and it was really freaky.

I never told my dad about it as a kid, but I did ask him about my mom. He never wanted to talk about her. Sometimes he even got mad at me for trying too hard to bring it up.

It was only recently that I described this apparition to him. He nearly drove into a telephone pole; obviously he knew something. I asked him, again, about my mom. He still wouldn't say much, except that she died when I was very young and that she loved me very much. He also admitted that her hair and eyes were those colors, just like mine.

So I did some research on my own, looking up her name for myself on my birth certificate and trying to find any references I could, any news clips about a boy nearly drowning, any thing. I mostly wanted a picture, something I could match to my guardian angel.

Today, buried in our town library, I found it.

WINCHESTER: Marie Withie, 28, drowned to death yesterday evening after climbing a razerwire fence and fleeting to a nearby reservoir. A funeral is scheduled by her family for the 25th. Marie was institutionalized just six months ago, after being found "not guilty" of attempted murder on grounds of insanity. Her husband Daniel Withie had acted quickly enough to rescue their infant child when she was found trying to drown him in a bathtub.

S.R.S.:
Go to ED and search creepy pasta.

Hahahaha! It lagged.... That's brilliant. I love it, I really do.

[youtube=

Mcupobob:
I'll start off us off by horrifing you with the slender man

I present The Odd Scout.

S.R.S.:
Go to ED and search creepy pasta.

FUUUUUUU that made me kak myself :s

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Mestraal:
Kinda long so in the spoiler box she goes. This story is entirely true, by the way. I find myself feeling unnerved by the memory even as I write it.

You've never told me of that before Matt...

The moving picture gifs. Holy freaking Christ! Pasta! Those have given me need to change my trousers. Twice. Please stop it. Or spoiler them. Or both...

Some of this is actually pretty...I dunno, weird. But, also exciting - why is we find specific images frightening?

Holy crap. Some of these stories are just downright spooky. The jumpy stuff scares me unless I've seen it before but damn some of these pictures. Brr. Shivers. Here are spookyish stories which are just bizarre and actually happened to me.

When I was 14, I woke up outside in the middle of winter. Ok I must have sleep walked right. Well all the doors and windows to the house were closed and locked and my tracks in the snow started 12-16 feet away from the house. It has yet to be explained and it still scares the shit out of me thinking about it.

When I was 15, I went out to help my friend take care of his families cattle. They kept getting scarred and stressed at night so we thought maybe some city kids or animal was spooking them(turned out it was a neighbor scarring coyotes away from his chickens but nevermind that). So we went out at night to see if we could find this and as we were worried it could be animals we took guns. his dad and him took quads but since I am afraid of quads(don't ask) I rode on horseback because then I have an extra set of senses. Anyways after about 2 hours of looking to the North i head back towards the slough(small pond) and call them over the radio to meet me there. So as I crest the hill I see something by the waters edge and my horse stops dead and refuses to move. I dismount and look through my scope to see what it is. As I focus the scope the figure of a person comes into view and they look like they are crying. Naturally as this is the pitch of night only moon sliver is giving light I go to see if they are hurt and why they are miles away from any road. When I'm about within 50m I call out.
"Hey, Are you ok? Can I help you?"
Within 3 seconds I noticed these things
1)I hear no noise from her
2)It's a she
3)It has no eyes and a dislocated jaw
Soon as I finished saying can I help you she leapt to her feet and screamed. So loud and unearthly and soul shivering. I stumbled back and in fear fired a shot wildly. Next thing I remeber is the headlights of 2 quads and my friend and his dad trying to pry the gun out of my hands. I bent the trigger and left my finger nail makes into the wood. They only heard the shot and saw the horse tearing away in the direction of the horse. But they recorded me saying over the radio.
"Hey, Are you ok? can I help you?"
"no"

The Jakeinator:
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You son of a bitch! I hate you! DX
*Goes to cry in a corner*
D'X

Those pokemon and spongebob stories were pretty good.

Also, that dog photo creeps me out, always has.

Oh, forgot to contribute..................here you go...............

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Ha ha ha!

I met Slender Man one time.

Now I am the Soulless Husk I am today.

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This is one of the best creepypasta I've read in recent times:

I've been lying down for hours now. It's 5:35 AM and there's not much I can do. You know what the worst part about my situation is? I'm in the same room with my parents. They keep looking at me, and I can't help but look back and try not to scream. Their eyes are focused on me and their mouths are wide open. There's the strong scent of blood and I feel so paralyzed with fear.

Here's the thing. The second I make any hint that I'm not asleep anymore, I'm completely fucked. I will die and there's nobody around to save me. I've been trying to think of a way out but the only idea I have is to rush for the door and run outside the front door and scream for help, hoping any neighbors hear me. It's risky, but if I stay here, I'll surely die. He's waiting for me to wake up and see his masterpiece.

You're probably wondering what's going on. I do get ahead of myself sometimes.

About three hours ago, I heard screaming from the other side of the house. I got up and went to check on the noise before realizing I had to use the restroom. Instead of doing the smart thing and investigating, I used the bathroom first. I could've gotten myself killed right then for my stupid actions. But I actually did my business and took a peak outside the bathroom. There was blood on the carpet. I got very worried and ran back to my room, hiding under my sheets like the pussy I was. I tried to convince myself to go back to sleep, that it was just some really vivid dream or something.

But I heard my bedroom door open. Like the terrified child I was, I peeked from under my blankets to see what was going on. I could see something dragging my dead parents into the room. It was not human, I can tell you that. It was hairless, with no eyes and no clothing. It walked like a caveman, with its back slouched as it dragged my parents. But this thing was much smarter than any caveman. It was aware of what it was doing.

It propped my dad up on the edge of my bed, and made him face me. It then sat my mother down in the chair and positioned her towards me as well. It then started rubbing its hands upon the walls, staining them with blood and then drew a circle with the devil's pentagram in it. This thing had made what it would probably call a masterpiece. To finish it off, it scribbled a message onto the wall that I could not read in the darkness.

It then positioned itself under my bed, waiting to strike.

The scariest thing is now, my eyes have adjusted to the darkness since then and I can read the message on the wall. I don't want to look at it, because it's terrifying to think about. But I feel I need to see, before I'm killed.

I peek at the creature's masterpiece.

"I know you're awake."

--

I never liked doors. There was always something about doors that freaked me out. When they were open, I felt exposed. When they were closed, I felt a bit safer, yet nervous about what was on the other side. So I often lock my doors and the doors that lead outside of my small rural house have plenty of windows. I've told people about this phobia, I guess you could call it that, before. They've rationalized it, saying "It's like how some people aren't afraid of the dark, but what the dark hides". Yes, that makes sense. I guess, ever since I was a kid, I always imagined watching one open on its own and a monster would come out and get me. Even now and again into my teen years did this happen. It was always a door, never through a window, never out of a dark hallway or corner, but a door. The knob would turn, the hinges would creak and out came a creature of utter blackness and it would take me away, kill me or whatever monsters did. That is why I hated this particular door.

This door was tall, nearly eight feet tall and about three feet wide. It was black, jet black. I didn't like it. It was big, dark, and in my bedroom. I never used this door often. I kept some old clothes behind that door on racks. Suits, ties, dress pants, just some random formal stuff I hardly used. I was just a cook so I never really needed them unless I needed a job. Luckily I was able to stay with this diner for a long time. I haven't opened that door for five years. I often wonder why I never got rid of it. If I didn't like it, why keep it? Well I guess because it just seemed silly. It seemed silly to get rid of a door just because of some childhood fears. I was a big boy now, I'm not supposed to be afraid of the dark or the boogeyman.

"Heh, yeah." I rapped my knuckle against the door as I stood in front of it, "I'm not afraid of you. You're just a big piece of wood. All you got behind you are some old clothes that probably don't even fit me anymore." I tried to laugh away my concern as I looked at the door. It seemed to tower over me, two small panels at the top of the door seemed to angle down at me. For a moment I felt like it was looking right at me. I tried to laugh again, but I couldn't quite muster the humor. Instead I gave it another rap and walked off. I had things to do, get ready for work, bills to pay, and people to see. I didn't have time to be afraid of a door.

A couple of nights went by after I 'mocked' the door. The feeling of being looked down on didn't leave for the rest of the week. For some reason I just felt
I think you'll like this one, just read the whole thing. I never liked doors. There was always something about doors that freaked me out. When they were open, I felt exposed. When they were closed, I felt a bit safer, yet nervous about what was on the other side. So I often lock my doors and the doors that lead outside of my small rural house have plenty of windows. I've told people about this phobia, I guess you could call it that, before. They've rationalized it, saying "It's like how some people aren't afraid of the dark, but what the dark hides". Yes, that makes sense. I guess, ever since I was a kid, I always imagined watching one open on its own and a monster would come out and get me. Even now and again into my teen years did this happen. It was always a door, never through a window, never out of a dark hallway or corner, but a door. The knob would turn, the hinges would creak and out came a creature of utter blackness and it would take me away, kill me or whatever monsters did. That is why I hated this particular door. This door was tall, nearly eight feet tall and about three feet wide. It was black, jet black. I didn't like it. It was big, dark, and in my bedroom. I never used this door often. I kept some old clothes behind that door on racks. Suits, ties, dress pants, just some random formal stuff I hardly used. I was just a cook so I never really needed them unless I needed a job. Luckily I was able to stay with this diner for a long time. I haven't opened that door for five years. I often wonder why I never got rid of it. If I didn't like it, why keep it? Well I guess because it just seemed silly. It seemed silly to get rid of a door just because of some childhood fears. I was a big boy now, I'm not supposed to be afraid of the dark or the boogeyman. "Heh, yeah." I rapped my knuckle against the door as I stood in front of it, "I'm not afraid of you. You're just a big piece of wood. All you got behind you are some old clothes that probably don't even fit me anymore." I tried to laugh away my concern as I looked at the door. It seemed to tower over me, two small panels at the top of the door seemed to angle down at me. For a moment I felt like it was looking right at me. I tried to laugh again, but I couldn't quite muster the humor. Instead I gave it another rap and walked off. I had things to do, get ready for work, bills to pay, and people to see. I didn't have time to be afraid of a door. A couple of nights went by after I 'mocked' the door. The feeling of being looked down on didn't leave for the rest of the week. For some reason I just felt watched by the door. I lay in bed one night, parallel to the door, and stared at it. The door was hidden in the darkness, with only its brass knob to let me know it never moved. I stared for some time, looking directly at it. I felt like I was in a staring contest with the door. We just looked at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. We waited until one of us broke the stare, we tried to intimidate the other. We stared for a long time before I finally blinked. When I did blink I expected the door to suddenly swing open and reveal some sort of monster. Nothing happened, the door simply stood there, looking at me, looming over me. A chill ran down my spine and I finally turned away. I went to sleep, but not after several glances back at the door.

I woke up that morning with a headache. My head pounded like a death metal drum solo. I groaned, it hurt like a son of a bitch. I pressed my hands on the bed to feel something warm dampen my hands. I opened my eyes. There on my pillow and down onto the white sheets was a pool of blood. I sat up, tearing my face away from the pillow. It was sticky from the dried blood. When I examined the sheets closer I saw drops falling from my nose. I had a bloody nose, of course. I quickly stood up from my bed and ran to the bathroom with my head up like some sort of super snob. Ya know, the kind where they even look down on God. Anyway I ran in and looked at myself in the mirror. The left half of my face, mostly the cheek and mouth area, was dark red and brown and two streams of blood still dripped from nose. I held it up again, this time feeling around the bathroom for some toilet paper. I found some and quickly plugged my nose up in a hurry. The toilet paper stopped the blood and I was able to sigh in relief. I felt dizzy though and when the crisis ended, my headache decided to take center stage again. With another groan I wandered into my bedroom and called in sick. I couldn't go to work like this. I called my boss, and with the toilet paper in my nose, I sounded more convicting. He told me to call someone and so I called Fred, he's a good shit.

"Hello?" Came up his voice. I must've just woke him up.

"Hey, Fred. It's Josh. Listen man, I'm feeling like shit and I need you to come in for me, alright?" There was a silence on the phone. He was probably nodding. Fred had a stupid tendency to do that, like he thought the phone had video or something. Finally he responded.

"Yeah, yeah sure." He said with a yawn.

"Thanks man, I'll take Friday for ya, if you'd like."

"I would like that, Josh. Thanks."

"Yeah, I'll talk to ya later." I hung up. There, I had the day to get cleaned up and my head to feel better. As I laid my phone back on the base I noticed something odd. There was a sheet missing from my bed. Figuring I just kicked it off as I slept, I took a look around the bed. Nothing. Not under the bed, not behind it, not around it. I looked all over and couldn't find it. With a sigh I sat down on the bloody bed. What a day, and I just woke up. My headache pounded as I tried to think, tried to calm down. I felt like crap, but I also felt nervous for some reason. A bloody nose and a headache then my sheet is gone. I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. What a fucking day. Then I looked up, intent on some aspirin
and I noticed something else. My closet door wasn't closed all the way. I could tell because the latch rested on the outside of the frame. Now I was really freaking out.

I stood up, in nothing but my boxers and approached the door. I reached for the handle. I looked up at those two panels and again, they seemed to angle down at me, staring me dead in the eye. I hesitated and took a step back. Why was it open and why was I so scared of it? It was just a door. Nothing to be scared of
I told myself this probably a million times as my hand shook on the knob. The quaking knob made small rattling noises as the latch vibrated against the frame. Finally I took a deep breath, made a tight fist, and swung open the door.

Inside was the five jackets, dress shirts, dress pants, and two pairs of shoes I wear for interviews. They were all aligned and straight on the rack they hung on by their hangers. Just as I had left them five years ago. I looked down and there was my sheet under the coats. It was folded up neatly into a perfect square. One word raced across my mind a thousand times. How? How how how how how how? I didn't know, and I didn't think I wanted to know. Mustering my courage again, I reached down and grabbed the sheet then I shut the door. I must've used more force than usual as the door shut with a small slam. I jumped in response, but I stood my ground otherwise. I looked back up at the two panels and remained still. They looked back. They seemed to be waiting for some sort of response to my findings. Did they want praise, fear, scolding? What was I do to? Should I tell it how much it scared me and how terrible of a trick it was? I looked up at it. It looked back. I never moved from where I was until around 10 am.

The day pressed on. I was downstairs, cleaned up and my headache was gone. I was sitting on my couch watching TV. I was watching a documentary. It was about the civil war and how Sherman marched through Atlanta burning all in his path. Next to me in a chair was the sheet I found in the closet. I didn't take the time to put them back on the bed, nor did I take the bloody sheets and pillow to be washed. I didn't intent to sleep up there anyway. Yet it seems my venture to avoid the door was not something I was destined. As a man talked about how Sherman planned to burn Atlanta to the ground I heard something that made my blood run cold. A loud slam echoed through the emptiness of my house. It was a fierce slam, like someone who was running for their life would slam a door in front of a killer. Or like how a child looking for attention would slam their parent's door. I jumped up from the couch and look up the stairs leading to my room. The slam echoed in my ears a few times as I gazed up, unable to move. I was not just scared anymore. I was terrified. Something was in my house, something hid behind that door. And that something wanted my attention.

"Hello?" I called out. I wasn't sure how I was able to muster the courage to call out into the empty house. I wasn't even sure why I thought I'd get answer. I didn't and the house was silent once again. My nerves were not settled however. I took a few steps forward, my socks whispering on the pale carpet. I stopped and nothing continued to happen. I licked my lips, they were incredibly dry. I then jogged. I couldn't believe how fast I decided to see the door. My body felt like on autopilot as I skipped up steps to my room. I flew past the bathroom and suddenly found myself at the doorway leading to my room. I looked around the corner. There was the door. It was shut tight, no latch left out. I stepped into my room. I stepped slowly, cautiously. Those two panels watched my every move like the eyes of a hawk, or that of a demon. I looked at them as I continued. Every few steps I paused to listen and watch. Nothing happened. Then I was at the door. I looked up at the panels again. This time something else caught my eye. It was a long streak. The door was covered with them, but this one was larger than the rest. The streak extended between the two panels and curved. It was smiling at me.

I was downstairs again. This time with a beer in my hands, the quilt over me, and my head on the arm of the couch. The time was 11:30pm. I was watching a movie. One of the Die Hards I think it was. I sat, my eyes blank and my body cold. I was very cold now. I even wore my jacket under the quilt and I was still shivering. I was probably actually very scared, yet I didn't feel all that scared. Just cold. I watched as explosions came off the screen, as gunfire was passed back and forth between Bruce Willis and some terrorists. I watched, my body shivering yet still. I took a drink of the beer only every ten minutes, on the minute. I watched
nd waited. I knew I was waiting for something. For the door to do something, yet I couldn't leave. I didn't feel the need yet. I felt distant, actually. I felt like I was watching myself watch TV. I only ever came back to the present whenever the ten minutes came up. I watched TV and kept an ear out for something.

At 12:00 midnight, just as I drank my beer I heard what I was waiting for. The walls shook, the ground quaked, and my heart stopped. There was another loud slam, oh, but it wasn't over yet. That slam was followed by another, and another, and another. The pace was slow at first, but it picked up quickly. It was almost like listening to a giant smash against a wall over and over again. My body moved faster than I ever thought I could, yet I remember every moment. My hair standing up, my legs kicking off the quilt, my hands grabbing the keys to my car. My head turning to the stairs. The slamming continued throughout the process. I ran out the door, I ran to my car. Then I drove away. I drove so fast, so fast to get away from the slamming. It continued in my head. Pounding, over and over and over again. It just wouldn't stop. I couldn't concentrate. I just heard the slamming of my closet door over and over again, like a jackhammer. It pierced my mind and broke my sanity. I began to laugh and laughed even louder as I watched a pair of headlights rush into my car.

Acording to Madmechanic, this thread is becoming unscary. I shall fix this! I don't how many of you are familliar with the Bloody Mary legends, but here goes...

So there we go, it's 22:51 here and I know that I'm not getting to sleep tonight. The only one of these old legends that has ever scared me... why did I bring it up?

Well, thanks to talking to Not_the_DM today, I watched Marble Hornets.
I don't think I'll be sleeping for quite some time now...

And NTD - the tales of Mary probably could have had a better effect - had it not been for the names. I'm sorry, but I'm just laughing at them. Father Christmas?
well, atleast it proves the existance of one mythical character

David_G:

What is it that wakes us up? Is it our mind simply sending a jolt of messages to our body? Is it something we get use to? The truth is, the only thing that can wake us from our deep sleep is a sound. A feeling. A breeze. Whether it is a bird chirping outside, or the call of an alarm. Or a door opening or a swift motion of air. Humans can not wake up on their own.

What happens if that feeling to alert us never comes? The first weeks pass, your skin begins to crisp away. By a month your body has rotted from the inside out. By a year, you are nothing but a few bones.

So just remember this when you next go to sleep.

I hear the winds will be still tonight.

... I'm sure I'ma sound like an idiot, but wouldn't that mean that all deaf people would just never wake up?

THEAFRONINJA:

David_G:

What is it that wakes us up? Is it our mind simply sending a jolt of messages to our body? Is it something we get use to? The truth is, the only thing that can wake us from our deep sleep is a sound. A feeling. A breeze. Whether it is a bird chirping outside, or the call of an alarm. Or a door opening or a swift motion of air. Humans can not wake up on their own.

What happens if that feeling to alert us never comes? The first weeks pass, your skin begins to crisp away. By a month your body has rotted from the inside out. By a year, you are nothing but a few bones.

So just remember this when you next go to sleep.

I hear the winds will be still tonight.

... I'm sure I'ma sound like an idiot, but wouldn't that mean that all deaf people would just never wake up?

Yes, well most creepy pasta is like that, better if you don't think about it too much, granted, some can really make you feel scared, especially if you think about them.

So night number two of not sleeping. How I hate having an over active imagination.

Edit: Mostly due to that f*^king dog on the first page. I know it's a fake but I still can't get it out of my head.

the stroy about the masterpiece creature scared the shit out of me =[

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