File :-(, x, )
Creepypasta gogogogogogogo
>> Anonymous
ok here's a good one:

get out
>> Anonymous
I live in the UK. A colleague at work heard this from her boyfriend. He works with someone who said that his sister's friend got the last tube (subway train) home a couple of weeks ago. When she got on there were 5 rows of seats empty but the last row had three people sitting in them. As she was a little afraid, she went and sat opposite these people. She settled down and looked up to see the woman sitting opposite her really staring at her. So she got out her book and started to read but every time she looked up the woman was still staring. The train pulled into the next station and a man got on. He looked up and down the carriage, took a look at her and the people opposite her and came and sat next to her. As the train left the station the man leaned back and said quietly in her ear "If you know what's good for you, you'll get off at the next station with me". She was scared but thought the best idea would be to get off at the next station as he asked as there might be people around. The next stop comes up and she leaves the train with this man. The man says "Thank God, I didn't mean to scare you but I had to get you off that train. I'm a doctor and the woman sitting opposite you was dead and the two men either side were propping her up". According to the guy who told this story, the girl and the doctor called the police who stopped the train at the next station.
>> Anonymous
Anything from the Scary Stories books. The stories were lame and too kid-friendly, but the illustrations were damned near demonic.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
Clown Train shall remember this.
>> Anonymous
Heres another good one;
There was a couple from Texas who was planning a weekend trip across the Mexican border for a shopping spree. At the last minute, their baby-sitter canceled, so they had to bring along their two year old son with them. They had been across the border for an hour when the boy got free and ran around the corner. The mother tried to find him, but he was missing. The mother found a police officer who told her to go to the gate and wait. Not really understanding the instructions, she did as she was told. About 45 minutes later, a Mexican man approached the border, carrying the boy. The mother ran to him, grateful that he had been found. When the man realized it was the boy's mother, he dropped him and ran. The police were waiting for him. The boy was dead, and in the 45 minutes he was missing, he had been cut open, all of his organs removed, and stuffed with bags of cocaine. The man was going to carry him across the border as if he were asleep.
>> Anonymous
Dear /b/, Last night I had a dream that I was having wild sex with a 12 year old boy. I started caressing his silky smooth body, moving upwards, I jammed my tounge down his throat and we made out for a while. Then, I moved lower, licking his nipples while his littlePENISbecame incredibly hard. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was inside of him... though I never saw his face. I am pretty sure that /b/ is solely to blame for this event. Nevertheless, I am compelled to return to /b/ and ask, what does this mean and how do I fix it?? .­ff
>> Anonymous
Am I the only one delivering?;
You get a phone call from your Mother. Since her car has been in the shop, she asks you to go to the grocery store and pick up a few odds and ends for her. Bread, milk, cereal, and chicken breasts.
After writing down a small list you reluctantly get in the car and pick up the items at the store. The lady cashier makes an odd remark to you, "You know, we're in no danger of a milk shortage." Upon arriving at her house you knock several times. No answer. You decide to try the door. It opens. You place the grocery bag on the counter. Strange. There seems to be six other grocery bags, each with identical contents. In a couple, the chicken and the milk has gone bad. "Mom," you call out, but no answer. You make your way thru the kitchen and into the living room. Sitting on the couch, with her head cut off and neatly resting on her lap, is your Mother.
Naturally you call the police who come over to investigate. They mention that she has been dead for nearly a week. Furthermore, the police psychiatrist is at the scene and talks to you after you give your initial statement. Sitting on the front steps, you overhear the psychiatrist talking with the crime scene investigator. "It's not uncommon for people suffering from schizophrenia to get locked into a series of repetitive behaviors," he says.

You think to yourself, "They can't be talking about me. Schizophrenia? Nah. Repetitive behavior? Do they think I did this?" Suddenly your cell phone goes off. "Hello?"

"Hi hun, it's me. Could you stop at the store and pick up some chicken and milk. Ohh, and I need some bread and cereal too."

"No problem Mom. I'll be right over..."
>> Anonymous
how about the virus outbreak a couple of days ago?
that's one heck of a creepy shit!
>> Anonymous
anything fresh?
>> Anonymous
Not really, just tons of Creepy Copypasta
>> Anonymous
i fucking love those books, i had one on my bookshelf but it got packed
>> Anonymous
more delivery plox
>> Anonymous
A baby girl is mysteriously dropped off at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945. "Jane" grows up lonely and dejected, not knowing who her parents are, until one day in 1963 she is strangely attracted to a drifter. She falls in love with him, but just when things are looking up for Jane a series of disasters strikes: First, she becomes pregnant by the drifter, who then disappears. Second, during the complicated delivery doctors discover that Jane has both sets of sex organs, and to save her life, they most surgically convert "her" to a "him." Finally, a mysterious stranger kidnaps her baby from the delivery room.

Reeling from these disasters, rejected from society, scorned by fate, "he" becomes a drunkard and a drifter. Not only has Jane lost her parents and her lover, but he has lost his only child as well. Years later, in 1970, he stumbles into a lonely bar, called Pop's Place, and spills out his pathetic story to an elderly bartender. The sympathetic bartender offers the drifter the chance to avenge the stranger who left her pregnant and abandoned, on the condition that he join the "time traveller corps." Both of them enter a time machine and the bartender drops the drifter off in 1963. The drifter is strangely attracted to a young orphan girl, who subsequently becomes pregnant.

The bartender then goes forward 9 months, kidnaps the baby girl from the hospital, and drops the baby off in an orphanage back in 1945. Then the bartender drops off the thoroughly confused drifter in 1985, to enlist in the time traveller corps. The drifter eventually gets his life together and becomes respected and elderly member of the time traveller corps, and then disguises himself as a bartender and has his most difficult mission: a date with destiny, meeting a certain drifter at Pop's Place in 1970.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
I'll post a couple more that I have;
It's the summer, and you're out of your college classes for at least a week or two, before the next semester starts. You've spent this time lounging around, and sleeping a lot. But lately, correspondence between your local friends has dropped off. They don't drop by. Your phone's been quiet for awhile.And your IM lists are all empty.

After five days of this, you've gotten bored enough to try chatrooms. They're all empty; even the big ones. Any e-mails you send get no replies.

When you leave your apartment, the whole of the building is unearthly silent. The only noise that comes about at all is the whir from the automated Rail outside. Nobody answers when you knock. All the buildings are dark and locked up when you look out the window; the only cars are of the parked variety.

A search of the entire building, and even further beyond that, yields nothing. No life; the only movement is from the wind, or the automated pieces of machinery. Defeated, you slink back into the empty apartment complex.

On your door is pinned a note:

"Turns out the guy in room 302 really could sleep through the end of the world."

The note is dated five days ago.
>> Anonymous
Last one I'm doing; Time for other anons to deliver;

During the summer of 1983, in a quiet town near Minneapolis,
Minnesota, the charred body of a woman was found inside the kitchen
stove of a small farmhouse. A video camera was also found in the
kitchen, standing on a tripod and pointing at the oven.
No tape was found inside the camera at the time.

Although the scene was originally labeled as a homicide by police,
an unmarked VHS tape was later discovered at the bottom of the farm's
well (which had apparently dried up earlier that year).

Despite its worn condition, and the fact that it contained no audio,
police were still able to view the contents of the tape. It depicted
a woman recording herself in front of a video camera (seemingly using
the same camera the police found in the kitchen). After positioning
the camera to include both her and her kitchen stove in the image,
the tape then showed her turning on the oven, opening the door,
crawling inside, and then closing the door behind her. Eight minutes
into the video, the oven could be seen shaking violently, after which
point thick black smoke could be seen emanating from it. For the
remaining 45 minutes of video, until the batteries in the camera died,
it remained in its stationary position.
>> Anonymous
thats not creepy, just para....doxy
>> Anonymous
>> Anonymous
Item#: SCP-173
Special Containment Procedures: Item SPC-173 is to be kept in a locked container at all times. When personnel must enter SCP-173's container, no fewer than 3 may enter at
any time and the door is to be relocked behind them. At all times, two persons must maintain direct eye contact with SCP-173 until all personnel have vacated and relocked the container.

Description: Moved to Site19 1993. Origin is as of yet unknown. It is constructed from concrete and rebar with traces of Krylon brand spraypaint. SCP-173 is animate extremely hostile.
The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight. Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP-173. Personnel assigned to enter container are instructed to alert one another before blinking.
Object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull, or by strangulation. In the event of an attack, personal are to observe Class 4 hazardous object containment procedures.

Personnel report sounds of scraping stone originating from within the container when no one is present inside. This is considered normal, and any change in this behaviour should be reported to the acting HMCL supervisor on duty.

The reddish brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood. Origin of these materials is unknown. The enclosure must be cleaned on a bi-weekly basis.
>> Anonymous
This is not a random post. This is not a coincidence. I put this here because I know that right now you will be reading it. No one can see this post except for you.

There is a monster in your home. It is there right now and it is waiting to kill you. It will kill you tonight. I can save you.

Go to a mirror. Any mirror. That in there, that's me. Turn off all the lights except for the dimmest one; too much light screws it up. Take your arms, put them straight out, and put them up against mine, through the glass. Do your best to rlax, and when you are ready, close your eyes. Count to three and then I will pull you through to safety. We can work out what to do next once you're in.

Again, this is not a random post. It is for YOU. You need to do this before the next hour turns or you will die.

I'm waiting.
>> Anonymous
You were away for the weekend, and wake up in your appartment monday morning with a hangover.. When you check your mail, your mailbox is stuffed full. At least 30 letters. Letters with no return address, several of them felt soggy and heavy, as though they were recently wet, or perhaps contained a liquid. All of the letters have your name and address written on them, and many of them had your name scratched all over them in red ink. They don't smell nice, they smell like rotting meat and old garbage and you're reluctant to take them back to your room, but curiosity gets the better of you.

So you manage to cart them all back to your room, you dump them in your kitchenette sink because you don't want them smelling up the rest of the apartment. You grab one that doesn't seem damp and isn't covered with writing, and open it up. There's pictures inside. Pictures of people you don't know, with their eyes torn out, teeth missing, unhinged jaws hanging open, throats ripped out. You're horrified and yet you can't help but wonder what's in the rest of the letters. You open more, and more to discover increasingly gruesome photos of dead people. Piles of bodies with limbs missing, splayed open corpses on operating tables with their vital organs removed, hanged bodies that have been gutted and bled dry. Some of the soggy letters had blood and other fluids in them. The more letters you open, the more you notice that not all of the people are strangers. Some of them were people you see at work, others people you went to high school with. By the time you get to the last few letters, the pictures are of the mutilated bodies of your close friends and family members. The last picture, opened with fumbling hands and gripped in trembling fingers, is you.

Covered with gore, grinning from ear to ear.

You hear police sirens.
>> Anonymous
The next time you're alone in your room, turn down the lights. Think of something on your body that varies in length, such as hair. It must be clearly viewable from your perspective. Grab a ruler and, looking in the mirror, quickly grab a hair at random; you must confuse it. Hold it in position as best you can and note the length. Look down. Yours will be different.

Don't look back up.

Don't turn your back to that mirror ever again.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
Have you ever heard the expression "an apple a day keeps the Doctor away?" Most assume, with no reason to think otherwise, that it is simply an easy-to-remember rhyme that stresses the importance of eating healthily to young children. But the saying did not originate as a harmless reminder. It was born in a frontier town in the early years of the gold rush, where food was scarce and money even scarcer.

One August, when a bad drought had struck the region, a series of bloody killings swept through the town. Every night, a single house would be broken into, and anyone who saw the invader would be swiftly, brutally slain. Nothing was ever stolen, save for a few scraps of food.

After two weeks of this, the local grocer set out a few apples and a glass of milk in the town square overnight. He then hid in the tower of the church, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone who came by.

Fighting fatigue, the grocer waited for any sign of life below. Just after midnight, he was rewarded by a chilling sight; a man, carrying a black bag stuffed with dully shining metal tools and covered from head to foot in cloth bandages, staggered into view. He paused at the sight of the apples and milk, then whipped his head around, as if looking for the one who dared to patronize him. Seized with fear, the grocer ducked out of sight, staying hidden 'til sunrise.

The strange man had only taken one of the apples, and didn't even touch the glass of milk. No houses were broken into, and noone was killed. For decades, the town continued to place out an apple or two every night, even long after a single apple stopped dissapearing.
>> Anonymous
"Daddy, I had a bad dream."
You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it's 3:23.
"Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?"
"No, Daddy."
The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room. "Why not, sweetie?"
"Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up."
For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.
>> Anonymous
You know that ringing sound that you will perceive when you are in a very quiet area? Some people say this is an auditory-illusion brought about the ear's inability to detect frequencies below the threshold of the human senses. This is completely wrong. That ringing covers up something else altogether. If you are quick, patient, and maybe a little lucky, you will be able to hear past the ringing. What you will hear are voices whispering to each other. They will silence themselves quickly but with practice, you will become more adept at catching and interpreting what they are saying. You will hear things of the past, the present, and the future. However, you must be careful. Because there is no such thing as a voice without a body.

And when you start noticing them, they will start noticing you.
>> Anonymous
There is a small island in the Mediterranean Sea that does not appear on any map. It cannot be seen from any other island, nor can any other land be seen from it. On this island is a lighthouse, rotting from age and sea water, that is never lit. There is nothing inside it, save for a spiraling staircase that leads to the top, and an ancient, dusty bookcase.

The case is filled with unmarked books, bound in ancient leather, save for a single space. If you remove a book from the shelf, it will fling itself open in your hands, and the words inscribed in it shall start screaming to the air. You must wrestle the book closed and shove it back on the shelf, or the immortal evil contained within its pages shall break free, and you will be forced to take its place, with pages, ink and binding crafted from your own flesh and blood.

However, if you bring the correct book to the island, and place it in the empty space, the lighthouse will light. As long as it is lit, the world shall enjoy an unending paradise, for all the evil in the world will be contained in the lighthouse. And while it is lit, nothing can go in or out.

The only problem; you will be trapped for eternity with all the evil ever known or conceived, by man or god. And the only way to escape, is to douse the light.
>> Anonymous
best creepy pasta ever

i couldnt sleep
>> Anonymous
Many classic horror icons, such as Geiger's Xenomorphs, Silent Hill's Pyramid Head, and other disturbing creatures, share common characteristics. Pale skin, dark, sunken eyes, elongated faces, sharp teeth, and the like. These images inspire horror and revulsion in many, and with good reason. The characteristics shared by these faces are imprinted in the human mind. Many things frighten humans instinctively. The fear is natural, and does not need to be reinforced in order to terrify. The fears are species-wide, stemming from dark times in the past when lightning could mean the burning of your tree home, thunder could be the approaching gallops of a stampede, predators could hide in darkness, and heights could make poor footing lethal. The question you have to ask yourself is this: What happened, deep in the hidden eras before history began, that could effect the entire human race so evenly as to give the entire species a deep, instinctual, and lasting fear of pale beings with dark, sunken eyes, razor sharp teeth, and elongated faces?
>> Anonymous
Somewhere in West Philidelphia, you will find an old basketball court with a single ball lying in the middle. Pick it up and start shooting hoops. After a while, a small group of hooligans will approach you and challenge you to a fight, which you must accept.

After the fight, you must go home and relay the events to your mother. She will then inform you that you have an aunt and uncle living in one of the districts of Los Angeles, and out of fear, she will send you to live there for an indefinite period of time.

With your bags packed, go to the street corner, and whistle for a cab. The cab that will pull up will bear the word FRESH on the lisence plate, and upon closer inspection, novelty fuzzy dice will hang in the mirror. Although you will think that cabs like these are rare, don't say anything about it. At this point you MUST point out in front of the car and say 'Yo homes to Bel Air'. You will stop in front of a mansion, and it will be somewhere between 7 and 8 o'clock, even though it will feel like you've been traveling mere seconds. Get your luggage out and say 'Yo holmes, smell ya later!', but do NOT turn back to face the cabby. Walk up to the door, look over your shoulder once, and then knock on the door three times.

If you follow these intructions, your life will get flip-turned upside-down.
>> Anonymous
>> Anonymous
Next time the mood strikes you, pick up a box of envelopes and a sheet of stamps from the store. I know, nobody writes letters anymore. But give it a try. You'll be glad you did.

Write a nice letter on some decent stock. Something about you, your life, what you're doing, what's exciting you right now. Address it to "Mr. Teller". Make sure to be thorough, and try to keep your handwriting decent. Now fold it neatly, stick it in your envelope. Put a stamp on it.

Now address it:

888 Eerie Rd
Lasser, AZ 60481
C/O: Mr. Teller

That's it. Drop it in your mail box. Wait a week or two. You won't see the mail man come by. If you're at home when you get delivery, go out about an hour afterwards. You'll smell the distinct odor of rotting beef fat, and charcoal. If you're at work, or school, or whatever, no big deal. You'll get hints. A little bit of jiggling stuff on the handle of your mail box that looks like the skin you peel off after a bad sunburn. Maybe a black, greasy streak on the side of the mailbox. The hints don't matter. What's important is the letters.

They're from the future. Yeah? Pretty lame, I know. But try it anyway.

>> Anonymous
The first few will be from a week or two ahead of you. They'll be about you, too. Depends on what you're doing. Got a big school project? It'll congratulate you/console you, depending on how you're meant to do. Get a new girlfriend? It'll suggest that whoever is writing them wants to meet her or tell you there's plenty of fish in the sea.

This won't stop. Ever. So get used to it. And they'll start being from farther and farther ahead.

They'll tell you about your 40th birthday when you might only thirty. Over the hill, ha ha! Your retirement when you've just started doing what you love. RSVP for the funeral of your spouse...before you've met her. And that's the thing. As they get further and further ahead, they'll start telling you about things you haven't started yet. They'll start being useful. They'll tell you how to become rich, successful, popular with the opposite sex.

The only problem is, well... they don't change fate, so much. They just help your predict it. It'll make you think you can change the future, but you can't. You can just know what's coming, sooner. But the letters might tell you you're going to die young. And you might think you can run.

You can't. And that's when things get really bloody. Just a warning.

But you'll forget the warning, think you can get away.

Shit, I did.

-Mr. Teller
>> Anonymous
>> Anonymous
Thats all the pasta I have on this computer, and I am going to bed. I highly recommend that you check out this story though, its long but very good.
>> Anonymous
Sounds like some shit outta Dexter

related sidenote: anyone read house of leaves?
>> Anonymous
>> Anonymous
HOUSE OF LEAVES is the greatest and strangest book ever fucking written. wow. totally amazing
>> Anonymous

Uh what?
>> Anonymous
House Of Leaves is god.

All hail Zampano.
>> Anonymous

"All you zombies".

It's as fucking unoriginal as anything gets in these threads. They used to be cool, now it's just the same shit posted over and over again. No longer even remotely scary.
>> Anonymous
red version
>> Anonymous
Worse, it knows nothing of whim.
>> Anonymous
>> Anonymous
When I was in 3nd grade my father, who was in the air force, was transferred to Iceland. There wasn’t much going on there other than a bunch of frost, a couple feet of snow, and black volcanic rock. Overall, it sucked, /b/. My sister and I didn’t find playing outside very intriguing, as you can imagine, since we couldn’t even have our bikes. Living in the tiny apartment were afforded by the air force with my father, mother, and younger sister day after day fucking sucked. It’s no surprise that after less than half a year, my mom decided it would be better to pack me and my sister up and head back to the U.S. We moved to Louisiana, near Alexandria, since all my mom’s family lived there. After a couple weeks of my grandparents, my mom finally moved the three of us into our own apartment.

This is where the real story begins.

The apartment we moved into was rent controlled and in a predominately black neighborhood (we’re white, btw). That was no big deal, really. Both of my parents are white trash, so it’s not like we give a shit what colour people are. But, as you can imagine, the neighborhood wasn’t very good, in general, but we were poor and didn’t really care as long as there was running water, electricity, and bars on the window (all of which we had). During the middle our first day there, we heard gun shots go off in the distance and police sirens were constantly going off nearby, something which we tuned out with the radio.
>> Anonymous

We spent most of the afternoon bringing in what stuff we had and setting up our rooms for the night. Being a guy, I got my own room and my younger sister and my mom decided to share the other bedroom. Around 8 or 9 o’clock that night, my mom got a phone call from my grandparents. They had just bought a new T.V. that afternoon and were willing to give the old one to us as long as my mom came and picked it. The only problem was that my Aunt is the kind of bitch that likes to take shit from other people, so if my mom wanted it, she’d have to get it first. Rather than lose the shitty T.V., my mom decided to go and get it that night, leaving me to look after my younger sister for an hour or two. We were supposed to be in bed, anyway, so it wasn’t like it was a big deal.

So my mom leaves. My sister and me are in our rooms, in our beds. A little time passes and I’m just about to fall asleep when I hear my sister start screaming. I bolt up out of my bed and run across the hall, concerned mostly because if something happens to her, my mom’ll be pissed at me. My sister is sitting in her bed staring with a frightened expression at the window. I look at the window and there’s nothing there. There’s a window shade pulled over the window. There’s a light right outside the window, so the entire thing is kind see-through/kind of opaque.
>> Anonymous

MOAR This is pretty good so far. I live in LA and am very intrigued
>> Anonymous
The conversation that we had followed something like this:

“What?” I asked, kind of irritated. Because, seriously, the bitch had just woken me and was now staring at a fucking window. “Is it a bug?” I added. (That’s usually the only time my sister ever screams, even to this day.)

“There was a shadow!” She said. Her voice kind of high and frightened.

“Duh, stupid. It’s night.”

And I left it at that and stomped back to my room, ignoring my sister’s calling out for me to come back.

A few seconds after I had crawled back into my bed, my sister followed me into my room and stood by my bed.

“What!?” I demanded. “I want to go to bed!”

“But the shadow!” She cried out.

“I don’t care. Go to bed. Mom’ll be mad if she comes back and you’re still up.”

“It was a man shadow!” My sister continued, ignoring me. “I saw his head!”

“I didn’t see anything.” I replied skeptically.

“He left when I screamed.” She replied.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there? Go to bed.”
>> Anonymous
At this point, I didn’t really believe that my sister had seen anything. She lied a lot to get me in trouble when I was a kid, so it’s not like I was inclined to believe her or anything, but at this point she started crying and saying that she didn’t want to sleep alone. I told her to go wait for mom to get home and let me go to sleep. After yelling at her, when she didn’t immediately leave, she finally ran off to her room sobbing. After a long while of listening to her, she finally stopped crying and was pretty silent. At some point I had just fallen asleep when I woke up to something clatter loudly in the next room.

I was pissed off when I got out of bed, this time, /b/. And I knew that when my mom came home I’d probably get chewed out for not making sure my sister was in bed. She’d probably broken something playing in the dark or something shit, so I stomped out of my room and across the hall to yell at her and make her get back in bed. I had just gotten into the room when I heard my sister scream louder than anything I had ever heard from her.

I stood in the doorway of the room, panic rushing through me as I stared at the large, dark figure standing next to the bed and over my sister. The window shade was slanted slightly to the side behind it and the Barbie house that my sister had set in front of the window was gone. I found out later that the noise that had woken me up was the sound of the Barbie house falling to the ground. The figure was kind of hesitant as it reached out towards my sister and she literally fell out of bed trying to get away from the figure and landed on the side of the bed next to me.
>> Anonymous
My legs were shaking and I felt like throwing up and screaming all at the same time as the figure started to make its way around the bed. This snapped me out of my stupor and I grabbed my sister’s arm and yanked her up off the floor with more strength than a ten-year old should ever possess. She stumbled after me as I yanked her out of the room, sobbing, because she was so scared, but it’s not like I can blame her since I was just as scared and if I hadn’t instinctively known to get the fuck out of there I probably would have been crying right beside her. I pulled her into the bathroom between my room and her room and slammed the door and locked it. A few seconds later the knob on the door started jiggling and making clinking noises as the man outside tried to turn the knob and open it.

My sister started screaming again and I was doing it right along with her. The knob stopped and we stared at it in horror, but it was still. A few minutes passed and my sister reached to open the door, but I smacked her hand away from the knob and told her to get in the tub. There was no fucking way I was leaving that room until my mom came back.

There was a couple more minutes of silence and then I faintly heard something slam from further in the house. I heard quiet steps coming through the hall and the door started rattling. There was the clink of metal scrapping and something jutted through the slot next to the door. As you can deduce, the bastard was back and trying to get into the bathroom using a knife from our own kitchen.
>> Anonymous
How did the tape get in the well then?
>> Anonymous
A few minutes passed and I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my chest and then there was a clink! And the lock popped open. Before the door could swing open, I pressed the lock back into the doorknob and slammed the door. He was probably surprised that the door had open and if I had been any slower, he definitely would have gotten in. He was back at it, again, a few seconds later, trying to pop the lock—when he just suddenly stopped and dropped the knife on the carpet.

I heard his footsteps as he ran away from the door and then nothing.

I don’t know how long passed, but it felt like forever when I heard someone bang on the door of the bathroom. My sister was crying in the tub and I was hiding behind the door. The man banging on the door identified himself as the police. But I’m a paranoid motherfucker I refused to open the door. There was another man’s voice and I heard the static as he talked into a radio. They talked to us, asked if anyone was hurt, what had happened, do we know why they were called, shit like that. They tried to coax us out for probably a half-hour before my mom came home.

When I heard my mom I willingly opened the door. The guys outside the door really were the police, thank god, and my mom was completely horrified and confused about what was going on.
>> Anonymous
Holy shit dude, is there any more?
>> Anonymous
My sister and I told them what happened and we found out that the bars outside my sister’s window had been sawed through previously and then put back as though they weren’t. My sister really had seen a shadow of a man outside her window when she had screamed that first time. We never found out who broke into the house, but it was a couple of hours before the police left. My mom spent the rest of the night patrolling the house with a steak knife, ready if the guy ever came back. The next day, in the early morning, we moved out.

The only thing I really have left to say is that that Barbie House is probably the only thing that saved my sister from being raped and killed, because he sure as hell didn’t climb through my window. Ergo, she was probably what the motherfucker was after.

That's all I have to say for this thread /b/. It probably doesn't sound all that terrifying but that incident is one that still scares the shit of me even today. My sister refuses to even look out windows at night because of this shit.
>> Anonymous
Then my mom told us on the ride to our new home that we were moving with out auntie and uncle in Bel Aire.
>> Anonymous

Actually, it was Alexandria.
>> Anonymous
Wow, my hats off to you sir for that story. As you stated, not very scary, but DAMN intriguing. 2 Internets shall be yours
>> Anonymous
That was me bitch
>> Anonymous
>> Anonymous

Awesome. I guess that means we can go to therapy together and figure out the source of your "problem." Sister is off limits, though. Doubt she's your type now, anyway, right?
>> Anonymous
now my mirror is dirty...anyway:

You've just had a long days work. Feeling tense and stressed, you just want to kick back and relax with your co-workers before heading home, so you head to your local bar. The night starts off fairly routine, you buy a few round of drinks and talk about the day's events. After one of your friends cracks a hilarious joke, you take another sip of beer and just as you put our drink down, you notice a woman sitting a few seats down from you who neither you nor your friends ever recalled seeing walk into the bar, but none of you care because of her long slender legs, slender hips, large breasts, long wavy dark hair, and skin soft and smoother than any you've seen within the last few months. One other thing you noticed is that she is looking at you. Not you and your friends, just you. After your buds crack a few more jokes, you decide to make your way over to her and chat things up. The two of you hit it off really well and after a few more drinks, she asks you to walk her home. You tell your friends good night and that you'll see them at work the next day (despite not know what is about to happen). When you get back to her place, she immediately jumps onto you and begins kissing you wildly, turning you on in seconds. she begins to undress you and pulls down her top revealing two very large beautiful breasts. She pushes you onto the bed and as you lay back, she starts giving you the best oral sex you've ever had. As soon as your done, feeling the best you've had in years, you'd love nothing more than to turn over and go to sleep. But it's not over yet...The woman stands up and removes the rest of her clothing.

"It's YOUR turn to suck MY cock now."
>> Anonymous
This is not a random post. This is not a coincidence. I put this here because I know that right now you will be reading it. No one can see this post except for you.

There is a monster in your home. It is there right now and it is waiting to kill you. It will kill you tonight. I can save you.

Go to a mirror. Any mirror. That in there, that's me. Turn off all the lights except for the dimmest one; too much light screws it up. Take your arms, put them straight out, and put them up against mine, through the glass. Do your best to rlax, and when you are ready, close your eyes. Count to three and say my name: Candlejack. I'll pull you through and we can decide what to do from there.

Again, this is not a random post. It is for YOU. You need to do this before the next hour turns or you will die.

I'm waiting.
>> Anonymous

That was me as well bitch.
>> Anonymous
seriously the greatest creepy story i have ever read.
I want to know what happens though
>> Anonymous
I would argue that neither the Xenomorphs or Pyramid Head are "classic" horror figures.
>> Anonymous
yeah good