File :-(, x, )
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
A few years ago, a mother and father decided they needed a break, so they wanted to head out for a night on the town. They called their most trusted babysitter. When the babysitter arrived, the two children were already fast asleep in bed. So the babysitter just got to sit around and make sure everything was okay with the children. Later that night, the babysitter got bored and went to watch TV, but she couldn't watch it downstairs because they did not have cable downstairs (the parents didn't want children watching too much garbage).

So, she called them and asked them if she could watch cable in the parent's room. Of course, the parents said it was ok, but the babysitter had one final request... she asked if she could cover up the angel statue outside the bedroom window with a blanket or cloth, at the very least close the blinds, because it made her nervous. The phone line was silent for a moment, and the father who was talking to the babysitter at the time said, "Take the children and get out of the house... we will call the police. We do not have an angel statue."

The police found all three of the house occupants dead within three minutes of the call. No angel statue was ever found.
>> Anonymous
You're at work alone, when you suddenly hear the copy machine start up. You walk out to take a look at what's going on and see several copies filling the tray. Picking up one of the pieces of paper you discover that it is a copy of a picture depicting you sitting in your office chair, dead, with your eyes torn out and your throat cut. The others are the same picture, but taken from increasingly bizarre angles.

There is no original picture in the copy machine. In fact, the machine has been out of toner for a week.
>> Anonymous
bump for moar creepypasta
>> Anonymous
You are home alone, and you hear on the news about the profile of a murderer who is on the loose. You look out the sliding glass doors to your backyard, and you notice a man standing out in the snow. He fits the profile of the murderer exactly, and he is smiling at you. You gulp, picking up the phone to your right and dialing 911. You look back out the glass as you press the phone to your ear, and notice he is much closer to you now. You then drop the phone in shock.

There are no footprints in the snow. It's his reflection.
>> Anonymous
WHO WAS PHONE?
>> Anonymous
>>72405749
fail
>> Anonymous
>>72406227
fail
>> Anonymous
moar creepy
common
>> Anonymous
/r/ing the picture of the little girl lying in her bed with the werewolf looking in at her from outside her bedroom window..
>> Anonymous
>>72406227
My favorite.
>> Anonymous
MOAR, perhaps with pictures.
>> Anonymous
tht one was alright
>> Anonymous
all these are old shits
>> Anonymous
i dont get the angel statue one.
>> Anonymous
/r/ing screenshot of "Who was phone?"
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
creepy shit
>> Anonymous
>>72406227

wins so far...

come on, last night's was epic!
>> Anonymous
>>72407264
A hiding pedo.
>> Anonymous
There was this woman whose husband was acting very strange one day, very paranoid, she asked him why and this is what he told her:

“Twelve years ago to this day a whole bunch of my friends and I went to an old haunted house downtown to stay the night because we thought it would be fun. We were all settled on the bottom floor of the house and we were fine for the first few hours. We began to hear things that sounded like foot steps pacing on the floor above, and scratching on the walls.”

“We sent Jimmy, who was the oldest of us, up to have a look so he grabbed his flashlight and we watched him head up the steps. His foot steps seemed to stop towards the last few steps where he was no longer visible to us and slowly his light faded from view, we called after him but there was no reply.”

“Afterwards we sent Matt, the second oldest up to find him, he walked up the steps and the same thing happened. At this point we thought they were joking, and out third eldest, Jason went up to look shouting that he knew it was a trick and to give it up, at the last few steps where the other guys had vanished his shouting voice became distant before vanishing completely.”

“The rest of us got scared and went home to call the police who checked it out the next morning and found blood smeared up the sides of the stairwell. They searched the entire house and never found a soul. The house was eventually knocked down and not one body was found. Every year on this day one of us remaining from that house has disappeared going from oldest to youngest.”

Her husband was not seen again after that day. Police held an brief investigation, but nothing came of it.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
....
>> Anonymous
>>72407507

wah?
>> Anonymous
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 address 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 you today.”
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
moar
>> Anonymous
In 1990, a small meteorite was sighted in the night sky by the Hubble telescope. It appeared to be on a collision course with earth, but calculations showed that it was far too small and moving far too slowly to be a threat to our home planet.

In 1997, the long-forgotten meteorite entered the atmosphere.

It did not burn away, as scientists predicted; it barely even grew warm. Even so, it landed without drawing much attention on the outskirts of a village in the middle of Africa, on the edge of the Sahara.

Three months later, a safari expedition vanished while en route through the jungle. They never reached their checkpoint, within walking distance from the desert.

A research team in 1998 happened on the impact crater of the meteorite by chance. They detected high levels of radiation in the crater, though they could not identify what element had caused it. They drove to the nearby village to warn the locals of the danger, but the settlement was completely empty.

>> Anonymous
>>72407550
absolute fail
>> Anonymous
>>72407764

Oh lawdie.
>> Anonymous
MOAR!!
>> Anonymous
>>72407855

is that a JUMP-OUT-AND-SCARE-YOU .gif?

im genuinely too pussy to watch it on my own at night
>> Anonymous
Moar
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>>72406930

delivered.
>> Anonymous
A laundress, newly moved to Charleston following the Civil War, found herself awakened at the stroke of twelve each night by the rumble of heavy wheels passing in the street. But she lived on a dead end street, and had no explanation for the noise. Her husband would not allow her to look out the window when she heard the sounds, telling her to leave well enough alone.

Finally, she asked the woman who washed at the tub next to hers. The woman said: “What you are hearing is the Army of the Dead. They are Confederate soldiers who died in hospital without knowing that the war was over. Each night, they rise from their graves and go to reinforce Lee in Virginia to strengthen the weakened Southern forces.”

The next night, the laundress slipped out of bed to watch the Army of the Dead pass. She stood spell-bound by the window as a Gray fog rolled passed. Within the fog, she could see the shapes of horses, and could hear gruff human voices and the rumble of canons being dragged through the street, followed by the sound of marching feet. Foot soldiers, horsemen, ambulances, wagons and canons passed before her eyes, all shrouded in Gray. After what seemed like hours, she heard a far off bugle blast, and then silence.

When the laundress came out of her daze, she found one of her arms was paralyzed. She has never done a full days washing since.
>> Anonymous
can we get less fail?
>> Anonymous
>>72408464
No, but it's fucking terrifying.
>> Anonymous
>>72408464
Nope, just creepy
>> Anonymous
A laundress, newly moved to Charleston following the Civil War, found herself awakened at the stroke of twelve each night by the rumble of heavy wheels passing in the street. But she lived on a dead end street, and had no explanation for the noise. Her husband would not allow her to look out the window when she heard the sounds, telling her to leave well enough alone.

Finally, she asked the woman who washed at the tub next to hers. The woman said: “What you are hearing is the Army of the Dead. They are Confederate soldiers who died in hospital without knowing that the war was over. Each night, they rise from their graves and go to reinforce Lee in Virginia to strengthen the weakened Southern forces.”

The next night, the laundress slipped out of bed to watch the Army of the Dead pass. She stood spell-bound by the window as a Gray fog rolled passed. Within the fog, she could see the shapes of horses, and could hear gruff human voices and the rumble of canons being dragged through the street, followed by the sound of marching feet. Foot soldiers, horsemen, ambulances, wagons and canons passed before her eyes, all shrouded in Gray. After what seemed like hours, she heard a far off bugle blast, and then silence.

When the laundress came out of her daze, she found one of her arms was paralyzed. She has never done a full days washing since.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
WHO WAS PHONE?
>> Anonymous
There’s a dark forest deep in the heart of the Rockies, surrounded on all sides by mountains. In the center of the forest is a lake on the shores of which you will find a large black stone. If you swim out into the center of the lake, the stone will drag you down into the darkness.

You will emerge from shadows in the alley of a frightening dark city of heavily arched roofs and buildings built on stilts. You must not talk to a single citizen of this city, or you shall be trapped there forever. The citizenry is horrid and mutated, and they will leer and curse at you, and their hideous and deformed women shall offer you unknown and horrible lewdnesses.

At the edge of this city is a highway. Walk down the left side of the road (yes, against traffic) with your thumb out and a man in a dark truck shall pick you up and drive you back the way you came. The city will be gone, and he will take you to any place on Earth as long as you can name it and there’s a road there.
>> Anonymous
Every individual will make 16 choices in their lifetime that will forever alter the course of humanity. No more than 16, no less than 16. These choices will be small, and at the time of decision, will mean nothing. They won’t have to be choices which result in action, they could be choices that result in inaction. But months, years along the way, when the full impact of your decisions and the chain reaction of events they have caused are felt… you may have been the one who caused the end of the world. And you will never know.
>> Anonymous
>>72408802
FAIL
>> Anonymous
Failthread is fail
>> Anonymous
>>72408776
Clearly phone was mom, no gender was specified
>> Anonymous
WHO WAS PHONE?
>> Anonymous
>>72408776
Thank you, I've been looking for that image.
>> Anonymous
There’s a dark forest deep in the heart of the Rockies, surrounded on all sides by mountains. In the center of the forest is a lake on the shores of which you will find a large black stone. If you swim out into the center of the lake, the stone will drag you down into the darkness.

You will emerge from shadows in the alley of a frightening dark city of heavily arched roofs and buildings built on stilts. You must not talk to a single citizen of this city, or you shall be trapped there forever. The citizenry is horrid and mutated, and they will leer and curse at you, and their hideous and deformed women shall offer you unknown and horrible lewdnesses.

At the edge of this city is a highway. Walk down the left side of the road (yes, against traffic) with your thumb out and whistle for a cab. When it comes near, check to see that its license plate says "fresh" and ensure there are dice in the mirror, because only that particular cab will take you back to the physical world. When the cab stops, greet him by telling him his cab is rare, but then tell him to forget it, instead asking you to take him to Bel Air. You will pull up to a house around 7:00 PM one week before you left, allowing you to fix any mistakes you had done the previous week.
>> Anonymous
WHO WAS PHONE?
>> Anonymous
>>72409840
YES
>> Anonymous
>>72409840
only good part about this thread, creep me out /b/
>> Anonymous
>>72409840

I shat brix
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>>72409840
>> Anonymous
>>72409840
>You will emerge from shadows in the alley of a frightening dark city of heavily arched roofs and buildings built on stilts. You must not talk to a single citizen of this city, or you shall be trapped there forever. The citizenry is horrid and mutated, and they will leer and curse at you, and their hideous and deformed women shall offer you unknown and horrible lewdnesses.

Rapture?!
>> Anonymous
Item #: SCP-173

Object class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Item SCP-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 spray paint. SCP-173 is animate and 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, personnel 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
     File :-(, x)
>>72409840

Bricks were shat
>> Anonymous
>>72407855
Im seriously to scared to look at this for over a few seconds and find out what it is
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>>72408776
I KNOW WHO WAS PHONE
>> Anonymous
WAT?

who was phone?

wat?
>> Anonymous
>>72409790
woha... stop right where you are and don't move

are you serious? is this... logics? LOGICS? ON MY /b/????
>> Anonymous
It was her eyes that first attracted me to her. I didn’t believe in love, but the
first time I gazed into her beautiful green eyes I knew she was the one.

I loved seeing myself reflected in those eyes, looking deep into her soul and
knowing I was a part of it. It’s kinda stupid, but I even wrote poetry about them. I
don’t remember much, but I told her “There’s so much life within your eyes, and so
much love”.

Oh God, I loved the way the light danced within them. I just couldn’t imagine not
being able to stare dreamily into them.

Now if I could just find a box that was half as beautiful as her eyes, I could stop
carrying them round in my pocket.
>> Anonymous
>>72410615

me too

how the fuck can one picture be so fuckin terrifying?!
>> Anonymous
>>72408464
As the other two said, it's just creepy to look at. I posted it, and it's one of my favorite creepy gifs.
>> David !!fsPwVGJPfvI
>>72407855
This one's not a screamer
>> Anonymous
Coffins used to be built with holes in them, attached to six feet of copper tubing and a bell. The tubing would allow air for victims buried under the mistaken impression they were dead. Harold, the Oakdale gravedigger, upon hearing a bell, went to go see if it was children pretending to be spirits. Sometimes it was also the wind. This time it wasn’t either. A voice from below begged, pleaded to be unburied.

“You Sarah O’Bannon?” Yes! the voice assured.
“You were born on September 17, 1827?”
“Yes!”
“The gravestone here says you died on February 19?”
“No I’m alive, it was a mistake! Dig me up, set me free!”

“Sorry about this, ma’am,” Harold said, stepping on the bell to silence it and plugging up the copper tube with dirt. “But this is August. Whatever you is down there, you ain’t alive no more, and you ain’t comin’ up.”
>> Anonymous
>>72408892
Chaos Effect.
Not really creepy.
>> Anonymous
Rumor has it that every Halloween during the hours of 2am and 5am, there exists a void. You must stand in front of a mirror in a pitch black room with your gaze fixated on the mirror. If you remain in the room when the moment arrives, you will feel a chill seize your body. Place your right hand on the mirror and whisper “I accept.” If done correctly, in the mirror, there will be a faint image of an infant with no flesh and pitch black eyes. He will stare directly into your soul and you will hear the buzzing of flies and nervous whispering.

You will not be able to make out the image in the mirror, but you will be filled with unspeakable terror. The infant will ask you five questions about events that have occured within your life. His voice will sound like the rubbing of sandpaper and will be devoid of all human emotion. For each question that you answer incorrectly, one of your five senses will be consumed and lost to you forever. For each question that is answered correctly, you will be able to recite the name of someone you know.

That person will be found dead the next morning with their flesh removed and their eyes missing.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>>72410537

i always liked this one.

LOOK A PICTURE OF IT.
>> Anonymous
You’re the manager for a small store. You hired one of your friends, and you just found out that he’s been stealing from the register, stealing stock, abandoning his post to visit with his girlfriend in the back room while he’s the only one on duty, and the argument you had with him at the office just didn’t settle it for you. You pound on his door. When he opens up, he goes pale, soils himself, and staggers back, gasping for breath.

It doesn’t impress you, really; you figure he just thinks you’re showing up with the cops, until you step through his door and glance to the side, where you get a good look at yourself in the mirror.

Or at least, the parts of you that are still recognizable after that shotgun blast that your friend gave you at the end of that argument…
>> Anonymous
>>72410615
It's not scary.
>> Anonymous
>>72411150

February 19 is my birthday. Creepy.
>> Rumblepakage !vhyf7KGUiA
>>72411201
I heard that when I was like 5
>> Anonymous
>>72411401

Poor attempt
>> Anonymous
>>72411201
Who the hell would honestly want to do that anyways?

All of these trades that you make are never being close to worth it in creepy stories
>> Anonymous
>>72410537


win
>> Anonymous
Gotta love some good ol' fashioned creepypasta

1/3

If you go into this one tiny, dingy one-story bar in Paris, and the right bartender is behind the counter that night, you might be able to see a very exclusive gallery show of the lost works of one Henri Beauchamp. But, to get in, you have to prove you're a devotee of the artist to get in.

You'll be asked, in clear and perfect English, "What would like to partake of this glorious night?". Answer absinthe, no matter what. Any other drink, from whiskey to water, will kill you as you sleep.

The next question will regard the type, and you MUST answer one of two things: "The stuff that Man himself could not bear to take," or, "The good stuff. The best stuff." If you ask for any other absinthe, in any other way, you will be plagued by nightmares for 13 days. Each night's dream will be more horrible than the last, until, upon the thirteenth dream, your nightmare will follow you, every moment of your waking and sleeping life. Don't try and cheat the barkeep: the door locked behind you. You have to drink what he gives you, doom or not. That such a powerful man granted you audience should be enough. Besides, I've heard that the dying complimented his drinks in their death throes.

If you make it that far before sealing your fate, the bartender will say, "Be sure you handle this with care; this is the finest I have." From here, you may do one of two things: Say, word for word, "I overestimated my fortitude, and I bid you good eve.". If the barkeep nods, you may leave the door you entered, unharmed and with nothing gained and nothing lost (except the time spent inside).
>> Anonymous
Yesterday, a friend of mine called me. It was a John, an old buddy from high school. I hadn’t spoken with him for years, and we started to reminisce about all the crap we pulled in high school. A few days later I decided to call him back, and see if we could get together, maybe go fishing or something.

We talked on the phone for a while, and I said to him “Hey, maybe we should get together sometime.” He first said that that was a bad idea, but then he agreed. I asked him for address, copied it down, and told him I’d see him in the morning.

The next morning I arrived at the place he said he lived at. There was nothing but rubble there. It looked like there had been a fire there years ago, but nothing got cleaned up, and the plants never regrew. In the middle of the rubble, I found a old rotary style telephone on the floor, not connected to anything. Hurriedly, I pulled out my cellphone and called his number.

The telephone on the floor rang.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

I dropped my cellphone in shock, and knelt to grab the rotary telephone. A voice, drenched in distortion and hiss, said:

“I told you this was a bad idea.”
>> Anonymous
You wake after a wild night of partying to find that while you were wasted, for some reason
you had a crude smiley face tattooed on your foot. You write it off as a lesson to never drink that much again. The next time you wake, however, you discover the face is now on your ankle, and it’s not as crudely drawn. The day after that, it’s on your lower leg, and it’s starting to look more like a drawing of a real face. As it continues to move up and become more realistic looking, you wonder what happens when it reaches your own face.
>> Anonymous
>>72411827
2/?

Or you can go on. You will be given a glass with a seven-sided rim, with each side twisting ever so delicately around the basin until forming a sleek and simple handle. You will also receive a very, very, very special absinthe spoon, in the shape of a key; the holes at the key's top serve as the draining point for the alcohol to pour over the sugar cube. And, of course, an unmarked bottle, stripped long ago of its label, scraps of paper sticking to its sides, covered in the rot of the decades past.

The spoon is completely flat, but has two distinct sides: one with a groove along the shaft of the key, and one without. Turn the shaft down, so its groove will be face down. If you attempt this face up, your absinthe will taste foul, your nose will burn, and your eyes will shrivel in their sockets with unspeakable horrors not of this world. Now, if your spoon is the right way up, begin preparing the absinthe as one would (put the sugar on the spoon, and pour the alcohol over so it gains its color and "special qualities").

Say "cheers" to your friend, the barkeep, and bottoms up. If you don't, the absinthe will burn every innard it touches with the power and pain of sulfuric acid.

If you've done it right, the already dim lights will go off, and darkness will consume the bar. Don't be afraid; the darkness is the cue that you've been approved for the exhibit. Wait out the darkness, and keep silent as the dead, lest the bartender decide to make you so.
>> Anonymous
>>72412191
3/7

Eventually (not too long, two to three minutes), a green floodlight will shine brightly on a door on the far wall of the bar. The bar will be bathed in green, and not just from the floodlight. Little luminescent spheres will gently drift through the room, and the barkeep will no longer be there... nor any other unassuming patron inside before. There's no danger by this point... consider it a safe point. If you didn't finish the absinthe, you don't have to, but you might need the alcohol. Either way, take the spoon and put it in the keyhole of the green-lit portal's doorknob. It will fit perfectly, and reach the end of the keyhole with a resounding click.

Inside is a small elevator, with the most beautiful woman any mortal eyes can imagine, bathed in the green glow in just such an angle that the light refracts beyond her into the shape of wings.

The Green Fairy herself will ask you, "Going up?”, and considering all the trouble you went through, it would only make sense to say yes.

Now, you have one more hurdle to clear. She will ask you, as you cross the line from the bar to the compartment, "How would you compare Beauchamp's surrealism to that of, say, Rene Magritte?" For your reply, you must say, "I've come to see more than art tonight."

If you don't, the green floodlight will blow out, the doors will slam shut, and the elevator will plummet through a seemingly infinite blackness before a rea light grows brighter as the elevator nears the very depths of Hell. Now, if your elevator begins to go up, the green light will also fade, but in its place will be the cool glow of the moon. But, before you even recognize it, the elevator will reach the top of its... well, let's call it a shaft to not get too intricate.
>> Anonymous
>>72412314

I meant 3/?


4/?

Now, I'm not as sure about this as the rest, but I've heard that, if the Green Fairy kisses you on the cheek as she leaves the elevator, you will always be blessed with a creative inspiration: a permanent, ever-changing muse. You can't ask her, you can't kiss her; she has to do it of her own volition. If not... well, nothing, but no reason to do it anyway and anger the woman who is responsible for keeping the Beauchamp paintings safe for so many years.

You will enter, from the elevator, a turn-of-the-century parlor, with a large poster of Henri Beauchamp on the left side of the opposite wall; on the right is a door.

Taking the time to read the poster is a fairly good idea, as it explains the very significance of Mr. Beauchamp. You see, he was a struggling surrealist in the 1920s, always making art to try to be free of all premeditation, and managed to do so. You see, after one night in a tiny, dingy one-story bar in Paris, he began to paint... patterns. First it was geometric patterns. Then complete fractals. Then images that would be in the newspaper the next day. Then next week. Then from fifty years ago. 100 in the future, 200 in the past...

Then, on his last night of life, he kidnapped three young girls from their homes at night, murdered them, and painted his finest masterpieces in reds and yellows with the blood and bile of virgins.

He committed suicide immediately after painting exactly 13 of these.

These are behind the door.

The first six, from the left, show, from left to right: the genesis of the universe, the only true visage of God as viewable to the eyes of man, the true image of Jesus Christ, the sprawling clouds of Heaven, every Pope from the first to faces not yet recognizable, and a portrait of Jesus' appearance in his Second Coming.
>> Anonymous
>>72412463

5/5

The other six, on the right, show, from right to left: the cataclysmic of the universe, the only true visage of Satan as viewable to the eyes of man, the true image of Judas, the sprawling flames of Hell, every human-embodied demon from the first to faces not yet recognizable, and a portrait of the Antichrist in his Second Coming.

Now, six and six makes twelve. But what of the thirteenth?

This thirteenth painting is turned around on its wall pin, the image facing the wall. The space around it is roped up at a very wide diameter, and under the flipped image is a sign, in three languages. The top is in the scriptures of the seraphim, the bottom in the runes of the highest demonic orders, and in the middle, in Roman letters.

DO

NOT

TOUCH

Now, like the kiss, I can't say this part with as much certainty, but all the same... I heard that, somehow, as he died, Beauchamp flayed his skin, his organs, his very soul, into some sort of collage. How he took his dead body and created such a horrific masterpiece, I could never say, nor would I ever dare to.

So... if you make it, maybe you can flip the canvas over and tell me sometime? You can tell me about it over a drink.

'Night, /b/.
>> Anonymous
>>72412463

STOP STOP STOP NOBODY CARES
>> Anonymous
>>72412105

I like.

Moar?
>> Anonymous
yeah,
but who was phone??
>> Anonymous
In Central Australia, there is an unremarkable service station along a straight and barren stretch of road. If you walk straight in and ask for the key, you will be given an unremarkable key attached to an unremarkable piece of wood. The key will unlock a door at the service station, leading to an impossibly long stepped corridor, dimly lit from an unseen source. If you follow these stairs, you will begin to hear hungry cries of birds of prey that grow louder as you descend. After an amount of time, the light will vanish, leaving you in the dark, and a rasping voice will ask for your desires. For each desire, you will experience all the sensations, unforgettable, branded into your memory, of bodily mutilation, of being torn asunder by impossible strength, of having an arm slowly flayed, each nerve individually pulled from your flesh. You may speak as many desires as your sanity can take. Then you must turn and return up the steps and never look back. Return the key and go about your life. Your desires will be granted, but you will always have to live with the memories given to you in that dark place.
>> Anonymous
There it goes again. Something definitely moved this time. It was very brief, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw something. But wait. All the doors are locked, no pets, and your parents won’t get home until 10. So there’s no way something moved. It’s just your imagination getting the best of you. Sitting alone in your room, the only light emitting from the monitor of your computer, you stare into the darkness for several minutes. Just to be sure. Now you feel silly. What were you thinking? Of course there’s nothing there. What, are you 6? Go back to what you were doing.

15 minutes later, as you prepare to go to bed, you’re in the bathroom. The shower curtains shift. Wait… no. Stop spooking yourself. It’s just an overactive imagination, filling your head with what isn’t really there. You gaze into the mirror at yourself. You say it to yourself, slowly and clearly, “Imagination.” With a sigh, you turn the lights off and head towards your room.

Laying in bed, you stare at your ceiling, dark and foreboding, only the motion of a small fan disturbing the calmness of the night. A shadow from the light in the hall shifts. No. No, no, no. Stop it. It’s your imagination. Just that. Go to sleep, you fool.

But then, just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, at the phase no one remembers when they wake, you sense something in the darkness. It’s your imagination, leering down at you. With a jagged, macabre smile.
>> Anonymous
If you stand alone at the corner of Church St. and Market St. in Charleston, South Carolina at 3 AM, you see a man coming down Church St. wearing a black hat and black cape with stringy white hair and weathered skin. He'll stop at one of the two corners directly across from where you are standing and start to walk the corner directly opposite from where he is standing. When he reaches about halfway (dead center of the intersection) and nobody else has arrived, he'll stop, turn, and look directly at you.

If you do not blink for roughly 20-30 seconds he'll tip his hat to you and walk along his way, disappearing into the dark shadows of the trees that line the streets. Nobody knows what happens if you follow him.

If you do blink before he tips his hat, the very first thing you will see is the man standing directly in front of you. He'll grin maliciously at you and draw a blade hidden in the shaft of the cane and slash you across your throat, but you will not feel a thing. You will, however, pass out and remain in a comatose state until the sun rises over the horizon.

For the next six nights, you will have a recurring dream of the man walking down the street, appearing suddenly before you, and slashing your throat. On the seventh night, the events will replay the same up until he stops in the middle of the intersection. At this point, he'll say, "It's been fun playing with you, boy, but now it's time for you to go. Don't ever let me see you again." He'll then tip his hat and walk away before you wake up.

Nobody knows what happens if you visit the corner a second time.
>> Rumblepakage !vhyf7KGUiA
>>72412843
Fritzl?
>> Anonymous
>>72406293
epic lul
>> Anonymous
>>72405605
creeped me out, no shit
>> Anonymous
Once, there was a boy who loved to read. He read everything he could get his hands on, and loved going to his favorite book store. One day, the boy realized he had read everything the store had to offer. He confronted the owner, and asked him if he had anything the boy had never checked out. The owner said why, yes, I do, and pulled out a book called “Death”. He gladly sold it to the boy at a discounted price of 50$.

However, he warned the boy, never to read the front page. Well, the boy returned to his house and read the book, and he was content. However, he always wondered, what could be on that front page, it was always in the back of his mind. One day, the temptation was too much for the boy, and he flipped to the very front of the book, and dropped the book in HORROR.

There, in bold print, was MSRP 7.99$
>> Rumblepakage !vhyf7KGUiA
>>72413538
Haha,little faggot.
>> 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 no one 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
Reply Internet Explorer 3 When using Internet Explorer 3 for Windows (google around for a version that works on Windows XP), enter this in the address bar (do not copy-paste, you must input it with the keyboard):
for-you://gratitude-and-remembrance

Wait ~ 40 seconds. You will feel strange. Don’t fight the feeling, or you will be jerked out of it, and you have only one chance to do this.

A weblog will appear. It will contain events that will happen for the seven next years of your life.

Add /admin/ to the address bar. Try to guess the password your future self would have chosen. There is always a way - discovering it is never out of your reach even if it’s a meaningless string of letters.

Once you have access to the admin, you can delete any post you want, and that event will never happen to you.

However, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES you are to edit a post. JUST DON’T.

You have only one hour to do it: after that the connection will be lost.
>> Anonymous
>>72410917
>>72410917
hahaha
>> Cpt. Spaff
You're sitting at your computer chair, casually browsing a creepy thread on /b/. You've had a few joints already, and you're rolling another. "Pass the green" you say to the guy sitting in the chair next to you. He passes the baggy without saying a word. You look at the baggy in your hand, slightly confused. You look to your left. There is nobody there. You shrug it off, you're imagining things. You finish rolling you're joint.
"Pretty good roll"
"Cheers mate, pass a light"
You take the lighter, then notice it feels wet. You look at it. There's a small amount of blood on the gas release. You look to the left again. There's still nobody there. Just an empty chair.
You carry on browsing /b/ as if nothing has happened. You feel a tap on your left shoulder.
"Here you are"
You take the joint from the left. You look back, and there he is, sitting there. Eyes blackened out, small amount of blood dripping from the left of his mouth. You jump wildly, dropping the unlit joint. You stare at the space where he just sat. There's nothing there....
You stare a the empty space, before picking up the rolled, unlit joint. you look at it and say to yourself 'What is this shit doing to my brain?'
"Dunno mate, but you wanna light that?"
The Walls are bloodied, and the chair is broken.
>> Anonymous
There is a moment each leap year, at exactly three minutes past three on the morning of February twenty-ninth. If you possess the courage, await that moment in darkened room, with no other present. At that moment, the darkness will deepen. If you were to hold you hand directly before your face, you would not see a thing. But you must not do so. No, for that would be to waste the moment. Instead you must reach out, into that impenetrable darkness.

And it will reach out to you.

An unseen hand will grasp yours. You must not flinch away, nor tighten your grasp. To do so will only slough away more of the decrepit flesh that covers it, and anger its unseen owner. Remain perfectly still, as the withered fingers move over your palm, tracing unknown patterns. Do not move an inch as it crawls slowly up your arm. And most of all, do not even breathe as it caresses your face, touching what cannot be seen.

Should you remain still through this, the hand will be withdrawn and a voice will speak, so close you can feel its breath on your face, smell the scent of decay it carries. It will ask you for one simple piece of information: your name. Answer truthfully. Answer truthfully, and the presence will retreat, leaving only a whisper in the air as the darkness lifts. “It is done.”

From that day on, untold good fortune will be yours, and mysterious power. You will lack nothing, and have everything. But in a year, perhaps two, you will feel your skin begin to decay, and smell the sweet smell of death upon your breath…
>> Anonymous
Get on any passenger bus that travels a long distance; Greyhound is usually a good pick. Anything that’s on the road for longer than 24 hours. Get a window seat facing west, then stare at the sun, waiting until sunset. Just before the sun touches the horizon, close your eyes. Hard. Do not turn away, don’t look at anything else. Cover your ears if you have to. After a while, you’ll notice that the bus has stopped moving. That’s the signal that you can open your eyes. When you do, you’ll see a gas station, illuminated only by a few flickering flourescent lights. There will be no sun, no moon, no stars in the sky. The convenience store will have its windows boarded up, but the sign will say ‘Open.’ If you feel you can’t go through with it, get back on the bus, return to your seat, and fall asleep. You’ll wake up at sunrise the next day, well on your way to wherever the bus was going. If you enter the store, the door will slam shut behind you. You will spend an unknown amount of time there, living out your worst nightmares made real. If you survive the ordeal without going mad, you will awake back on the bus, as it reaches its destination. Nothing will ever scare you again. Some say that after this ordeal, anything else simply pales in comparison. Others say that all that room contains, is all the fear you will ever feel in your entire life, and exposing yourself to it all at once keeps you from feeling any more. This, however, can only be done once. There are some exceptions to the ability, as well…
>> Anonymous
>>72412998
Nice, i was hoping this would get posted. Purely because the description of the location is nigh on identical to somewhere local to me.
>> Anonymous
>A corpse of a young buy was found
>a yound buy was found
>young buy
>buy
OH SHI-
>> Anonymous
In almost every building, there is one corner, one small enclosure that no one ever looks at. It’s the corner in the basement that has been blocked by a disused sofa for years; the thin space in the attic between the wall and the stacks and stacks of crates full of junk you never use, but could never throw away. The space that never sees the light of day, or any other kind of light at all. Where darkness does not merely dominate, but practically oozes out from around the edges of its prison.

No one knows quite how long a space must remain concealed for it to acquire this particular property, nor if there are any specific conditions it must meet. But it is a far more common occurrence than you might think.

In newer buildings, when this happens, the residents often report feeling cold when passing by, even in attics during the hottest of summers. Whenever contemplating taking a quick peek to see if there is anything actually there, an unnatural dread seizes them, and they leave the room quickly, if not quite running. Once left behind, the feeling passes, and it is quickly forgotten, or laughed off.

What actually happens in these forgotten sanctuaries of the dark? It is impossible to tell. For while many such corners have been exposed to reveal absolutely nothing, some brave souls have lost their sanity through nothing more than an ill-timed glance. The safest thing to do when encountered with such a phenomenon; close your eyes, rip away the area’s covering in a single motion, then keep a tight hold on what you’ve pulled away. No matter what you hear or feel, do not get up, do not look around, and do not try to cover your ears. You might be one of the lucky ones.
>> Anonymous
>>72414485

Try this.
video tape it
????
PROFIT!!!
>> gunman gnome
>>72414637
>>72413887
lul cpt. you got pwned
>> Cpt. Spaff
>>boy** Correction made
sorry
>> Anonymous
A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed.

The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to.

This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, “Did you look through the keyhole?” The man told her that he had and she said, “Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red.”
>> Anonymous
>>72414637
>>72415186

Samefag
>> Anonymous
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?
>> Anonymous
Driving home at night, you notice that all the lights in your house/apartment are on. As you park the car, they all turn off at the same time. The house is empty and the doors are locked from the inside.

You check your watch. The big hand is on the 4, the little hand is on the 1. You’ll be late for work.

At work, you find an email in your inbox. The sender is yourself. Puzzled, you open the e-mail you apparently sent to yourself. Inside is the message “the out for watch watch.”

You look at your watch. The little hand is on the 4, the big hand is on the 1. You look back at the screen. The fourth and first words have swapped places. “watch out for the watch.” You look at your watch again.

Your watch is digital
>> Anonymous
In 1971, in the tiny town of Whiting, Maine, a middle-aged man checking on his marijuana crop in the middle of his woods found five bodies hanging in close proximity. They hung from limbs of various height by ropes of various lengths so that all were eye level to a person of average height. All of them were upside-down, suspended by their ankles. Presumably to facilitate death by blood loss; as all of their eyes were torn out and lying on the ground below them.
They all hung facing roughly the same direction. Their faces and mouths all formed the same expression- not quite a scream- as if they had all died speaking the same word.
The local police were contacted, but careful examination showed no traces of homicide. Blood and eye fluid were found on all the victims' hands, along with occasional rope burns. The ankles were broken on those who hung from the higher limbs, revealing that they had gotten where they were by climbing out onto a limb, securing themselves, and dropping. Autopsies yielded no traces of mind-altering drugs; at least, that's what the doctor would tell you.
The man reported five bodies to the police. When they arrived at the scene they found four, plus a bit of burned rope. When the ambulance didn't make it to the morgue another officer dispatched to check on it found only three, along with a driver who held his own eyes in his hands and was calmly trying to replace those missing from the youngest corpse.
The truth of what happened once those three made it to the morgue is hard to discern, especially in the you just lost the game face of local rumors circulating just a few days later. The incident was quickly and quietly dismissed, for lack of evidence, as simple mass hysteria.
>> ???????????
There are seven words in every Gideon's Bible - y'know, the one they stuff in every hotel room - that can't be found in any other bible. If you repeat those seven words to yourself while grasping the doorknob to your room, the door will open to any hotel room in the world. Of course, if you want to control where you're going, you'll need to know the Gideon's Key - one more inserted word, unique to each copy, which acts as an index for each room.
>> Anonymous
>>72411257
That picture isn't really scary, at all.

Also, is that a TRUESTORY report of an object or something? What's the deal?
>> ???????????
A little known fact, is that the Eisenhower Interstate system is built over major leylines. Rumor has it, that if spesific conditions are met, weird phenomena will occur.

Phenomenon the first: Observed while driving westwards on I-80. Two occupants in car, middle of the night, no other cars around.

The first sign of this phenomenon is that you will lose ALL radio reception, and devices such as MP3 players, Discmen, tape decks and other music players will cease functioning. Your heater will begin to only dispense cold air, regardless of setting. after the first mile of this, you will notice a fog growing at the edges of the road, and you will see no exits, regardless of whether they were supposed to be there. if you continue on, you will begin to see the occasional pedestrian. Some of them will gesture that they would like to hitch a ride. Under no circumstances should you stop for them, no one has ever stopped and survived. If you see lights approaching from behind, and it is a hearse, do NOT let it pass you. no matter what. After 13 miles, the phenomenon will end, and you will be safe.
>> Anonymous
>>72415904
Of course it's not a true fucking story. Tool.
>> Anonymous
Why has no one posted this yet?

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.

To avoid disturbing the local community, police never released any information about the tape, or even the fact that it was found. Police were also not able to determine who put the tape in the well, or why the height and stature of the woman in the video didn't come close to matching the body they'd found in the oven.
>> Anonymous
>>72410537
need more
>> ???????????
If you watch every State of the Union Adress since it's been filmed and available on tape, you'll see that halfway through--exactly halfway through--the President always says the same word. Most say it under their breath during the standing ovations, but some are forced to work it into the speech itself.

What's the word? You don't want to know.
>> Anonymous
>>72413538

I lul'd.
>> Anonymous
>>72416463

Anon delivers!

Item #: SCP-051

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Item SCP-051 is to be secured to a wooden table at all times. Any personnel in the vicinity are to maintain complete silence. Personnel are not to make eye contact with SCP-051 for an extended amount of time.

Description: SCP-051 was placed under supervision of Site 34 on June 8, 1980. Origins unknown. Subject is a 4" by 5" black-toned, hand-painted ceramic mask. It is adorned with 24 karat gold and two lavender ribbons. SCP-051 reportedly speaks the name of any personnel in the vicinity (Note: This occurs regardless of whether subject's name has previously been mentioned in SCP-051's presence or not).

Personnel report a variety of "voices" after leaving object's presence. SCP-051 remains inanimate at these times; communication is assumed to be telepathic in nature. Personnel are not to acknowledge this communication in any way in the presence of the object. Doing so has resulted in immediate death by a variety of means (lack of airflow, internal hemorrhaging, bodily ejection of the heart, etc.).
>> ???????????
There is a demon of great evil, that will be able to walk upon the Earth if someone is told of its existence and does not repeat the name to another. To the best of my ability, his name roughly approximates "Jkqxxllyuo".

This was told to me by a rather unkempt man on the street; if you have not noticed it already, I just told it to you.
>> Anonymous
>>72407960
EPIC FKN FAIL
>> Anonymous
There is a demon of great evil, that will be able to walk upon the Earth if someone is told of its existence and does not repeat the name to another. To the best of my ability, his name roughly approximates "Jkqxxllyuo".

This was told to me by a rather unkempt man on the street; if you have not noticed it already, I just told it to you.

Oh SHI-
>> Anonymous
>>72416604

PENIS?
>> Anonymous
>>72415740

Fuck, I lost it.
>> ???????????
The next time you make a purchase, hand the clerk a $1 bill and ask her to make change. She will hand you back a number of coins, several of which bear the likenesses of long dead historical figures.
>> Anonymous
>>72415740

cunt nigger shit face
>> Anonymous
>>72417139

no....no....NO I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS!!!
>> ???????????
On the internet, there is a message board. Occasionally, someone will post a thread asking for generally creepy stories. These threads are usually long and contain a lot of entertaining reading.

However, occasionally someone will enter the thread and post only an 8-digit number that if read, will give you a specific recurring nightmare for three nights.

In this nightmare, you visited in your sleep by a man with a very curious smile. During these visits, he performs unspeakable acts. And repeats a phrase over and over again. This phrase is different each night.

At the end of these three nights, the events of one of the stories posted in the thread will happen to you.

It is said also that if you dial this 8-digit number into a payphone at exactly 2:30 AM, a voice with no discernable gender will answer and tell you all of the great secrets of eternity.
>> ???????????
If you call yourself on your own cellular phone, sometimes you will get an answer. You won't hear anything other than heavy breathing, so don't bother waiting for them to speak. If you then say the name of a person you know and a reason that they should die (reasons like "I just want them dead" do work, btw), then they will die a gruesome death within the next 24 hours. Their horribly mangled corpse will be completely unrecognizable, and there is never any evidence pointing to a specific perpetrator so the person(s) that performs this service has never been caught.
>> Anonymous
In the winter of 1944, with overtaxed supply lines in the Ardennes, a medic in the German army had completely run out of plasma, bandages and antiseptic. During one particularly bad round of mortar fire, his encampment was a bloodbath. Those who survived claimed to have heard, above the screams and barked commands of their Lieutenant, someone cackling with almost girlish glee.

The medic had made his rounds during the fire, in almost complete darkness as he had so many times before, but never had he been this short on supplies. No matter. He would do his duty. He had always prided himself on his resourcefulness.

The bombardment moved to other ends of the line, and most men dropped off to sleep in the dark, still hours of the morning - New Year's Day, 1945. The men awoke at first light with screams. They discovered that their bandages were not typical bandages at all, but hunks and strips of human flesh. Several men had been given fresh blood transfusions, yet there had been no blood supplies available. Each treated man was almost completely covered, head-to-toe, with the maroon stain of blood.

The medic was found, sitting on an ammunition tin, staring off into space. When one man approached him, and tapped him on the shoulder, his tunic fell off to reveal that large patches of his skin, muscle, and sinew had been stripped from his torso and his body was almost completely dried of blood. In one hand was a scalpel, and in the other, a blood transfusion vial. None of the men treated for wounds that night, in that camp, saw the end of January, 1945.
>> ???????????
Rumor has it that every halloween during the hours of 2am and 5am, there exists a void. You must stand in front of a mirror in a pitch black room with your gaze fixated on the mirror. If you remain in the room when the moment arrives, you will feel a chill seize your body. Place your right hand on the mirror and whisper "I accept." If done correctly, in the mirror there will be a faint image of a fleshless infant with pitch black eyes. He will stare directly into your soul and you will hear the buzzing of flies and nervous whispering. You will not be able to make out the image in the mirror but you will be filled with unspeakable terror. The infant will ask you five questions about events that have occurred within your life. His voice will sound like the rubbing of sandpaper and will be devoid of all emotion. For each question that you answer incorrectly, one of your five senses will be consumed. For each question that is answered correctly, you will be able to recite the name of someone you know. That person will be found dead the next morning, after a night of unimagninable horror, with their flesh removed and their eyes missing.
>> Anonymous
There is a demon of great evil, that will be able to walk upon the Earth if someone is told of its existence and does not repeat the name to another. To the best of my ability, his name roughly approximates "Jkqxxllyuo".

This was told to me by a rather unkempt man on the street; if you have not noticed it already, I just told it to you.
>> Anonymous
Holder of the End

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the End". Should a look of child-like fear come over the workers face, you will then be taken to a cell in the building. It will be in a deep hidden section of the building. All you will hear is the sound of someone talking to themselves echo the halls. It is in a language that you will not understand, but your very soul will feel unspeakable fear.

Should the talking stop at any time, STOP and QUICKLY say aloud "I'm just passing through, I wish to talk." If you still hear silence, flee. Leave, do not stop for anything, do not go home, don't stay at an inn, just keep moving, and sleep where your body drops. You will know in the morning if you've escaped.

If the voice in the hall comes back after you utter those words continue on. Upon reaching the cell all you will see is a windowless room with a person in the corner, speaking an unknown language, and cradling something. The person will only respond to one question. "What happens when they all come together?"

The person will then stare into your eyes and answer your question in horrifying detail. Many go mad in that very cell, some disappear soon after the meeting, and a few end their lives. But most do the worst thing, and look upon the object in the person's hands. You will want to as well. Be warned that if you do, your death will be one of cruelty and unrelenting horror.

Your death will be in that room, by that person's hands.

That object is 1 of 538. They must never come together. Never.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>>72410537
>> Anonymous
83122859
>> ­­
So you get home from work and you look at watch. it is 6am. you realise might be late for work, so you get in car are run to work. when you get to work are very tired from running so much and so you eat your poptarts then get in the car for the long drive home. you look at your watch realise that it is 6am. "that weird" you thinks. so you get out of your car, and walk into the working. you notice that your desk has turned into a clown that laughing at me. you. you run home and find your desk in your car.

THEN WHO WAS CLOWN?
>> ???????????
Yellowstone is the second largest volcano on earth. An eruption from it would be large enough to drive the human species to extinction by blocking the sun out for 30 some odd years, while coting most of northamerica in ash.

Yellowstone erupts on an average every 600,000 years

It has been 640,000 years since the last eruption.

The ground of yellowstone has swollen over 25 centimeters since 1915

Old faithful's regular eruption has already been offset by seconds. It is only a matter of time before Yellowstone erupts and potentially kills off the entire human race.
>> ­­
>>72418361

rofl epic
>> Anonymous
>>72410712

HAHHAHA :D:D

This must be the best paint ever :D
>> Anonymous
>>72418169

A while back i got really into that series... WAY TOO into that series as a matter of fact. I posted two pages.

http://theholders.org/?The_Holder_of_Lore
http://theholders.org/?Holder_of_Gore
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls herself "The Holder of the Beginning". A small smile will work its way over the persons mouth, almost seeming to say, "You fool.”

You will be taken down a hallway, seemingly leading out into a place it shouldn't. This place will seem to exist nowhere in the institution, but it will. The hall will be silent, even if you try to make noise. Screams will die before leaving your mouth, footsteps will be muffled. Your guide will simply point to the door.

If you enter, you will find a cozy room, full of a pleasant, though unidentifiable, perfume. There will be a pretty lady sitting, holding nothing. No sounds will be made in this room, no matter how hard you try, except for one question. "Why were they separated?" The lady will then explain, in detail, the reason. It will be every horrific event in history, every beating, every war, and every rape. Everything. Then, all will fall silent. It is up to you to do what you will with this information. That lady is Object 2 of 538. It is up to you if they should be joined or not.
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of Eternity". A sigh might escape the worker as they look upon you with the utmost pity. They will take you down a flight of stairs into what should be the basement of the building, and yet isn't.

As you press deeper and deeper into this under layer of the institution a chorus of screams will begin to be audible. Softly at first, as if from a great distance, but the closer you get to the end of the hallway, the louder it becomes until it drones so loud that it seems to consume all other noises, until you begin to claw at your own ears in pain. The worker will show you a door, covering both their ears. As swift as they can, they will unlock the door and run, leaving only you in this cramped, dark hallway.

This is your last chance to run. If you decide to continue, and open the door then the piercing wail will end abruptly, leaving your ears ringing. The room is coated in an almost tangible, all-consuming darkness but for the far end of the room. There, manacled to the wall is an emaciated figure, covered in raw lashes. He stares directly at you, with a grin plastered to his face despite festering wounds and a scalpel still half-protruding from his chest. Now is your only chance to save yourself, and the only way is to ask "Who created them?”

He will cackle, in a manner befitting the death throes of an animal before responding. His tale will be the most horrific tale you have ever heard, beyond such primitive concepts such as pain and death, into the very essence of wrong. Of evil.

It is up to you to end this man's life, to release his terrible burden. Remove the scalpel, and he will shudder once in agony before falling silent forever.

>> Anonymous
A teenage girl was home alone while her parents went out for dinner one night. She had never been home alone before, but since she had turned 13 her parents decided that she could handle it. A fierce storm arose that night and the girl started feeling paranoid. The only other thing in the house was her small dog. The night was pitch black and the thunder and lightning were loud and crashing. She began to get very nervous and went to bed with her dog laying on the floor besides her. She awoke a half hour later to the sound of water dripping in her bathroom. She put her hand over the side of the bed and felt her dog's reassuring lick. She knew that if anything was wrong the dog would let her know. The dripping sound grew louder and faster and again she put her hand down for the dog to lick. The dripping eventually became so loud that she got up and went to the bathroom to fix the faucet. When she got there, she saw that there was no water dripping in the sink. The bathroom smelled horrible. She pulled back the shower curtain and found her little dog skinned alive and hanging from the shower head, its blood dripping into the tub below. Written in blood on the shower wall were the words: "Humans can lick, too"
>> Anonymous
Do not look on the wall behind you.

IT does not like being seen.
>> Anonymous
There is a demon of great evil, that will be able to walk upon the Earth if someone is told of its existence and does not repeat the name to another. To the best of my ability, his name roughly approximates "Jkqxxllyuo".

This was told to me by a rather unkempt man on the street; if you have not noticed it already, I just told it to you.
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of Nothing". Should a look of sheer, primal disgust mar the workers expression, you will then be taken to a separate building, which appears to be an old, wooden outhouse. Inside will be a seemingly endless corridor far, far longer than the length of the outhouse.

There will be no sound in the corridor. Attempting to make any at the wrong time is a grievous, grievous mistake. You will notice the lights in the corridor get brighter and brighter as you make your way down towards the end, becoming nearly blinding. If at any point the lights go out, QUICKLY shout out "No! Stop! What you are doing is wrong!" while backing away. If the lights do not come back on, bolt for the door you came in through. It should still be open and hopefully you aren't far enough down the hallway for them to close it on you. If they manage to close it, hell itself would be preferable to what you will suffer.
>> Anonymous
>>72419714

If the lights come back on, return to walking forward down the corridor. Upon reaching the cell, the worker will open the door for you while glaring at you in disgust. Inside the cell will be a mad pastiche of colors, arranged in several harlequin-like formations. You must not be distracted by them; for at the center of a room is a naked young woman, slathered in blood and bound by strips of human sinew. If you take your eyes off her even for a moment, she will destroy you utterly. She will only respond to one question. "What were they when they were one?"

She will then stare into your eyes, and speak the answer in incredible detail. It will be unlike anything you have ever heard and you will be on the verge of both ecstasy and agony at her mere words. It is not uncommon for most to lose themselves in the euphoria. The worst thing you can do, however, is look upon the tattoo on her chest. It will pull at your mind to gaze upon it, but you mustn't. If you do, you will be hers.

She will flay you alive and add your mutilated flesh to her bindings, and you will remain trapped with her, fully conscious, for the rest of time.

That tattoo is object 4 of 538. They desire to be one again. But they mustn't.
>> ???????????
You've heard some of the crazy things the US soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan have been finding, right? Like, stuff from the palaces, stuff in old caves, stuff in bunkers, like golden swords, big honkin' vases, expensive jewelry, thousand year old lamps and stuff?

They found something big, just recently.

Some marines were poking around in an old cave, and they found this chest, and in it was a collection of remarkably preserved scrolls written on what seemed to be flesh.

Who here is familiar with the works of Abdul Alhazred?

Yep. They found a genuine first edition copy of his number-one best seller, Al Azif.

You might know it better as the Necronomicon.
>> Anonymous
>>72419714

Do not... I repeat DO NOT do that!
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, close your eyes and ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of Light”. You will be guided to a single door leading to a long winding hallway. You will be told to open your eyes. The hallway will be complete darkness, narrow enough only for you to feel the walls and navigate yourself forward.

If at any moment along the way the lights should come on, shut your eyes immediately and quickly make your way back to the door you came in. If your eyes stay open for more than a second, what you see will force you to instinctively tear them out.

If the lights stay off however, you will make your way to the end of the hall and another door. If there is a light from under the door leave immediately, what you came for is not there. If there is no light from under the door, carefully turn the handle and enter.

The room will be completely dark, aside from the lone candle in the center. What little light it brings reveals an outline of a cloak hovered over it. The man underneath the cloak is completely still. If you say anything, the man will tear out your eyes and devour your soul, and you will be forced to take his place under the cloak for the rest of eternity. There is only one question that the man will respond to, “What can protect us from them?”
>> Anonymous
>>72419954


If you proceed to ask this question, a piercing scream will ring out from the candle and a series of lights will illuminate the room, revealing the images of the most horrifying thoughts, fantasies and memories from all consciousness throughout history. Most people cannot handle this event, and will go insane or die instantly. However, if you should somehow manage to survive this, the man in the center of the room will rise slowly and put his hands to your head. You will be forced to look at his face. His face appears young, with the exception of two large cavities where his eyes once where. At this point you must not look away or you will be forever forgotten in time. He will then open your hand and place a small, round object into your right hand. You will be left feeling no pain, but the horrifying images will be burned into your memory for all eternity.

The eye you hold in your hand is object 5 of 538. The awakening has begun; they must not be brought together.
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit "The Holder of Song”. You will be guided to a single door leading to a long winding staircase. It will seem to take you up higher than the building should stand. There will be a door at the top of the stairway that opens into a dim hall.

Heat will wash over you. Proceed down the hall, and at one point, it will suddenly get much colder. When this happens, you must stand perfectly still and make no sound. If you hear a baby crying, turn around and run away. The baby's cry will follow you. If you hear it for the rest of your life, you're lucky, for when it stops, your first-born child has died.

If there is no cry and the heat returns, proceed to the door at the end of the hall. Open it.
>> Malthus
     File :-(, x)
marvel anonymous?
>> Anonymous
.>>72420060

The room will be awash in green light. In the center will be an old woman turning a music box that produces no sound. Her legs have both been severed at the knees. When you speak to her, you must look her in the eyes. She hides a spear fashioned from the bones of her legs, and if you break eye contact, she will impale you and leave you in agony to bleed to death. She will respond to only one question. Ask her, "What was the song they used to play?"

The old woman will begin singing. The song is in a different language, but the melody is beautiful; serenity will wash over you. You will be presented with the image of children playing and singing. Things will turn grimmer. The children will begin fighting, then killing, then disemboweling each other with sharp rocks. The image will continue of children spreading death and destruction more horrific than you could ever have dreamt. But still, you will remain calm and peaceful. You will see a naked boy drenched in blood, singing with delight as he runs through a hellish wasteland, pursued by unspeakable monsters. They find him, and mutilate him utterly. Still, the song will continue from his dead lips.

An intense pain will stab at your chest. Your heart will feel like it is about to explode. But still, you must not break eye-contact with the old woman; if you do, an exploding heart would become your happiest dream. If you don't shift your gaze, the pain will cease. The woman will stand up (you will know not how) and place the music box in your hands.

The music box is object 6 of 538. When its song plays again, they will all come together.
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the Path". The worker will try his best to keep a look of indifference while handing you a key, which he explains belongs to an unused supply closet in the building. If only it were that simple. Upon locating and unlocking the door you will find a narrow and winding road suspended in an endless void; only occasionally disrupted by the massive outlines of things best left unsaid.

To fall off the path is to be thrown out of reality itself. A nightmarish eternity of unconceivable horror awaits anyone who either stumbles into the void by their own error, or is dragged off the path by the timeless monstrosities that reside on the outskirts of creation. If you should ever feel as if you are being watched while traveling through this piece of oblivion, the best chance you have is to immediately freeze in place and hold your breath. Continue to do so until either your audience loses interest and moves on or moves in to claim you. If the latter, feel free to scream as hard as you want.

Eventually the path will end at a door, and upon opening it you will find a small, dirt-caked room. Propped up against the far wall will be a heavily emaciated corpse, with what‘s left of it‘s skin long since blackened with necrosis. There will be nothing else unusual about it unless you approach it and ask one question: "How did they acquire guardians?"
>> Anonymous
THE MOM WAS PHONE YOU IDIOTS
>> Anonymous
>>72415734

Shitest story ever
>> Anonymous
>>72420348

If said line is spoken, the “corpse” will begin to stir. A subtle red glow will come from its eye sockets as it lifts its head and begins to whisper the long and macabre history of the holders. It will speak of unholy pacts and unspeakable atrocities. Within time its tale will touch upon every form of evil known to man or God, and then a few more. Furthermore, if given the title of any holder, it will reveal its history and the meaning of the object that it protects.

Well, almost any holder. You see, it will never go into detail about itself. This is because the ghoul hopes that its visitor will not question why it seems to be lacking an object. In truth is that its piece was somehow sealed inside the creature’s skull, and the ominous light in its eye sockets is actually that of the object’s shining through.

That object is 7 of 538. And its holder will do anything to keep you away from it.
>> Anonymous
FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS FUCK OFF WITH THE HOLDERS
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of Wealth." The worker will raise one eyebrow. Ask a second time, and the worker will shrug and take you across the street, where an opulent mansion awaits.

The mansion was not there before, but do not preoccupy yourself with the mansion's origin. Its owner would rather not scare you away.

Inside the front door, there is a grand staircase, spiraling up across the foyer. The walls are covered with fine paintings, and a large marble statue rests on a pedestal by the base of the stairs. The statue's eldritch features evoke an image of a truly horrific beast, a creature at once both alien and evil. Admire it all you want, but don't touch it. Touching it will wake it, and it hasn't eaten in a while.

Ascend the staircase. As long as you touch nothing, you are in no danger. Don't panic. At the top of the stairs is a small, unassuming wooden door. It will open for you, if you are not afraid.
>> ???????????
In almost every building, there is one corner, one small enclosure

that no one ever looks at. It's the corner in the basement that has

been blocked by a disused sofa for years; the thin space in the

attic between the wall and the stacks and stacks of crates full of

junk you never use, but could never throw away. The space that never

sees the light of day, or any other kind of light at all. Where

darkness does not merely dominate, but practically oozes out from

around the edges of its prison.

No one knows quite how long a space must remain concealed for it to

acquire this particular property, nor if there are any specific

conditions it must meet. But it is a far more common occurrence than

you might think.

In newer buildings, when this happens, the residents often report

feeling cold when passing by, even in attics during the hottest of

summers. Whenever contemplating taking a quick peek to see if there

is anything actually there, an unnatural dread seizes them, and they

leave the room quickly, if not quite running. Once left behind, the

feeling passes, and it is quickly forgotten, or laughed off.

What actually happens in these forgotten sanctuaries of the dark? It

is impossible to tell. For while many such corners have been exposed

to reveal absolutely nothing, some brave souls have lost their

sanity through nothing more than an ill-timed glance. The safest

thing to do when encountered with such a phenomenon; close your

eyes, rip away the area's covering in a single motion, then keep a

tight hold on what you've pulled away. No matter what you hear or

feel, do not get up, do not look around, and do not try to cover

your ears. You might be one of the lucky ones.
>> Anonymous
>>72420543

Standing there, behind a large desk of what appears to be mahogany, there stands a man with a pointed goatee and short, cropped, gelled hair. He wears a suit that at once appears to be made of human flesh and Italian silk. He may speak, and at great length. He will talk about his amazingly beautiful house, and the lovely statue of his concubine resting downstairs. Do not interrupt him, and do not answer any questions he may ask. When he is finished, steel yourself, and confidently ask, "May I have my salary?"

He will proceed to explain to you, in great detail, the value of life. He will talk of things worse than death, and he will tell you exactly what he expects you do to do. The fabulous interior of the room will rot away, and the floor will turn from French weave to feces. His own appearance will become unimaginably cyclopean and ungodly. He will then fish out a small bank note from the inside of his human suit and hand it to you.

That note is object 8 of 538. Its holder is counting on you to spend it.
>> Anonymous
>>72420060
Stop posting these, they're getting boring.
>> Anonymous
>>72407646

no john you are the demons


fucking priceless
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of Wisdom." The worker will chuckle and you will be guided to an empty room. The worker will hand you a key and tell you to wait some time in the room until you hear a bell ring. Then you have to lock the door, wait until a second ring and unlock it.

It will open all by itself and reveal a long hallway, with all colors you may or may not know painted onto the walls, ceiling and floor. Follow the hallway until you hear a little girl singing. Stop, close your eyes and stay where you are until the girl finishes the song, even if you think that it will drive you mad. If you do move, run. Run back to the door where you came from, as fast as you can. Jump through the window of the room where you waited before and you might live. Should you be unable to reach the window in time, a horrible creature will drag you back into the hallway where you will die a death that is as horrible as the creature that caught you.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
"There was a family that lived here before you," recalled Mark's new neighbor, "they were a creepy lot."

Mark and his family had just moved to a new neighborhood and decided to get to know the neighbors. He was never one for scary stories, but he humored his new friend. The old man continued, his breath smelling of tobacco

"Many people would enter that house. Very few would ever leave." said the old man, speaking around his pipe. "Sure, rumors flew around the neighborhood. The neighborhood kids were convinced they were wallpapering with skin and weaving human hair into rugs."

The man pondered this, "Of course, nobody knew what was actually going on and, frankly, none of us would have been too surprised if this's what was going on in that hell house."

"Now, I'm sure they weren't that bad." said Mark

The man stared at him coldly, unamused.

"It was 12 years just a few weeks ago that my Belinda, God rest her soul, entered that damned house. She said we were all insane. Said we were being dramatic. Said she was going to prove to us all that they were perfectly nice people. She always was an optimist."

"They killed her?" asked Mark, concerned.

The man stared at the ceiling.

"I can't very well say what they did. Maybe they killed her. If she was lucky. There's no saying what that kind of family would do to her."
"What kind of family? What kind of family were these people?" asked Mark, scared for the safety of his family and his neighborhood.

The old man took a puff from his pipe, looked into mark's eyes, staring deep into his very soul
"niggers"
>> Anonymous
>>72420741

If you do not move and the song ceased, you are free to turn around and leave forever, or walk deeper into the hallway, until you reach a door in the shape of a human. Open this door with the same key that was given to you earlier, walk inside and close it behind you. In the middle of the room you will see a desk with a bright candle and behind the desk will sit a man, with his face hidden by the shine of the candle. Walk closer, but always keep the flame between you and the man's face, for you will surely feel the urge to empty your stomach should you witness how he looks like.

Stop when you are five steps away from the desk. The man will raise his hand and gesture you to come closer, but do not step any further than this. Close your eyes and ask him one question, nothing else. "Who will bring them back together?" You will hear the man rising from his chair and he will begin to pray. It will be a language you will not understand at first, but after two minutes, you will hear a name. Should you hear 'Anubis', then pray that your death will come quickly. If it is 'Thor' you hear, you may open your eyes. The man's head will be on the desk, cut off of the body, but still talking. After another three minutes, he will stop and begin to tell you how you will die. He will describe every tiny detail of your horrible death, and you will be unable to move. He will also describe who kill you and why he does it.

Finally, the man will stop talking. His head is object 9 of 538. It is up to you what you do with the knowledge of your death, for it now is inevitable.
>> Anonymous
>>72420629

NO

MORE

HOLDERS
please
>> Anonymous
>>72419689

fuck you anon!, there is an open window in my room!
>> ­­
You are running away from the horror when you stumble upon a figure in the dark. you look at your watch, it is 4pm. then why is it dark? you arent in kansas anymore...
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of forbidden Tongues". The worker should bow before you, and then give you an urn. Now walk into an empty place inside the institute, preferably an unused supply closet. There, where nobody is watching you, open the urn and look into it.

Raise your head again. You should find yourself on a wooden stairway that leads downwards into a corridor. Go down the stairs, as there is no turning back now. After a while, you will hear something that sounds like a chorus, sung by monks, speaking a foreign language. Immediately cover your ears with your hands. If you hear too many words, a hideous creature will haunt you for the rest of your mortal existence. As soon as you reach a door, the chorus should stop. If it doesn't, quickly turn around and shout "TACITE!"- This is the Latin Word for "Silence". Now the chorus should stop at last; if it doesn't, pray to every god you have ever heard of for a quick death, and hope they listen, for if they don't, the singing will grow louder and louder until it drives your soul insane.
>> Anonymous
73829013
>> Anonymous
>>72420935

Step through the door. Inside a person is waiting for you. A masked monk in a red cloak. He will greet you in Latin with "Salve!” Do not say anything and wait a few seconds until he puts on the light. There will be inscriptions on the walls, on the floor and on the furniture. The Monk will stand at the wall on the other end of the room and wait for your question. Don't try to read the words on the Walls. If you do, you will, within seconds, go insane. Walk to him and ask him only one question. "In which language were they talking?" That and nothing else. He will then hand you a book and disappear. Do not open the book. If you do, you will release horrible demons that will torture you for an eternity. After you got the book, turn around and there should be two urns on the table. One will take you back to the place you call home. The other one will drag your soul into pitch darkness.

It’s up to you if you pick the right one or not.

The Book is Object 10 of 538. Do not dare to ever read it.
>> ­­
>>72420920
>>72418361
>>72420920
>>72418361
>>72420920
>>72418361
>>72420920
>>72418361
>>72420920
>>72418361
>>72420920
>>72418361
>>72420920
>>72418361

/thread
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the Life". The worker will try to suppress a groan and you will have to ask again. He will then lead you to an operating room that looks just like any other you might or might not have seen in your life. The worker will give you a scalpel and then leave you alone in the room, locking the door behind him.

You will have to wait. Wait for almost an hour. Then the door will open and several people will enter the room, including a pregnant woman. The woman will lie down on the operating table; the other people, who will look like doctors, will prepare everything for the child's birth. While they do that, you will be able to ask the woman one question. Ask "How can they be reassembled?” nothing else, or the doctors will begin to skin and disassemble you. You will be fully conscious while they do this.
>> ???????????
When you live in a bright place, you get used to light, and it

starts affecting you less. When you live in a dark place, you get

used to dark, and it starts affecting you less. When you live in a

violent place, you get used to violence, and it starts affecting you

less.

And when you skydive enough, you get used to gravity, and it starts

affecting you less.

This is nowhere near as pleasant as it sounds.
>> Anonymous
>>72421119
If you have asked the right question, the woman will begin to scream, the child is about to be born. You will have to wait until it's over, and one of the doctors will give you the child, moving his mouth, but without sound coming from his lips. As soon as he finishes 'talking' and smiles, you will have to throw the child to the ground and ram the scalpel into its head, else it will smash your rib-cage and rip your heart out with inhuman strength.

If you have thrown the child to the ground in time, it will, despite the scalpel in its head, answer the question you have asked earlier. It will speak with a demonic voice that might drive you mad. While it is talking, the other people in the room will vanish without leaving a trace. After the child finishes talking, it will simply die and the door of the room will unlock. You are now free to go, if you have not been driven mad by the voice.

The dead baby is object 11 of 538. Dare you not remove the scalpel?
>> Anonymous
The Doctor Who episode Blink. It's about demons disguised as stone statues that can only move if nothing sees them.
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of Death". The worker's face will turn white as if he just saw a ghost. He will then guide you to a wooden door and leave you afterwards. You will have to knock thrice.

Should you hear an old man saying "Come.", you may enter and will find yourself in a forest. If you hear a young man saying "No, thank you.” run. Run and leave the city, the country as fast as you can, for unspoken evil will haunt you, should you stay.

Now that you are in a forest, look up to the sky. If it is day, follow the sun. If it is night, follow the moon. Follow them, and do not leave the path you have taken, no matter what kinds of beauty or horror you might see. Should you ever leave the path; your soul will be tormented for eternity after the body has died a horrible death. You will, after some time, notice that you are walking to a mansion. Ignore it; keep walking, for it is an illusion made to confuse you.
>> Anonymous
>>72421285

Finally, you will reach a small wooden hut. Enter the hut and immediately turn around, should you desire to over live the sheer horror you will experience by looking at the man who now is behind you. Ask him a question. "What will end them?" He will begin to talk with a voice that is gentle and kind as well as brutal and deadly. Listen carefully to what he says, as you might soon be the only one knowing their destiny. As soon as the man finishes his small tale, he will ask you to turn around, as he wants to give you a gift.

Do not do this. Instead, walk backwards until you reach something hard, a desk. Close your eyes and partially turn your body so you can reach out to the man and take the gift. When it touched your hand, close it and walk back to the door you came from. As you open it, say the words "We will meet another day" and walk out. You will be back in the mental institution.

Now, open your hand and look at the gift. The bone-finger is object 12 of 538.
>> Anonymous
>>72413887
A young Buy????

WHO WAS PHONE?!?!?!
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself --

ah fuck it cant be arsed with this holders business anymore
>> Anonymous
>>72421371

Stop posting them they are shit.
>> ???????????
Once, when my father was a young man, he was driving home late one night from work. It was along a New Jersey stretch of road. Passing by a bridge, he glanced over, and saw what appeared to be an old man, dressed in clothing that would have been in the height of fashion in the 1800s, walking along the side of the road.

He brushed it off, thinking he was imagining things. He was driving past a second bridge, and saw the old man again. He was about to drive past the third bridge, when he looked over again, expecting to see the old man outside, on the road.

He was sitting next to him, in the passenger seat.

Years later, when he was working for an electrical company, he was sent to an old farm, the same he had passed years before. One of the men on his crew steadfastly refused to get out of the truck, claiming to see a dog. There were no dogs there, hadn't been for years. But looking at the mud, there were dog prints--freshly made--there, slowly fading away till they dissapeared completely.
>> Anonymous
>>72416817
>>72417073
>>72418123
>>72419708

fags
>> Anonymous
at the very fucking least skip to #538 because goddamn.
>> Anonymous
>>72415734
Lol wut?
>> Anonymous
>>72421741

There arent 538.
>> Anonymous
>>72422045
balls
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
>>72419062

fail
>> Anonymous
>>72422164

where the fuck are they then? theholders.org only goes up to 128 or something
>> Anonymous
driving home, u realise ur phone is late for work

THEN WHO WAS DESK?
>> Anonymous
>>72407550
that was in a scary stories book I saw a while ago for kids.
>> Anonymous
An elderly man was sitting alone on a dark path. He wasn't certain of which direction to go, and he'd forgotten both where he was traveling to and who he was. He'd sat down for a moment to rest his weary legs, and suddenly looked up to see an elderly woman before him. She grinned toothlessly and with a cackle, spoke: "Now your *third* wish. What will it be?"
"Third wish?" The man was baffled. "How can it be a third wish if I haven't had a first and second wish?"
"You've had two wishes already," the hag said, "but your second wish was for me to return everything to the way it was before you had made your first wish. That's why you remember nothing; because everything is the way it was before you made any wishes." She cackled at the poor man. "So it is that you have one wish left."
"All right," he said, "I don't believe this, but there's no harm in wishing. I wish to know who I am."
"Funny," said the old woman as she granted his wish and disappeared forever. "That was your first wish.
>> Anonymous
one day your out sucking your boyfriends dick when out of nowhere a nigger jumps through the window and shoots your bf in the head, so you run and grab your gat and chase after that black motherfucker, your running through the streets shooting at the dude while he is shooting at you untill you get to the beach and the negro flees into the sewer system...its cold and damp and smells of shit well all of a sudden you get slapped by a giantPENIS....your in the layer of 4chan and the gods are unhappy with your discovery. so they send you back in time to the age of dinosaurs, luckily you had your ipod and your cell phone and shit so you give your shit to the dinosaurs and thats where those THIS IS AWESOME pictures come from....thank black people for those pictures. yeah
>> Anonymous
bump for great creepiness
>> Anonymous
>>72415740
i hate you so much.
>> Anonymous
I'm watching you, Lauren.
>> DE SU
WHEN I WAS A YOUNG BOY
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
This website is filth! Let's clean it up!

This post brought to you by Dial Soap
>> Multi parter ™
So early in the morning, and yet, you're nearly awake. Sleep had overtaken you, and slowly lost its grasp. Unfortunate though it may be, you couldn't even say you're completely awake, as the fog in your eyes is completely unusual, you've been asleep in your bed in your parents' house for the last 4 hours. In fact, things are strangely fuzzy, save for what you're directly focusing on. The only colors seen are white, black, and varying shades of which in between.

A feeling of dread fills you, and for no good reason. 13 years old isn't an age to fear much. The feeling of dread is just in your mind, no need to substantiate it, just go back to bed.

Trying to fall completely back to sleep again, you close your eyes and pull a pillow over your eyes, to hide from the waking. Just before the pillow covers your eyes, you catch a glimpse of your alarm clock, reading 3:57am. Dad will be up soon, and you can be safe from your own mind. Lord knows, you should still be asleep, and lord willing, it'll be a few short minutes before you're asleep yet again.

A relaxed sigh excapes your lips as the pillow covers your eyes, halfway back to sleep you are now. Ah relaxation, even with only 3 hours or so left to sleep, they'll more than likely be the best of the night. Three more minutes, and your fears can fade, as dad will be awake to protect you from your manufactured dread.
>> Multi parter ™
Just as sleep nearly comes again, it flees, startled by the slow dragging noise that startles you now. Again you rest on one elbow, and stare down the hallway, out of your door. The darkness is amazing, in fact, it's almost a sort of gradient. The darkness is completely black in the hallway, especially at the end, and grays out near the stairs leading downstairs at the end of the hallway.

Glancing at your alarm clock, it's now 4:01am and your dad is surely awake, in fact if he's just now getting up, he's late, 4:00am always even on weekends is when he rises. Your fear melts a bit as you continue staring down the hallway.

You see a silhouette slowly moving up the last few steps of the stairway at the end of the hallway. DAD! you think, ah you're safe, soon he'll be there to close the door you forgot to and leave you to your peaceful dreams.

Dad is moving slowly, in fact more slowly than you've ever seen a human being move. The silhouette, if it's dad [not so sure now] is very vaguely white, it appears to be obscured by a slow swirling grayness. Nevermind it though, it's just your mind playing tricks on you.

You sit up fully in bed, still somewhat half asleep. Not so sure at all that it's your dad, but regardless the shadow/silhouette keeps moving up the stairs. The end of the hallway seems so far away now, maybe that's why you're so convinced the silhouette is moving slowly.
>> Anonymous
>>72424007
MY FATHER TOOK ME INTO THE CITY
>> Multi parter ™
'Dad' has reached the top of the stairs now and is completely motionless, facing away from you. Taking half a step forward for balance, it reaches inside the closed door of the double doors to his and your stepmother's bedroom, pausing and leaning back to original position.

Turning slowly to the right, to move around the railing, this apparition drags a foot and begins walking down the hallway towards your room.

Seeing the silhouette in its entirety for the first time, it's shape is just that of your fathers, no doubt about it. Though it should've settled you, your mind races even faster than before, and you try to shrink back a bit into the covers of your bed, safe and warm.

You realize that it's just gotten to the door of the bathroom, and nearly to the room that you sister lives in. She is 11 years old.

It appears to take forever to get from the bathroom door to your sisters. It's dragging something behind itself, perhaps what it grabbed out of your stepmothers room. You've got the pillow back over your head, as you hear a knock. You peek out just enough to see the shade enter your sisters room. Behind it you notice the very real outline of an axe, or another awful implement of destruction.

>> Anonymous
>>72424950
TO SEE A MARCHING BAND
>> Multi parter ™
It exits her now vacant room facing 90 degrees from your room, which is to its left. Just as it's standing there outside of her door, you creep back down into the covers to disappear and hopefully be able to inspect when the light comes. Hoping not to be seen, the pillow is over your head again, and your eyes are peeking through a small 'hole' between the pillow and the comforter.

At your most still and serene, you stifle a cough. 'Dad' turns abruptly to his left, having heard you, and begins his slow, dragging journey through the darkness of the hallway, towards your room. You tense up, and try to take back the stifled cough that you cannot. Not a sound can be heard, except for slow dragging...It's foot, it's weapon? Regardless, it is the only noise you can hear, other than the scream of the silence underneath it.

Taking forever, again, to move from doorway to doorway, you stare, unable to move. The noise of dragging slowly grows louder, and louder. You resolve youself to go back to sleep, what else can you do? Sleep will come, and this time, may come and not leave, a gift from 'dad.' Thinking that you don't care if you live or die after this, you pull the covers up and the pillow down. Eyes closed, the scream of silence leaves and the dragging sound fills your ears.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
This website is filth! Let's clean it up!

This post brought to you by Dial Soap
>> Anonymous
>>72425463
This would make a good short story TBH i demand moar
>> Anonymous
>>72425463
MOARRR
>> Anonymous
Bump....for good CP*

*CP being creepypasta
>> Anonymous
>>72425463
Post the rest asshole
>> Anonymous
it was good while it lasted, i guess.

if that's really the best you can do, /b/, then...
>> Anonymous
>>72425463
>>72425463
>>72425463
>>72425463
MOAAAAAR
>> Anonymous
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the Cancer." The person at the desk will contort their face into an expression of pure rage and say "I'd rather have chemo."

Nevertheless, they will give you three ten-sided dice and instruct you to roll them. You may proceed only if your roll is equivalent to a number the person pulls out of their ass.

If, after over 9000 rolls, you acquire the magical number, go and tell the person you have won. The person will completely ignore you. Then, you should scream, as loud as humanly possible, "YOU HAD BETTER DELIVER, FAGGOT!!!" The person will look you directly in the eye and say, "Fuck you, I'm an anteater!"

Here you have two options, one, you can leave now and never, ever come back, or you can continue to try to meet the Holder. If you continue, you must respond, "Sage sage sage." To which the person will say "I'm looking to hookup, A/S/L?"

The person will then lead you down a dark staircase. As you approach the lone door at the end of the staircase, you will begin to hear horrible, inhuman sounds. And, slowly, you will make out the words: "...A YOUNG BOY..."

>> Anonymous
There is a demon of great evil, that will be able to walk upon the Earth if someone is told of its existence and does not repeat the name to another. To the best of my ability, his name roughly approximates "Jkqxxllyuo".

This was told to me by a rather unkempt man on the street; if you have not noticed it already, I just told it to you.
>> Anonymous
>>72425463
>>72425463
>>72425463
>>72425463
srsly keep this thread bumped for moar of this
>> Anonymous
>>72410615

it's a shooped grinning face on a black background
>> Multi parter ™
Sleep comes to you now, slowly at first, and much much faster as it takes hold. Your terror bleeds from you as

your mind blanks for what may be the last time.
The next morning, you awaken, surprisingly. It's Saturday and life has never been so beautiful, the world has

never been so bright. You run downstairs to see your dad and stepmom drinking coffee and eating a warm

breakfast of eggs and toast. Happy to see them both, you are equally glad to see your dad as he normally is,

not ghastly with swirling grayness about his being. You hug him, and feel a twinge of the fear you felt the

previous night. As you run off to play with your friends, your father pats you on the head and asks you where

your sister is.
>> Anonymous
>>72407646
>>72407646
gif gif is gif
>> Anonymous
>>72428419
omg moar, i have a boner
also, in b4 RAEP
>> Anonymous
>>72428037
>>72428037
>>72428037
Fucking win.
>> Anonymous
bump for moar
>> Anonymous
bump for end of story
>> Anonymous
>>72415734
BUT WHO WAS PHONE??
>> Multi parter ™
Confusion at first grasps you, then extreme fear. You know what 'might' have happened to her...but that was a

dream...right? Well, surely she's alright, since none of that could've happened. Here you are, in one piece, here are your parents, well, your dad and stepmom.

The silouhette that haunted you is long gone now, what is there to fear? The only question tugging at you now is the location of your beloved sister. She must've gotten out of the house before you got up and snuck out to a friends'...but...she's only 11 years old, what sort of 11 year old is sneaking out of their parents' house before anyone is up? What a precocious scamp.

You run off to your friends' to enlist help in finding your sister.
>> Anonymous
>>72428419
Fuck off
>> Anonymous
>>72429380
faster please, my boner is dying
>> Anonymous
>>72429416
stfu and gtfo
>> Anonymous
Hey Jack.

How's it going?

Yeah, I can see you. There's no use looking behind you either. You will anyway, but there's no use.

See you soon.
>> Anonymous
>>72406227
If he's behind you, you'd see your own reflection and if he's in front of you you'd see him... Explain?
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
>>72429745
wat
>> Multi parter ™
Your friend usually jovial, shows great concern after seeing your face. No doubt you try to hide it but the thought of what may have happened is pulling and dragging you down. His face drains of blood when he sees you. Both of you, white-faced start your frantic search, after you briefly fill him in about the previous night's happenings.
>> Anonymous
You look into your bathroom mirror at 2:53 in the morning and see yourself with your eyes where your mouth should be, and your left ear where your nose should be.

Your fingers are where your toes are supposed to reside. You slowly look down, and your legs are made up of the skin of a certain food.
Nigga, you got turned into Mr. Potato Head.
>> Multi parter ™
The first thought that the both of you have is to run off to the school, her and her friends like to play on the swings and laugh, so what a natural place to begin.

Arriving at the school playground, you notice that there is one swing, slowly swinging as if blown by breeze, though it is a still day, there are footprints in the mulch under the swingset and the seat is still warm. You're apparently on the right track.
>> Anonymous
>>72430128
MOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR FOR THE LOVE OF GOD
>> Anonymous
Don't turn around
It doesn't like to be seen.
>> Anonymous
>>72430596
brix were shat, srsly.
>> Anonymous
One day, while you were innocently fapping, suddenly yourPENISexploded.
>> Anonymous
>>72430954
OH SHI-
>> Anonymous
>>72407264
Like it was a person dumbshit.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
This website is filth! Let's clean it up!

This post brought to you by Dial Soap
>> Anonymous
>>72428037
IZ DAT SUM ORIGINAL CONTENT?
>> Multi parter ™
You see a shadow blink by in the noon sun, strangely from up above you. Shooting your glance up to the roof of the school, and see a flip of hair fly away, running away from you and your friend.

Your friend is interested in investigating, you aren't, Sis is afraid of heights. Must've been a leaf falling. Wouldn't be the first time in the last day your imagination completely fooled you.

You stand in the day and let the noon sun burn your face and arms. You become strangely aware of the sound of the air about you, and directly after, the silence. The silence that was nearly deafening you last night, is now slowly singing about in the days wind.
>> Anonymous
>>72408776
your father. it implies that your a lesbo.
>> Anonymous
>>72431712
fap fap fap fap fap
>> Anonymous
>>72407855

I am browsing on a sidekick lx and gifs don't animate. I clicked it and shat bricks. I swear im sweating in fear. What the shit?
>> Anonymous
pussy
>> Anonymous
>>72431712
cmon, deliver faster pl0x
>> ­
f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5
>> ™
Noticing your sudden blank expression, your friend taps you. It doesn't even budge you, you're solid. Dead scared where you stand, and you are just sure you wont be able to convey the feeling to anyone, even a kid you've known for the last 8 years.

The wind blows past you, slowly, draggingly. Between leisurely gusts, you are enveloped by the silence. If it were your decision, the wind would never stop blowing, for selfish reasons.

It seems to you now, having stood stone-footed in the same position for the last...god knows how long [your friend is scared and seated at your feet now], that you can follow the silence. The wind blows, silence follows, and you feel as if you could track it. Perhaps it's some strange instinct, strange though it may be, it is an instinct you are prepared to follow.
>> Anonymous
One day, while you were innocently fapping, you hear a click and the lights flicker. Your computer screen flashes off and back on. But now, instead of hardcore gay pornography, there's a picture of goatse! WTF? It starts flicking, slowly, through the power 5. hai2u, lemonparty, meatspin, tubgirl, goatse, hai2u, lemonparty, meatspin, tubgirl, goatse hai2u lemonpart meatspin tubgirl goatse hai2ulemonpartymeatspintubgirlgoatsedarkness. The screen flicks off. Slowly, a final image comes into view. You crane forward to see it, a faint outline looking vaugely familiar as a hand clamps over your eyes and you lapse into unconsciousness.
>> Anonymous
>>72408776

IT WAS MOM!
>> moot !Ep8ui8Vw2 ## ?dmin ­
     File :-(, x)
A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed. The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye.

What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to. This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" The man told her that he had and she said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red."
>> ™
Gusting briefly, the wind flows over your statue, in the middle of the mulch of a grade-school playground. The breeze stops briefly, you blink as the silence howls about you, and again the world is as it was last night, black and white. This time, however, the gradient is hardly there, it's nearly all gray/black and one shining white mound in the mulch of the playground, under the monkey bars, which you have just recently gotten the upper-body strength to use.

The mound is not nearly large enough to contain your worst fear. Still, you are concerned very muchly with what is buried underneath it. Whatsoever it may be will surely lead you in the right direction, towards what may end up being the worst end to the most terrifying 'adventure' of your life.
>> Anonymous
>>72433678

Other version:

A man was referred to a hotel by a friend, so he took the bus there. On the bus, he saw a nice, young looking woman. Curious about her, he decided to ask her name when the bus arrived at the hotel. Rather than checking in right away, he discreetly followed the young woman to her room. She enters her room and he hears it lock. The man goes over and takes a peek inside, curious about how she's like. The only thing he sees though was red, and assumed that she was a person partial to red furniture. The man returns to the front desk and asks the lady there if anyone was living in that particular room. She responded by saying that no one had lived there for years, ever since the girl with red eyes died there.
>> Multi parter ™
Noticing your sudden blank expression, your friend taps you. It doesn't even budge you, you're solid. Dead scared where you stand, and you are just sure you wont be able to convey the feeling to anyone, even a kid you've known for the last 8 years.

The wind blows past you, slowly, draggingly. Between leisurely gusts, you are enveloped by the silence. If it were your decision, the wind would never stop blowing, for selfish reasons.

It seems to you now, having stood stone-footed in the same position for the last...god knows how long [your friend is scared and seated at your feet now], that you can follow the silence. The wind blows, silence follows, and you feel as if you could track it. Perhaps it's some strange instinct, strange though it may be, it is an instinct you are prepared to follow.
Gusting briefly, the wind flows over your statue, in the middle of the mulch of a grade-school playground. The breeze stops briefly, you blink as the silence howls about you, and again the world is as it was last night, black and white. This time, however, the gradient is hardly there, it's nearly all gray/black and one shining white mound in the mulch of the playground, under the monkey bars, which you have just recently gotten the upper-body strength to use.

The mound is not nearly large enough to contain your worst fear. Still, you are concerned very muchly with what is buried underneath it. Whatsoever it may be will surely lead you in the right direction, towards what may end up being the worst end to the most terrifying 'adventure' of your life.


>> Anonymous
>>72410537are there any more of these
>> Anonymous
>>72434486
wat?
>> Anonymous
>>72433678
A /b/tard went to Stickam and browsed up to the homepage to sign in. The mod at the login signed him in and told him that on the way to his raid, there was a cam with no name that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look at this cam, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the mod at the login, going straight to his raid, and NIGGER NIGGER NIGGERing all night long. The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the cam with no number on the page. He scrolled down the page to the cam and clicked the link. Sure enough it was locked. He got on a proxy and looked at the camera. Cold air passed through it, chilling his screen.

What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost NIGGER NIGGER NIGGERed, out of curiosity, but decided not to. This disinclination saved his life. He browsed away from the page and browsed back to his raid. The next day, he returned to the page and looked at the camera. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the cam knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the camera with something red.

At this point he decided to consult the mod at the login for more information. She sighed and said, "Did you look at the cam?" The man told her that he had and it said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife on that cam, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red.
>> Multi parter ™
javascript:quote('72434652')

I failed at putting my subject line in, sry for CCP
>> Anonymous
>>72410537

scpwiki is the creepiest shit ive seen
>> Anonymous
>>72411257
You know, in thumbnail, i always though it looked like a golden retreiver standing on its hind legs
>> Anonymous
a few years ago a boy was home alone with his siter. now him and his sister have been flirting for some time and the sister finally decides to take it to the next level(being the little slut she is)she sneaks into his room and grabs the porno out of the vcr. she walks down stairs where her brother is,inserts the tape. its a disney porn and its right at the point where the candle jacks off onto bells fa
>> Multi parter ™
Slowly, your friend notices the wretched expression on your face, and backs away as if he were in danger. He isn't, that you know of.

Slowly, and without moving your feet, you turn towards the monkey bars, knowing it wasn't your will that

brought you here, for all you know your sister is still in bed...

That formerly glowing mound under the monkey bars is hardly visible now. Nevermind that, you could walk to it

with your eyes closed. Slowly you make your way towards it, dragging your left foot. It would seems that your

body wants you to remain statuesque in the mulch, though your compulsion to move to this object is

overpowering it.

Kneeling would be a kind way to describe your movement towards the earth. Falling, a more accurate way to do so. There is a strange stench in the earth under the previously glowing mound, which is but a precious inch from your face.
>> Anonymous
A few days ago, I was driving home from work. An old woman on the side of the road seemed familiar, so I took a closer look when I passed by. It was my senile grandmother, who has often been found wandering miles from her home. But this was some 30 miles away.

I pulled over, and offered help and a ride. Strangely, she recognized me right off the bat, when she usually thinks I'm her late husband or one of her sons. She said she wanted a ride home, that she was lost and afraid. She typically became coherent when she was under stress, so it was relieving that I wouldn't have to put up with deranged babbling.

On the ride to her place, she started telling me stories about her life, her regrets, and how she wished she had told everyone in her family she loved them, more often. I told her that everyone in the family loves her dearly, and she shouldn't regret anything.

That's when I made the left turn to her street, and I saw several police cars and an ambulance. I looked at my grandmother, hoping she wasn't being stressed out or anything, and to laugh that people were so worried about her.

She was gone.

>> Anonymous
Jesus fucking christ, /b/. I left about an hour and a half ago to get some money from some people. I come back and this thread is still going on
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
F5F5F5F5F5F5

Moar of that story!
>> Anonymous
Thanks guys, it's 4 AM and I have work tomorrow. Not because its creepy much, but mostly because I'm addicted to those stories lol.
>> Multi parter ™
Your body clenches as the wind howls again, through the trees in the nearby park, knowing what follows is the haunting

silence that might have ended you last night. With the one free hand you have, the wood chip mulch is slowly, and

with little dexterity, swept aside from the small mound in the dirt beneath the monkey bars. Each sweep of

mulch drags and grinds on your ears, as the dragging did last night.

There is no wind any longer...Only silence. The trees are still. Your friend sits, paralyzed with fear at the

swing-set.

Glancing briefly at him, as the last wood chip is brushed from the mound, you realize that he has the same

fear in him that you did last night, in the darkness in your house. You see something in him that you have

felt, and perhaps, this once, you COULD convey the feeling to someone. Someone might understand the fear

you've felt.
>> Anonymous
Moar, goddammit!
>> Multi parter ™
Your face drags through the mulch to view your treasure. Below the moist earth, shallowly buried is a pill bottle. An orange pill bottle, such as the pharmacist might deliver you when you are not well. Your hand drags across the mulch, moving through it, more than above it, and grasps this bottle, the reason you have been brought here.

The compulsion that you've felt up to now, to be here, in this familiar place, with this strange feeling and these odd actions has left you. You now hold in your hand the one thing that brought you here, and the one thing that may explain what happened as you hoped to sleep last night.

There could be any number of things inside this bottle, lord knows, it's covered in dirt and small wood chips now, and anything could lay inside. You just stare at it.
>> Anonymous
FUCKING MOAR!!!!
>> Anonymous
A man is visiting another town on a business trip and checks into a hotel. He is given his key and goes up to his room. In the hallway along the way to his room he noticed a door that had the numbering removed from it. Curious as to see what the door led to, he tried to open it, but it was locked. Looking through the keyhole he saw it was an ordinary hotel room, but there was also a woman with pale skin and wearing a white dress facing a window with her back toward him. He thought it was odd that the room wasn't marked, but continued to his room and slept.

The next day going back to his hotel room he stopped at the same mysterious door and peered through the keyhole, but all he could see was red, no room or anything, just red. He shrugged it off and went to his room.

On his last day at the hotel he asked the lady at the front desk about the room and she said, "Well, I suppose I should tell you. The room was once occupied by newlyweds on their honeymoon, but the husband disappeared during the honeymoon and the wife killed herself in her grief. Guests then kept telling us that the room was haunted by a woman that was completely white, except for her eyes, which are red."
>> obvious
bump
>> Multi parter ™
Your friend hasn't moved once since you turned to stone in the wind earlier. Now, he is the statue. His fear

paralyzing him on the mulch, and without a pillow and 'blanky' to keep him safe. No 'dad' to give him his

rest, and comfort him.

When the wind has quit blowing, you have in your hand the orange pill bottle. Your friend is still paralyzed

in the mulch, and you are wishing for death as a sweet escape from the dreadful silence that is screaming

through your ears currently.

It seems to you, when you are able to form a thought, that the silence screams from very nearby now. In fact, since you dug the horrible treasure up, the awful, reprehensible treasure, out of the ground, the screaming silence has been right with you. Pondering what may be in the bottle, you think the silence is held within, and that you may only be getting a very small dose of the torture that would come if you were to open it.
>> Anonymous
http://theholders.org/?The_Holder_of_the_Lulz
>> Anonymous
Bump for fucking moar!
>> Anonymous
Please don't leave me. I want to know the end.
>> Multi parter ™
Presently, you have little worry for the outcome of all of this. Your grasp on the bottle tightens as the wind

blows by in the greatest gust since you've been up this morning. The silence following the blast was

absolutely deafening, leaving your ears ringing. You view, through painfully squinted eyes, a jogger knealing

down by your friend, who is non-responsive to the pleas of this wonderful person coming to the aid of a few /

a helpless grade-school boy, who'd turned to stone on the mulch of a playground.

Realizing that you held the thing that, apparently, you'd come for, you glance back toward it. It was as

beautiful as anything you'd ever seen, and it was all yours. Dragging your fingers across it to remove the

dirt, you grasp the white top of the bottle.

The wind howls again, and the silence nearly kills you. Your friend is now not just a statue, but appears to

be frozen and in pain. Pain that he cannot express due to his stoney grimace.
>> Anonymous
dont fail me now. lets have some more creepy pictures.

I want to be able to ignore the massive spider on my shoulder
>> Anonymous
It seems it's just you and me Mr Writer. I'll bump the hell out of it till you get to the end.
>> Anonymous
>>72405343
I DONT GET IT
>> Anonymous
Once upon a time, a goverment agent found out about 4chan, and shut it down forever!!!
>> obvious
im here too, keep posting
>> Anonymous
Once upon a time, a goverment agent found out about 4chan, and shut it down forever!!!
>> Anonymous
Bump. You sir, deserve many many Internets.
>> Multi parter ™
If you could reach out and take your friends' pain away from him, you wouldn't. You aren't certain as to why

you wouldn't do such a simple thing [were you able to] for your friend, who you've known for 8 years, but you

wouldn't.

The top of the bottle is not rough as the usual pill bottle from the apothecary is. In fact, it's obvious that

it once was. Those ridges had been smoothed out over many months or perhaps years of removing and replacing

the top.

On one of the underside edges of the round cap, you notice a strange streak. Just as you notice it, the

silence comes back, before the wind this time.

A large blast of wind blows wood chips across the playground, and your 14 year old friend takes a majority of them to the face, without moving, you smile at that, as you slowly turn the white, wear-worn cap of the pill bottle.
>> ­
bump for great justice
>> Anonymous
>>72416790
MOAR!!! There's no pic of this one?
>> Anonymous
Re-bump for awesome justice and win.
>> Anonymous
you hold a large, scoped semi-automatic rifle with white knuckles, the grip drips with your sweat. youre alone in a paved lot, thousands of half cylinder steel prefab buildings you run up to the top of one of the buildings and take a quick view of the surroundings but all you can see is more prefab buildings shrinking into the distance. you click the scopes settings to 12x but still only the uniform buildings with uniform colors are visible your heart sinks as you sit and ponder for what seems like hours only envisioning death and despair in your future. after crying your eyes out you say fuck it and start exploring buildings all of the interiors are the same but each time you look in you feel as if something is different. finally you come upon a building that looks different on the exterior, the only thing thats different is that there is no door.


pt.1
>> Multi parter ™
You're barely able to turn the cap before the world explodes into black and white again, a gust of wind

carries half of the schoolyard's worth of wood chips with it across the yard, a majority of which strike your

friend / ex-friend. Coyly smiling at the damage done to him, you are suddenly enjoying the pain inflicted upon

him. In fact, you don't mind succumbing to the winds sudden silence forever to torment him.

The top of the pill bottle comes off, and the world goes blindingly white.
What? You drop the cap loosely from your 'dragging' hand. There's nothing now. Just a bottle, which is

not visible, and a kid you wish to inflict your wrath upon.
>> Anonymous
you start blasting away to create an opening you get in and find a go-kart course. its any kids dream you turn on the lights and you see that the room stretches for miles and miles and miles for as far as your eyes can see. you walk up to the gigantic course most of it twisting and turning track except for a 30x30 foot box that looked like the entrance at any other go-kart track there is carnival music playing and a corpse like old man standing wearing a purple and green pinstripe vest the people in the line are all wrinkled and old dressed exactly like you. 10 go-karts pass you you decide you want to avoid the fate of wrinkling while waiting for a cart you kill off one of the drivers and ride, ride till your having an orgasm giggling like a little boy.a feeling of sinking hits you you turn the kart around and go back to the start and run to the entrance you search for where you came in it seems as if it is just a rip in the clear blue sky you climb back out and use your scope to look for another rip in the sky and continue to climb through an almost infinite amount of universes each very unique and amusingbut you tell yourself not to get distracted and push on until you reach an empty white room with an old wooden framed mirror you approach the mirror and turn it so it faces you the face in the mirror is yours all it says is "finally" and shoots himselfyou step into the mirror and wait for what seems like an eternity until you show up in the room all you say is "finally" and at the pull of your trigger you wake up it was all a dream but you remember it so vividly you go through your morning routine and set off to work wondering all day if there is a rip in the universe somewhere so perhaps you could finally truly end everything. pt.2
>> Anonymous
>>72415740

Fuck you, faggot, you just made me lose the game.
>> Multi parter ™
Closing your eyes, you beg for some sort of forgiveness, you try to repent, for something, just something

insignificant enough to change the white to blackness again.

The silence comes back slowly, dragging and creeping towards you...Your clenched eyes relax a bit, and you

gain your composure. The pill bottle in your hand holds something, and it's your time to find out what.
>> Anonymous
This story is never gonna fucking end.
>> Anonymous
It better have an ending. I'm sleepy.
>> Anonymous
moar
>> Multi parter ™
Still able to just drag your limbs about on the mulch, you turn the bottle slowly towards yourself. The open

end shining again as the world goes black around it. Just you and the bottle. You look about in the darkness,

with your pill bottle as the only light, and you see the hallway you had such awful nightmares about last

night. The world dark, you half-paralyzed, and now your friend, who is standing, completely still, and looks

forever and a world away from you.

You notice that he is only a silhouette, with gray swirling apparitions about him.
>> Anonymous
Your lying down on a medical table, bandages wrapped around your faces. the doctors are talking amongst themselves about how your face is too hideous to save

SPOILER: THE DOCTORS HAVE PIG FACES, YOU DON'T!

OH SHIT TWILIGHT ZONE
>> Anonymous
You fucking niggers.
>> Anonymous
god damn, finish it
>> Anonymous
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRLs-H8y-f8
>> Multi parter ™
Your terror is again very real and gripping.

You've seen this before, and it absolutely terrified you.

No covers. No pillow. No alarm clock to hope dad awakens soon. All you have is the dreaful silence...

The dreadful silence, and your new strange treasure.


You stare your dreadful friend down, praying now, to be able to inflict your true wrath upon him.

The wind blows no longer, and you are just deafened by the silence. Hardly able to move you take a quick peek

inside the pill bottle.

In this light, it could be anything, however it appears to be hair. Not only hair, but a ponytail, removed

without permission, just look at the cut marks behind the twisty-tie. And wrapped up in the ponytail, a small

key.
>> Anonymous
Step 1: Go to www.battletoadsonline.com.
Step 2: Click on one of the awesome games.
Step 3: ???
Step 4: Profit
>> Anonymous
>>72415740
AHHHHHHHH
FUCK YOU
>> Anonymous
I have to leave. Would Anon be reliable enough to send me the story from the next post?
>> Anonymous
>>72421223

WRONG! They're beings that exist in a perfectly quantum state; so long as they are observed they can't move. They absorb the 'could be' energy from someone's life, all the things they could have done, and send them flying into the past.

Also, Doctor Who ftw. <3 Tennant, fucking <3
>> Anonymous
>>72446579
THat can be done
>> Anonymous
i came
>> Anonymous
>>72446868
I would really appreciate. I'm saving that story by the way. Fucking awesome.
>> Anonymous
>>72405605
They made up their minds, and they started packing. They left before the sun came up that day. An exit to eternal summer slacking; but where were they going without ever knowing the way?
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
>>72447102
Great song
>> Anonymous
Keep this to /x/ please, that board was partly made for this stuff.
>> Anonymous
>>72447102
anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold, it's always summer it never gets cold. they never get hungry, they never get old and grey.
>> Anonymous
>>72415740
Fuck you.
>> Multi parter ™
The key you recall seeing before. Your apparition-friend is slowly moving towards you, and you finally have

the strength to stand.

This ghost, which you somewhat recognize from last night, is now not terrifying to you.

It drags it's foot the same way, it drags it's weapon the same way, and the same sound it makes, it made last

night. In fact, you ponder, you made the same sound as you dragged yourself across the mulch, and when you

scraped the dirt off of the pill bottle.

This apparition realizes your lack of terror, and rushes you. There is little time to think, you have no

weapons on you, that you know of.

You luck out that the ponytail is in your hand and you hold it in front of you. The apparition that is now

your ex-friend stops dead, and reaches for it, slowly.

Realizing just then what is going on, you grasp the ponytail as you previously did the bottle, take the key

and run. You run like you're being chased by the devil himself, and at this point you might be.
>> Anonymous
>>72447170
what is that
>> Anonymous
bump
>> Anonymous
>>72447732
From a weird ass movie.
Find it here
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-7973225371449473825&q=begotten&total=498&start=
>> Multi parter ™
Running like hell, as you never have before [maybe you ought to try out for the track team], you leave behind

only darkness. The wind blows from behind you, harder than it has yet, and leaves the loudest, most awful

deathly silences in its place.

Running through yards and over fences, hoping to leave the most awful silence behind you, you grip your

sisters' ponytail and the key in opposite hands.

With your previous torture victim speeding towards you in black and white, and nothing but the most horrid

gut-wrenching silence behind and ahead of you, you run, run blindly in the black and white, with tears

streaming down your face.
>> Anonymous
Someday, you'll all meet a loved person, if you didn't already. You will marry with this person and do consensual sex in the missionary position with him/her. You'll have babies who you won't rape or feed of.
>> =
http://tinyurl.com/52fu6q
http://tinyurl.com/52fu6q
http://tinyurl.com/52fu6q
http://tinyurl.com/52fu6q
>> Anonymous
these threads are no fun when you are intelligent enough to know there is no supernatural
>> Anonymous
I was riding home from school today on my bus, listening to music and not paying attention to anything. As we were stopping at one of the bus stops, a girl in the back started screaming. I looked back and saw her pointing out the window, and I followed her stare. Out in an unfenced yard were three guys. Two of them standing, one of them was on the ground, bloody. The taller of the two men had a baseball bat and was about ready to smash it into the downed man's head again, when the men realized a whole busload of kids was looking at them. As the bus driver radioed in the 911 call, the other man, who hadn't been doing anything, took a pistol out of his pocket and shot the guy in the head. At this point, the whole bus was in shock and glued to the morbid scene. The two men got into a car and sped off. When I came home I was visibly shaken. I told my mom what I had just seen. Then she got scared and said, "You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air." I whistled for a cab and when it came near, the license plate said "FRESH" and it had dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare but I thought "Nah, forget it, yo homes to Bel-Air!" I pulled up to the house about 7:00 or 8:00 and I yelled to the cabby, "Yo homes, smell ya later!" Looked at my kingdom, I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel-Air.
>> Multi parter ™
Knowing now what you were brought to the schoolyard to find, you find yourself disgusted by the feel of the

objects in your hands. A lock of your sister's hair and a key, which you seem to recognize as the key to a

shed behind your friends' house.

The thought of what may be in that shed makes you wish you'd just let the police handle this, and at the same

time, make you wish you'd dealt with that kid at the playground when you had the chance. Who else could've

seen that glowing in the mulch? Who else could've known that the one thing your ex-friend wanted was your

sister, to himself, forever?
>> Anonymous
>>72413538
I don't get it.
>> Anonymous
>>72449158
he was charged $50 for a $8 book
>> Anonymous
You'd like to think you would do the right thing. You'd like to think that if someone was in danger you would help them. But imagine being home alone and be awoken at night by loud screams and pounding on your door. "Help me!" the voice shouts, "Please someone help me!" The pounding on your door becomes louder and more frantic. What would you do? Do you get up and answer the door? What's out there? Who is the person running from, and what would they do to YOU if you opened the door? You could close your eyes and ignore it. Pull the blankets over your head and pray that the person screaming runs to another house. You've spent so much time deciding between fear and fearlessness that the pounding stops. There are no more screams. Just handprints streaked all over your window, and a puddle of blood on your porch.
>> Anonymous
Dont turn around.

It doesnt like to be seen.
>> Multi parter ™
With no breath left you hop the fence to your friend's neighbor's yard. In fact, you basically fall over the

fence. The world finds color again and you stand on your own two feet, with little worry.

Grasping the lock of sis' hair and the key you move around the back of the neighbor's house and hop into the

backyard of the key's mate. Glancing around, you notice no one. Lucky you. Keeping your cool, and expecting

the wind again, you inch towards the locked shed.

No wind this time, just a sliding glass door opening and closing. Your friend's mother steps out onto their patio. Beautiful, she asks, 'what are you doing love? why not come on in for dinner?'

"No 'love,' I'm going to open this damned shed door!"

Exclaiming as you turn towards the lock, key in hand, you jam it into the lock and twist!
>> Anonymous
So I turn to one of the four bitties riding my dick, I don't particularly remember her name as it is hard enough for me to count to four within a reasonable amount of time let alone remember the names of said four bitties riding upon my flesh canon. Anyways I looked into her cataract covered eye...yes eye, and told her "Look cum-catcher I gotta get my hustle on because I is darker than Wesley Snipes, so if you could go ahead and tell your friends to get off me dick that would be in the best order of things." So the bitty got off my dick and I picked up my crack pipe and my 40 and got on with my hustle. Anyways fuck Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, I'm the Raider of the Lost Benjamins Yadamean? Not only does my asian exo-bot make bitches shit their proverbial bricks, it makes thems shit said bricks in quite a literal sense and then proceed to form those bricks into sort of a fecal foundation or shit house if you will. In said shit house excessive urination is often involved and this is like a big steaming pile of jenkem sos me and my bitties can get our fix yadamean? Anyways suckadick and I love you david hasselhoff.
>> Noko Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
Multi Parter ™
Oldfag Femanon here. please, let me have your babies. I will make you as many sandwiches as you want for the rest of eternity.

MOAR
>> Anonymous
>>72447102

FUCKING AY I HAVEN'T HEARD THAT SONG IN SO LONG HAVE AN INTERNETZ
>> Anonymous
for anyone unimpressed with the fails in this thread, http://www.editthis.info/scp_wiki/
>> Anonymous
>>72450540

Not femanon here, but same fucking offer.

>>72450666

That song is epic win.
>> Multi parter ™
Nothing but darkness in the shed. Turning behind you, you see the world in black and white, with slowly

moving gray apparitions moving towards you. You are overwhelmed with the sweet stench of awful decay as you

move into the shed. There is a light switch you hardly dare touch, but, hey, it's the least awful thing

you've seen today.

You flip the switch, a graceful breeze blows by, and you are deafened by the following silence. In fact, the

silence that follows is intensified by something within the shed, that should be visible, but is just howling

silence.
>> Anonymous
you see the rotting remains of your sister's mutilated corpse inside the lit shed.
slowly, over the howling silence, you notice she turns her head slowly towards you. she whispers to you
"you just lost the game"
and you hear the shed door slam behind you.
>> Anonymous
>>72451111
Fuck. I'm all caught up now. Moar! Faster!
>> Multi parter ™
The 'friend' you had, that you came to want dead, is now standing in this shed, devoid of expression.

Statuesque as he was at the playground, unmoving. There is a slight smile on his face, despite his dead-ness.

He's been struck through with a spike, impaled, against the wall. You are no longer wishing him dead, your

best friend, save for the fact that you see your sister, your 11 year old sister dead at his feet, ponytail

cut off, abruptly it seems, and bleeding from her head. He, in death, is vaguely smiling, somehow, some way,

knowing that he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

The world inside the shed draws color from the world.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>>72417073
JxcelDolghmQ?!
>> Anonymous
>>72451534

don't even try to touch him, faggot.
>> Anonymous
A few years ago, a mother and father decided they needed a break, so they wanted to head out for a night on the town. They called their most trusted babysitter. When the babysitter arrived, the two children were already fast asleep in bed. So the babysitter just got to sit around and make sure everything was okay with the bastard children. Later that night, the babysitter got bored and went to watch TV, but she couldn't watch it downstairs because they did not have cable downstairs (the parents didn't want bastard children watching too much garbage). So, she called them and asked them if she could watch cable in the parent's room. Of course, the parents said it was ok, but the babysitter had one final request... she asked if she could cover up the mudkipz statue in their bedroom with a blanket or cloth, because it made her nervous. The phone line was silent for a moment, and the father who was talking to the babysitter at the time said, "Take the children and get out of the house... we will call the police. We do not liek mudkipz."
>> Multi parter ™
...You awake, at 4:01am, with a strange feeling inside you. The apparition you've just seen walking down the

hallway towards your room, has stoped. Long after you thought you'd die at it's hand, and worried about your

sister, you are strangely comfortable. You look down the hallway, between your pillow and the comforter, and

grip your sister's ponytail tightly, knowing exactly why it is keeping you safe.
>> obvious
>>72452408is this the end or what, im confused...i dont like cliffhangers
>> Anonymous
you just arrive home with KFC, the next thing you know; there's a knock at your door. it's a nigra; he flares his nostrils smelling the delectable chicken. then you realize you left your door unlocked.
>> Anonymous
Many classic horror icons, such as Geger'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 or 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 affect 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?

... Just be careful out there.
>> Multi parter ™
quote('72452925') LOL this was the end, but i kept writing for you anons. I'm willing to keep going if you want

[end]It exits her now vacant room facing 90 degrees from your room, which is to its left. Just as it's standing there outside of her door, you creep back down into the covers to disappear and hopefully be able to inspect when the light comes. Hoping not to be seen, the pillow is over your head again, and your eyes are peeking through a small 'hole' between the pillow and the comforter.

At your most still and serene, you stifle a cough. 'Dad' turns abruptly to his left, having heard you, and begins his slow, dragging journey through the darkness of the hallway, towards your room. You tense up, and try to take back the stifled cough that you cannot. Not a sound can be heard, except for slow dragging...It's foot, it's weapon? Regardless, it is the only noise you can hear, other than the scream of the silence underneath it.

Taking forever, again, to move from doorway to doorway, you stare, unable to move. The noise of dragging slowly grows louder, and louder. You resolve youself to go back to sleep, what else can you do? Sleep will come, and this time, may come and not leave, a gift from 'dad.' Thinking that you don't care if you live or die after this, you pull the covers up and the pillow down. Eyes closed, the scream of silence leaves and the dragging sound fills your ears.[/end]
>> Anonymous
>>72405605
fail
it's supposed to be a clown statue newfag
>> Anonymous
>>72453369

many internets, BJs and Sammiches if you do
>> Anonymous
So ur with ur honey and yur making out wen the phone rigns. U anser it n the vioce is "wat r u doing wit my daughter?" U tell ur girl n she say "my dad is ded".
THEN WHO WAS PHONE?
>> Anonymous
>>72453369

I thought it was the end, to be honest. You're my fuck hero. I'd like to see more, but it's fucking awesome nonetheless. Persue a career in writing real books, fr srs.
>> Anonymous
bump
>> Multi parter ™
Grasping the ponytail as tightly as you can, and making your last wishes [just in case], you hide under the covers, forever if you must. You'd never leave if you didn't have to, you're fresh from the shower and the smell is comforting.

This whole scene should comfort you, save the fact that the deteriorating ponytail you hold in your hand is your sister's. Your beloved sister, who's life was snuffed out far too early.

When you wake up, you'll inform your Dad and stepmom.
>> Anonymous
MOARRRRRRRRRRRR
>> Anonymous
>>72407264
..DUMBASS.
>> Anonymous
>>72453079
wolves.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
NIGGERS. Thats my creepy story.
>> Anonymous
Then, one day Verizon opted to not their users connect to certain newgroups.

GIGA GASP

Also, SCP wiki series is fucking awesome