Realm of the Creepypasta

[Deleted_Account]

 

[Scuba Steve]

Can I just say, from the point of view of a teacher who has to watch the dumb shit ten-year-olds do every day, it is astounding how obsessed they are with "creepypastas" and memes. They are outside on the playground running in the trees playing 'Slenderman' and every piece of homework has 'Five Nights at Freddies' bears holding bloody knives. Later, at lunch, they'll shout Minecraft video memes at each other saying "HE NISS SUM MILK!"

 

I'd like to think I wasn't this dumb... but I'm pretty sure we spent the entirety of 6th grade science drawing pictures of Barney the Dinosaur hanging out with Lorena Bobbitt holding a knife in one hand and some kind of penis symbolism in the other.

 

Note: This is the first year kids have Googled and found my Doomwiki portrait and I should probably stop posting about them before one of the little rugrats creates an account and views my entire posting history.

[Deleted_Account]

Speaking of Slenderman, here's a short horror film based on it. It's actually well done.

 

 

[Deleted_Account]

 

[geo]

I have some true creepy pasta. Its more like a story that happened maybe a decade ago now. I'm only reminded of it because at Easter my cousin's cousin mentioned that she liked listening to scary stories on the radio. Heck I think I may have even told this story in the old Doomworld blogs back when it happened.

 

A decade ago I dated a girl who lived across the street from two graveyards. One was a typical graveyard and the other was a church graveyard. Her parents were the people that opened the gates at 8 am before they went to work and closed the gates at 5 pm when they came home. Other than the graveyard the house was in the middle of farm country with cornfields everywhere on long stretches of road. It was creepy enough leaving her place and going home at like 1 or 2 am.

 

So on a Friday I was driving home. I turned left on the next 3 way intersection from her house. Its all dirt road and because the roads are laid out around cornfields they are 90 degree turns. In the growing season, these turns can be a bit blind. When I turned, I had made a full onto the next road and there was something in the middle of my lane. It was dark, I just turned into it and only saw it when it was too late. I knew I had a white bucket, standing upright and at midnight in farm country. I have seen movies before and that sounds like a trap. Place a bucket around around a corner so someone blindly hits it.

 

The bucket wedged under my car and I thought fuck it keep driving, because chances are someone with a sniper rifle is hoping I'd get out or even just humble pranksters would run out of the cornfield to laugh at me. I kept driving a little bit until the bucket was wedged under I realized I couldn't go more than 15 mph. Maybe if I had been going faster or in a truck I wouldn't get stuck. It made such a bad noise I thought it was messing up my car's undercarriage. Now that I'm typing now, I realize if I floored it I might have made the situation worse.

 

I called my girlfriend since I had just left her house 2 minutes ago. She never answered, maybe her phone was dead or somehow she just instantly went to sleep. So instead I called my cousin who is usually up late enough people think she's a vampire. My cousin answered. I told her the story that I hit a bucket and I felt my car was disabled. She pointed out it was or had just been Friday the thirteenth so its probably an intentional prank.

 

With my cousin on the phone, I told her the plan that I was going to do was run out, rip the bucket out from under my car and run back in. I was just going to do it as fast as possible because again there's no telling what can go on in the middle of no where at night on Friday the thirteenth. If I was going to be taken or anything she knew where I was.

 

I left the phone in the car, opened the door, made sure to leave it open, ran to the front, ripped the bucket out from under the car and just blindly heaved it into the cornfield. I hopped back in the car and kept driving fast. The bucket had been wedged under the car with only the top lip of the buckets sticking out. The bottom of the bucket was completely under the vehicle. I managed to injure myself pulling it out.

 

Back in the car I sped away before I noticed damn something stinks. Once I turned the next corner I hit my dome lights and there was blood all over my hands and fingertips. I hadn't just hit a bucket, I had hit a bucket of blood.

 

So with blood on my hands, I went back to my girlfriend's house knocked at the door and she answered. Asked why I was back and I said I just hit a bucket of blood. She couldn't believe it but sure enough I was all red. Like a serial killer I washed the blood off in her kitchen sink. I can't remember what we said, but I did still end up driving home which was an hour away. It still stank. When I got home I washed my hands two or three more times to get the stink off. Chances are it was more than blood in the bucket. I don't think blood would stink that much, but I've never been knee deep in the dead.

 

The next day, my girlfriend told her parents about it. Perhaps in such disbelief they searched for the bucket. They knew where it happened. There was a blood stain on the ground with a dragging through the dirt road. Yep sure enough it was a bucket of blood heaved into a cornfield.

 

That's the bucket of blood story. I have refrained from embellishing for the sake of a good story. I feel if the bucket of blood was full of chicken heads it would make for a better story, but no.

[Deleted_Account]

Edit.

Edited November 14, 2018 by Ex Oblivione

[Tracer]

I once made a bowl of spaghetti.  It was creepy.

[geo]

I used to listen to Coast 2 Coast AM for the scary stories told by normal people that just call up. Real or fake, they had some damn good stories on there. I should just tell stories that I remember from listening to the show at like 2 AM. One of the hosts wrote "The Day After Tomorrow."

[DoomKnight1984]

 

[HorrorMovieRei]

On 14/04/2017 at 0:12 AM, Scuba Steve said:

Can I just say, from the point of view of a teacher who has to watch the dumb shit ten-year-olds do every day, it is astounding how obsessed they are with "creepypastas" and memes. They are outside on the playground running in the trees playing 'Slenderman' and every piece of homework has 'Five Nights at Freddies' bears holding bloody knives.

Creepypastas are in a lot of ways the "urban legends" of this current generation of kids. Creepypasta is by definition however, fiction, unlike Urban Legends who are usually presented real, or at least based on a real incident. This is part of the reason why there are so many bad creepypastas, because a large part of the fanbase is so young and doesn't really have the knack for writing just yet. But that's good too, I suppose, at least they're putting their energy towards creative pursuits. I don't know why, but kids just love being scared(granted they're not actually in danger, of course). I did anyway, and I still do(despite it getting increasingly harder to get spooked nowadays).

[Deleted_Account]

 

[Deleted_Account]

 

[Deleted_Account]

On 4/15/2016 at 4:32 PM, Piper Maru said:

Not a Creepypasta but a particularly chilling tale, a good old fashioned ghost story from M.R. James.
 

 

Just quoting an earlier post I made in this thread. An interesting article to go along with Count Magnus by M.R. James. The Black Pilgrimage. If you're interested in alchemy, eternal life and the Antichrist.

[Deleted_Account]

Someone Died in my Home and I think They're Still Here

 

 

I've been reading creepy stories on NoSleep for three years, but I never thought I'd end up being in one. The last few months have been the strangest and most frightening of my life. Most of my friends think I've gone a bit mad, or I’m making it up. So where else was I supposed to vent but on this subreddit?

It seems ridiculous typing this, but I’m sure my new flat is haunted, and believe me when I say: I wish it was all in my mind. It's not the most spacious of flats, I didn't buy it because I loved it, but it was all I could afford in an area close to work. The building isn't all that old, maybe twenty years or so, and the flat itself, which is three stories up, is quite modern inside, with wooden flooring and white walls. There are two bedrooms, one of which has been the focal point for everything that’s occurred.

When I moved in I threw everything I couldn't find a place for into the second bedroom; I’ve never been the most organised and I do tend to hoard things if I’m honest. The spare room was filled with rolled up posters, tools, DVDs, boxes of clothes and even some old bedroom furniture I still had left over from my last place. There wasn't much room to move around in there, so you can imagine my surprise when I heard something unthinkable coming from inside.

It all started about two weeks after I moved in. I was cooking dinner in the kitchen one evening and I had zoned out while stirring some pasta, listening to a podcast as I often do to get through the boredom of cooking. That was when I heard it.

The boiling water faded into the background as I realised that the sound of bubbles forming and bursting had been joined by a very distinct noise. I could hear the sound of footsteps walking slowly down the hall towards where I was. My nerves began to rattle; someone had broken into my flat and was making their way to where I stood. I grabbed a kitchen knife - for those who think this is extreme I've been burgled once before - and slowly made my way into the living room and then towards the hall. Just as I reached the hall doorway, the footsteps sped up to running pace, followed by a door slamming violently.

The hall was dark at first, as it has no windows, and as I entered it I felt like a child terrified of his own shadow, quickly reaching for the light. The front door lay at the end of the hallway, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that I thought about running to it and leaving the flat and any unseen intruder behind.

My imagination started to run riot and as my mind played with images of an attacker lurking behind one of the other three doors present, I nervously smiled to myself. I began to suspect that the footsteps had come from somewhere else, perhaps the flat above me. Still, I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that I was not alone.

First, I peeked nervously into the hall cupboard. Nothing there but bedsheets and towels. Then I checked my bedroom - the only crime being committed in there the mess of the place.

Finally, I stood in front of the door to the second bedroom; the spare room. Swinging it open I let out a sigh of relief that the room was still filled with junk, but otherwise empty. At the time I put it down to my imagination, but now I know that it was the earliest indicator that something was wrong, that something was in the flat with me.

I'd say about a week or so passed before anything happened again, and by then I’d put the footsteps out of my mind. It was a Sunday afternoon. I’d had a bad cold that week and work had been difficult to get through, so I just stayed in the flat over the weekend hoping I’d feel better by the morning.

I was sitting on the living room couch binge watching a TV show. The light was streaming through the windows, and my mind was as far away as possible from anything frightening or supernatural. Suddenly, and with no warning, someone walked into the living room behind me and marched straight through into the kitchen. I was startled, and when I turned around I only caught the last moments of the kitchen door being slammed shut with a bang.

For some reason my first reaction was to start shouting and swearing that I was going to cause whoever was in the kitchen real bodily harm. I wanted to frighten them away, but really it was I who was terrified.

I ran into my bedroom and grabbed a golf club from my set, which had been languishing in a cupboard since I’d moved in. As I wandered into the hall, the fear got the better of me. I unlocked the front door, opened it, and ran out into the hallway, which I share with the other residents, and then out into the street. After a minute or so I was around the corner out of sight, phoning for the police.

30 Minutes later, the police arrived. I only entered the flat once they had searched it thoroughly for the intruder. Nothing seemed to have been stolen, but the kitchen door had been shut as I thought. The police entered the room, but found no one and told me that if someone had been in the flat, that they had already left.

The kitchen itself was intact, but bizarrely the intruder had turned on the lights, opened the oven and left it running on a high heat. The police seemed satisfied that no one was there, and while they told me to phone the local police station if I saw anyone suspicious, it seemed clear to me that they thought I had imagined the entire thing. Even I began to question it myself, wondering if I’d left the oven on from the night before and forgotten about it, dosed up on cough medicine.

The following night I knew there was more than just my imagination at play. I tried to put the previous day out of my mind, but the sounds of footsteps and banging doors stayed with me. I’ve always thought the best remedy for a weary mind is sleep, so that’s what I intended to do.

I went through my nightly routine before going to bed:

Front door locked - check.

Windows closed - check.

TV and other appliances switched off - check.

I shuffled off to bed, curled up and put the TV on so I had something to fall asleep to, the noise keeping me company and any paranoid thoughts at bay. Then, about five minutes later, I heard an unmistakable noise. A click. It was the light switch in the hall and was accompanied by light trickling underneath my door into my room.

I’m sure I must have taken in a sharp inhalation of air, but I remained silent; still and frozen. Someone was standing at my bedroom door. I could hear the floorboards creak under the weight. Before I had time to react, the intruder walked slowly down the hall away from my room, stopped for a moment, and then - I was sure of it - entered the spare room.

It took me a few seconds to piece together what had just happened. For a moment I hesitated again, wondering if I should phone the police or whether this was just another flight of fancy. Suddenly I heard a loud clattering noise. My things being thrown around violently.

I called the police quickly and then frantically moved a wardrobe up against my bedroom door, hoping that I would be left alone. Then I heard the intruder again. A door creaked open quietly, almost inaudibly, and slowly, surely, the footsteps began walking towards my bedroom door. They then stopped right outside my room, as if the person were about to enter. That was the most terrifying thing, having to wait to see what the intruder would do next. Suddenly, I heard a banging sound - the police were knocking on my outside door. The footsteps then turned, marched down the hall into the living room and then kitchen, before ending the entire ordeal abruptly with a loud bang of a slammed door.

By the time I let the police into my flat, I was visibly shaken. And yet they found very little: at first. The kitchen was as it had been before. The oven door lying open, spewing out heat into the night.

The spare room, however, was another story entirely. Everything in there had been violently thrown around, much of it broken and torn. An old mirror smashed, and most of the boxes and furniture upturned. I swore to the police that the intruder had never left, that they couldn’t have, and that they must still have been in the flat somewhere, hiding. But that suggestion was greeted with an unhealthy amount of incredulity.

I won’t bore you with the details, but these strange events continued for over two months. Sometimes it would be something small, a piece of furniture out of place, a light switching on by itself. But on three separate occasions the same exact occurrences which had left me barricaded in my room took place. Footsteps in the hall, the spare room left in disarray, and then the slamming of the kitchen door and the oven lying open.

Eventually, even on the quiet nights, the fear of something happening became too much for me. The anticipation took a heavy toll. Most nights nothing would occur, but then on others the same ghostly footsteps would wander through my home. I just couldn’t sleep there any longer. Finally, I couldn’t bear it any longer and so I spent several nights at my brother’s just to get a good night’s sleep. I told him the truth, but he just seemed more worried about my state of mind than anything else. I don’t blame him, I can imagine how it all must have appeared.

After a few days, he offered a solution of sorts - he would house sit with me. He wanted to see these occurrences for himself. I didn’t enter back into the flat lightly, but if someone else experienced what I had, it at least would confirm to me that I wasn’t going mad.

I slept on an airbed on my bedroom floor while my brother slept in my bed for three nights in a row, with nothing strange occurring. Then, finally, on the fourth night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard it: click. The light in the hall came on. My brother sat up startled and looked down at me on the floor, his expression one of disbelief.

He whispered for me to get up, which I did. We then listened. The footsteps gradually appeared, as if starting from somewhere far off. They continued, growing louder as they walked slowly towards my bedroom door. I think that’s the first time in my life when I’ve seen my brother genuinely scared. As the footsteps neared, he jumped out of bed and dragged my wardrobe in front of the door.

It was then that he made himself quite clear, whispering in a low voice. He hadn’t thought that anything would happen, in fact he just came and stayed with me to set my nerves at ease or to prove that I was sleep walking and causing the issues myself.

He didn’t believe, but as the footsteps stopped outside the bedroom door, he swore under his breath and stood by the window. I think it was a natural reaction, to look for a possible exit, but being three stories up, there wasn’t anywhere to go.

Then it played out as before. The footsteps turned and walked away from us down the hall. They entered the spare room, which was followed by the noise of my things in there being thrown around. Finally, the footsteps walked to my door again, stood, and then marched down to the kitchen, slamming the door behind.

Neither of us slept the rest of the night, and in the morning my brother recommended that I leave that place behind, and find a new home - easier said than done. As a condition of my mortgage I couldn’t sell the place until I had officially been living there for 2 years.

He offered for me to sleep at his until I could find somewhere else to rent in order to wait the two years out, but I just couldn’t afford it. My brother and his wife had two kids, and were trying for a third, in a 2 bedroom house. Staying there was no long term solution for any of us.

Later that day he phoned me, overly excited by the idea that he had found a solution. He had been doing some research online to see if other people had experienced similar strange goings on in their homes, and what they had done, if anything, to stop them from happening.

He told me that he’d read a couple of similar accounts - footsteps, lights being switched on and off, furniture being thrown around violently. One family from Arizona in the U.S. had supposedly ‘got rid’ of a similar unwelcome house-mate by simply confronting it. Several ‘experts’ - and I use that term lightly - believed that poltergeists and other ‘noisy ghosts’ behaved in such a way because they were confused and reacted violently to this disorientation.

I was sceptical, but as my brother continued it began to seem less ridiculous and worth a try at least, especially if it meant I didn’t have to sleep on someone’s floor for the next two years until I could sell the flat.

He then told me that one of these experts believed that such disturbances occur when the spirit of someone who has passed doesn’t realise it is dead. When it wanders around a place which it used to call home, it sees objects, belongings etc. which are unfamiliar, and simply cannot understand why. In this utter confusion, it lashes out, mostly at possessions, but occasionally at people who it sees as invaders of its home. One particular instance was reported in a family home. A bedroom would be thrown into disarray because it used to be the deceased’s. By confronting the spirit while it was manifest and telling it that it no longer lived their, and that it had passed on, the entity ‘dissipated’ and moved on.

It all seemed like mumbo jumbo to me, but then so too did the very idea of a ghost - and by this point I was convinced one was living, or unliving, in my flat.

We agreed then that we would at least try to confront it. I have to say I was curious, but part of me wanted to just leave it all behind. My brother had the idea that we should clear the spare room out completely, and sleep in there each night until the footsteps appeared. It made sense, as that was a focal point for the disturbances, but the entire wait filled me with apprehension.

On the second night, it happened.

There we were, sleeping on the floor like we did when we had sleepovers as kids, waiting in the spare room for something we didn’t understand to appear. With everything removed, the room seemed bare, and I felt a strange sadness for the place, an emptiness.

At around 1AM, I first heard it. Somehow I knew it would appear that night; I felt it in the atmosphere, like the tension before a storm.

Click.

The hall light came on. My brother looked at me with a mixture of fright and excitement. Silence. Then, the footsteps began. They walked slowly down the hall to my bedroom door. And there they waited, while we waited also, in the place where my belongings had been bashed and broken over and over. Finally, they turned and began their slow shuffling walk towards the spare room - where we now lay.

By the time the footsteps reached the door, my brother and I were both on our feet. I’ve never been so scared, and I could hear the terror in my brother’s shaking breath. Then, the handle turned slowly. The door opened.

Nothing.

There was nothing there, just an empty doorway. My brother had taken out his phone and was recording video, but he couldn’t see anything but thin air. I can’t remember the exact words we used, but between the two of us we hesitated, finally conveying that if anyone was there, they were dead, and that they no longer lived in the flat and needed to accept it and ‘move on’.

Nothing, again.

We waited for a moment. And as I turned to my brother to smile and suggest that perhaps it had worked. The door slammed shut and the light in the spare room went out. Utter darkness.

I panicked, and I’m a little ashamed to say I screamed for help, the fear of being trapped welling up inside me. I could hear my brother fumbling around. He told me to be calm. I wasn’t. He told me to look for the door. I couldn’t find it, disorientated by the dark as if the room had changed somehow. It felt smaller, cramped and stifled.

Then, in the darkness, I heard it. My brother clearly did too, as he swore under his breath asking if the sound was coming from me. My voice wavered and I simply said ‘no’. Behind us, in the gloom of that little room, we could hear breathing. The breaths were long and somehow carried threat with them. And then, a horrible inhaled gasp, followed by the deafening scream of a man right behind me.

Terror overcame me, and as I finally found the door, my brother knocked into me in the pitch black and headed out into the hallway, with me quickly behind. In the fevered escape I lost my footing and managed to fall onto my side, on the floor directly in front of the open door to the blackness of the spare room.

The wind had been knocked out of me, but if I could have I would have cried out in horror at what I saw. The light in the spare room flicked back on, revealing a figure standing in the room, facing the wall. It began to turn slowly, and as it did I could see what I can only describe as a face, its skin bloated and tinged with a bruised blue, and its hair oily and straggled.

I kicked the door shut, and as my brother helped me to my feet we ran out of the flat, only to hear the spare room door open behind us, and running footsteps heading once more into the kitchen. We did not look back.

I haven’t slept in the flat since then, in fact I could only step foot in it to retrieve some of my things when accompanied by my brother and two of my friends; during the day. I refuse to sleep there, and between my family and myself have managed to find the money needed to rent elsewhere while I wait to sell the place. It’s further from work and the area isn’t as nice, but I really don’t care.

After speaking to the couple who lived there before me, you might already suspect what they told me in way of an explanation. They too heard footsteps occasionally in the hall at night, but nothing else of consequence, and happily lived there with their young son for a few years. What they could tell me was that they had bought the flat from an estate agent and knew fine well the history, but not being superstitious, they knew they had a bargain on their hands if they ignored what had happened.

The original owner had lived there by himself. By all accounts he was a very private person, and so no one in the building knew him very well. One night a terrible scream was heard from the man’s flat (and believe me, it is his). When neighbours went to his door he did not answer, and soon afterwards the smell of gas filled the hallway outside. The emergency services were called and the building evacuated. When they entered the flat they found the man’s bedroom in disarray, his belongings torn and broken up. In the kitchen they discovered his dead body, kneeling on the floor, half sticking out of the oven, his skin blue due to asphyxiation.

I’ve thought about the entire events often, wondered why the man’s ghost still lingers there. I’ve wondered why he made his presence felt more strongly to me than those who lived there before me. Most of all there is one question, for some unknown reason, which never seems to leave me. What made him scream in the first place?

[Deleted_Account]

 

[HorrorMovieRei]

http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/My_Dead_Girlfriend_Keeps_Messaging_Me_on_Facebook

 

Just read this, thought it was pretty good

[Deleted_Account]

Park Ranger warning you to stay safe and leave your flashlights at home

 

 

[Deleted_Account]

Edit.

Edited May 10, 2017 by Piper Maru

[geo]

 

Well I'm back with a story that happened to me maybe 10+ years ago. I had a triggered memory yesterday driving by a park that I used to go for fun runs (jogging).

 

This park surrounds some sort of invisible marsh where the grass in the marsh is eyeball high. On the outskirts are empty grass fields and tree lines, its a wilderness area with trails through it, but nothing rugged like mountains, its all flatland. On the outside of the tree lines are houses. It is nothing special.

 

When I used to go for fun runs there, it was daytime and somewhat busy there was always people around. Men on bikes, husky ladies with strollers, hot ladies with dogs. I stopped going there after I moved. Three years after I stopped going there I had a bad day, so the next day I so happened to drive by it so I figured I should go for a walk to diversify my life.

 

During fun runs, I'd wear actual shorts and T-shirts to jog, but I was in boots, jeans and a T-shirt. So I'm sure I looked out of place. This wilderness park closes at sundown, but because it was the summer I went at dusk which still meant sundown wouldn't happen for maybe an hour. Instead of running, I walked, because I just had a shower, I was in jeans and boots, I didn't want to ruin anything.

 

Twice on this particular walk I saw a bunny in the middle of the path. Then when I got close to it, the bunny would scurry away into the shrubs.

 

With it so close to sundown, it was cold even in the summer and there was just no one there. It was vacant, but after 10 minutes into my walk hike some girl passed by me. She looked anywhere between 15 and 25. She wasn't jogging, she was walking. Five minutes behind me I look back and she's following me from a great distance away still on the path, not hiding or anything just far behind me. These paths are all built in circles so there are no dead ends, imagine four giant circles linked together with each circle being 3 miles around. Each exit path has a parking lot and rest stop area. The paths are wide enough to fit cars, but to prevent cars from driving through, there are posts. maintenance and cops must have a key or something to lower the posts so they can drive through.

 

The girl followed me for around 30 minutes. There were a few side trails I went and she followed me. That alone felt a bit creepy, but as the sun went down and I got worried I wouldn't make it back to my car before the place got locked down or something. While there are a few parking lots connected by a park road there are only 2 exits out to the main roads.

 

At some point I looked behind me and she was five feet behind me instead of say fifty feet away. Since she had my attention she asked if she could walk with me. I kind of thought that's the setup for a mugging or something. Then she explained how "when it gets dark out that's when the flashlight people come out to scare you" and how "if I walk with you maybe they won't bother me." Well that was pretty strange, but I still kind of thought she was a distraction to a mugging.

 

We walked. She saw a sign, asked if the sign has always been there... yeah its always been there. She wants to find her car and I calculated her car was like 4 miles north and I was pretty blown away that she'd be that far away. My car was 2 miles north. I should point out all this time, there's no one else on the trail. No one else is dumb enough to go for a hike an hour or half an hour before sundown.

 

When we arrived at my parking lot and my car. I told her to get in and I'll drive her to her car. She refused, because she wasn't getting into a car with a stranger. That's a good response and well I should have left her. She knew her way to her car.

 

As we continued it was dark and shadowy under the trees, things were moving. Shadows would appear and disappear, but I figured out it was bunnies standing at the side of the paths and then when we'd get close they'd run away.

 

So it was getting creepy and right around sun down. She told me that when we find her car she could drive me to my car. I was fine with that.

 

Here's the thing, after she said that, we saw what she called the flashlight people. Three flashlights held up tall, trekking through the woods rather than the path. She went nuts and just ran into the woods the opposite direction... with no light I may add. They didn't even see us from what I could tell. Well without her I figured I'm not going into the woods to look for her, its a trap or a prank. So I kept right on walking. My intention was to find the next parking lot exit and walk the park road to my parking lot because fuck walking in the dark.

 

I could still see, it was dark, but my eyes got used to it and I still had a bit of flashlight power on my phone. The three people with flashlights were well behind me and oblivious to where I was, but with that said three more people lit flashlights in front of me. All three held their flashlights above their head trying to blind me with them. There's a way cops hold flashlights at their eye level, but they were holding them above their heads. They started yelling at me "what am I doing out here?" "Don't you know this place closes at sundown?" Then said something like they're going to arrest me and I know a teen voice when I hear one, so I didn't believe they were cops.

 

So I figured fuck it I would go back on the path to where my car was since the girl was gone. As I walked, they followed me, heckling me and taunting me. About three or four times one of them yelled "get him!" Nothing happened. Plus some people like myself look for excuses to hit people. They continued to keep their flashlights above their heads. It was so weird, but they gave up after five minutes of it, turned off their flashlights and split up into the woods. At that point I figured they were going to flank me and appear in front of me to see what I would do if I could get corralled back toward where the girl's car was. That's what I did. i didn't even wait for them to appear again I ran the other way toward the parking lot with the girl's car.

 

I arrived at the parking lot with only one car in the lot... and there she was driving away without even noticing me. Her car seemed far too good for that girl to be driving it, but whatever. It could have been her dad's. See at this point I had a choice, go back into the path and walk in the near dark or stay on the park's road and take the long way around to my car. Plus I didn't know the park road as I always stopped at the first parking lot from where I enter off the main road rather than the second lot.

 

I made my choice and I took the park road rather than go blind through the forest with a dying cell phone. On my pleasant walk along the park's interior road, a police car pulled up from behind me and proceeded to flash its red and blue lights as if I was being pulled over. The cop told me it was sun down, I needed to leave, so hop in the back and he'll give me a ride. I told him about six or more people in the woods with flashlights and then what luck he saw the flashlights in the forest. So he decided to call it in, then get out on foot and go after them. He told me to wait there.

 

After five minutes of waiting I figured now its getting dark like about too dark to see. So I either wait for the cop to come back or I can run 10 or so minutes and hope to find the first parking lot. I whipped out my near dead cell phone and ran to my own parking lot.

 

Driving out to the main road, there was a second cop car with its lights on sitting blocking the exit. There was no one in the car, it was there. So I decided to do a 50 point turn about in the road to go back the other way to a second exit. On my way to that second exit I passed by the first cop car again. It was still there with no one else there. When I reached that second exit it was still open. That concluded the adventure.

 

I ended up going there the next day at the same time to see if something similar would happen. Nope. Nothing. In fact there were a lot more people there and it seemed more normal and safe. It could have been a Wednesday night thing. There you go. There's my creepy pasta I had completely forgotten about. Getting followed in the woods by teens with flashlights.

[MTF Sergeant]

I guess this ain't scary.

 

 

Before the dawn of man and beast, the Earth Realm was ruled by the Ancients. Mystical beings transcending life, death, time and reality as most mere mortals know it. The days of life and light were ruled by darkness and chaos.

The Ancients roamed the plane of existence and lived on the blood of conquest and rule over lesser entities. There were many of these ruling archaic spirits, however one-by-one over many millennia, their greed and arrogance saw them turn against each other.

They sought blood, destruction and dominance over their own kind and many immortal sentients met their demise as a result. The consolidation of the remaining power saw the Ancient's rule divided amongst the remaining three.

Azrael, Kfafta and Vlaew frequently exerted their wrath and cruelty through their ferocity towards each other's dominion. The blood of many was spilled as the remaining three fought against his brother for the spoils and power that each possessed.

Upon the battlefield, Azrael's forces reduced the armies of Vlaew to dust, culminating in long awaited glorious victory. But his compassion towards his defeated brother saw Vlaew get a reprieve from the certain destruction that he faced.

Knowing that defeating Kfafta's forces would require many millennia of fighting, Azrael appointed Vlaew as his general - knowing that the power of two Ancients was enough to win undisputed control.

In a final bloody battle in the crimson sky, the penultimate confrontation played out. Kfafta, not realizing that Vlaew was still corporeal and leading Azrael's armies, made the grave mistake of underestimating the strength of his opponent.

The losses took the Kfafta forces by surprise, and before they had time to regroup, Vlaew had plunged his sword deep into the heart of his defenses. Azrael's forces streamed into the last stronghold of Kfafta, slaying every sentient entity that stood against them.

Kfafta's armies were eventually defeated, leaving Vlaew triumphant in his victory. His subordinates fought ferociously and they were to be rewarded with a unified rule over the Earth Realm.

Azrael, holding no compassion towards Kfafta as he had Vlaew, destroyed the life force of his nemesis and claimed the kingdom as his own. With his totalitarian control, he decided that Vlaew was no longer of use to him.

Unfortunate for him, he did not count on his armies siding with the powerful Vlaew. In a furious realization of this challenge in the face of certain Ascension, the Earth Realm shook with the power of Azrael’s anger towards his army’s treachery.

Vlaew showed no mercy towards his brother, knowing that he could not make the same mistake that Azrael made. Without hesitation, Vlaew had Azrael slain by his own ethereal hand – and he assumed total control of the consolidated kingdom of the Earth Realm.

The tyrannical rule of Vlaew lasted for millennia with no one to challenge him. But conspire certain forces did against the sole remaining Ancient. They bode their time, recruiting supporters of the overthrowing.

Vlaew was ambushed and overpowered by his trusted advisors – but knowing that only one of his own kind could destroy him, he had his corporeal presence removed to exist for eternity in the demonic spirit form.

The remaining world of archaic lessors was dispersed and was governed under each individual’s rule. It was true chaos with no joint agenda.

Vlaew – without corporeal form and no longer able to physically alter the world, roamed the Earth Realm for the rest of existence. Diminished in power, he still had many followers to which he would spiritually combine his life force with. Instead of existing as a single powerful entity, Vlaew becoming subversively indestructible by being many. He called his new legion of existence Exmortis.

 

 

The appearance of soul-bearing creatures of flesh and blood saw in the new rule within the Earth Realm. Over many thousands of years, man destroyed countless lesser entities – some very powerful, even some who helped overthrow Vlaew’s previous rule.

While man was physically weak in comparison to the entities of dark times, their souls gave them many advantages that the Earth Realm entities were reduced to minimal numbers.

The world once ruled with strength and might was now in the hands of the weak. The handful of ancient entities sought to influence and control humanity for mutual gain. Vlaew’s Exmortis prospered where other entities failed purely because of their strength in numbers and the wisdom of the mighty Ancient himself.

Together as one, the Exmortis was worshipped widely in the world of man, but human nature led to conflict and the cult of Vlaew was tragically culled and almost forgotten.

With every passing human year, Vlaew’s influence and power in the Earth realm was diminished until all that remained was what was recorded in the written form. After the death of the final disciple, Vlaew and the Exmortis slept until the day humanity was ready for the anointment of his hand.

 

 

Prophecy and the word of Vlaew speaks of the coming of the Hand of Repose. Anointed with the blood of five, a selected man will transcend humanity and evolve to become the link between the Earth Realm and Vlaew’s Exmortis. Awakening the Ancient from his slumber, the hand will be charged with the power to bring about the uprising of the Cult of Exmortis once again.

Blood, wrath, and strength will once again rule the Earth Realm, and Vlaew will walk tall and rule amongst mortals as it was meant to be in the time before light and life.

 

Translated from the Aramaic Cult of Exmortis scrolls, the rite of charging the hand reads as follows.

Devoured the crimson life of five

Marks of Vlaew given to thee

Mirrored below the soul survive

What was, what is and what will be.

 

 

 

 

[Deleted_Account]

 

[MTF Sergeant]

A lot of these stories start off with, “I don’t know why I’m writing this.” Well, this isn’t one of them tales. In fact, I knew full well I should be writing this, even though I was told not to. I can’t in good conscious not tell this story.

It all started on the third day of submissions to the local Horror short film festival in western Sydney. It wasn’t a large festival and there had not been many entries, however, some of the films entered were actually pretty good. They ranged from thrillers, action, to science fiction, and it didn’t matter in this festival what genre it was. All that mattered was that the film did not go over 15 minutes and it was scary to say the least. Now, this is where the tale starts. There was one film submitted that did send chills down our spines, striking us at our very core. Maybe it was just the way it was filmed, a shaky camera style just like that of the Blair witch project… Or maybe it was the fact that it was filmed in a first person’s point of view style, but in truth this didn’t matter.

“Who submitted this one,” John asked, inspecting a brown envelope with the words “The Filmmaker” written across the front in a faded red ink. John was the head of our committee for the screening of these movies. As he opened up the envelope and peeked inside, he noticed there was only a single USB drive within. It was pure black which made some of us giddy.

“This could be exciting. An unknown movie for a horror film festival. Someone is actually making an effort to scare us,” I said with a light laugh. We all loved horror films, the jumps, the scares, and the gore, all of it. Some could say it had made a lot of us immune to the sight of gore. Hell, if anything we truly enjoyed it.

“Hurry up and plug it in, I want to watch it,” John would say, passing the USB drive over to me.
I took the USB drive and plugged it into my laptop and no sooner as I had plugged it in, the movie started to play as if on auto play, adding a small hint to the creepiness which had already brought a smile to my face. The screen went black, and the title, “The Filmmaker” appeared in red writing across the center of the screen before distorting to show us the setting. The movie seemed to start off in a bedroom. It almost looked like that of any teenager’s room, a boy’s room to be exact. The time was late at night and the boy seemed to be fast asleep in his bed. After a moment, the covers flicked off him as he laid down across the sheets, spread out in the same manner as a star. The background music was eerie, sending chills down my spine.

The Film had been shot in point of view style, as if watching the scene from that character’s eyes. We could only guess it was the eyes of the killer in this horror film. We watched as he approached the side of the bed, the camera tilting slightly as if the killer had tilted his head while looking at this boy. I watched intently, gripping at my pants, wondering how this was to turn out.

“Wake up, Bradly. It’s show time…”
The words range out in a sadistic melody from the Filmmaker’s mouth, and then a hand was lashed out into view. The hand of the Filmmaker moved to the mouth of the boy, causing him to wake abruptly in a panic. The boy struggled, only to find his hands were lashed down. The camera slowly moved up and down to give us a look at the hands of the boy. They had been zip tied and a slight snicker left the lips of the Filmmaker.

“Shh, shh, shh… Now, now, Bradly, don’t you remember? Didn’t you say you wanted to be a star? I hope you remembered your lines.”
A slight chuckle could be heard as the Filmmaker spoke again, his words sounding twisted and sadistic as he had brought up a finger over his mouth to make the “shh” sounds. Bradley struggled. His arms flailed about but could not see, set them free. It was no use, the zip ties were too tight. We could all see this and listened as the Filmmaker snickered louder. It was then that a knife had been brought into view before the camera, showing it off before us. Bradly stopped struggling now. His eyes grew wide as a muffled scream of anguish roared in his throat as he tried but found he was unable to escape.

“The boy is going to die isn’t he,” I spoke, “The first victim…”
I moved in closer to the screen. My eyes had been glued to this movie from the start; just the way it was delivered, the style of filming made it look all the more real. This Filmmaker, the director, I thought was a genius with the way he had filmed this, how the actor of Bradly seemed to show true terror and fear in his eyes and in the muffles of his screams.

“Calm down Bradly, it’s just a movie. This won’t hurt one bit,” Spoke the Filmmaker again as he had moved the cured blade of the hunting knife over the face of Bradly just to have the blade trace along his jaw line.
“Shhh, shh, I promise it will all be over soon.”

We had all fallen silent at this time, we had watched and nothing more as the sharp blade glanced over Bradly’s bare skin. The boy seemed to be sweating now as the camera moved in closely, just to give us a better look.

“Remember, this is your big scene, your big finale. Now don’t mess this up. No one likes an actor that forgets their lines, Bradly. Now… Make sure not to scream. It’ll ruin the take and we will have to do this all over again.”

The Filmmaker snickered. The sounds of this man’s voice sent shivers down my spine. What was this feeling I was getting? It was a cold chill, a chill one gets when they feel like they are being watched. This was just a movie, and yet, I seemed to be getting more scared by the second… I was getting more crept out and disturbed as this short film continued. Something was not sitting right with this one. Something in the back of my mind felt like something in this movie was off, but I just couldn’t quite place my finger on what it was.

We continued to watch as the Filmmaker moved the knife from Bradly’s chin. The blade now ran down lightly and slowly over the neck of the boy, making a slight cut over his neck as it glanced down again to his chest. A slither of blood trickled from the open wound on the boy’s neck as Bradly clenched his eyes shut, the sobbing growing louder in panic, but had almost been completely shut out by the insane snickering of the film maker.

“Take one. And action…” That sinister voice spoke again and as the Filmmaker spoke, the knife plunged deep into Bradly’s chest, causing blood droplets to shoot out from the wound, making little droplets from the impact. More blood oozed out of the open wound from the boy’s chest and a loud muffled scream emitted Bradly’s throat. The knife then jerked down to slice the entire midsection of Bradly open, the laceration causing more blood to spill over the boy’s bare torso and onto the bed, staining the sheets and the hand of the Filmmaker.

I had to look away… This was just wrong, but why? It was just a movie wasn’t it? Yeah… Just a movie. The Filmmaker pulled the knife from Bradly, setting it aside as more muffled screams of agony tried to escape the boy’s mouth. I closed my eyes and covered my ears. A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead as I could barely hear the Filmmaker’s insane laughter. I looked back, glancing up and peeking my eyes open to watch. The Filmmaker had moved to pull out an old sock to shove into the boy’s mouth. He had gagged Bradly, and they boy continued to struggle on the bed as more and more blood flowed from the open wound. The blood stained hands of the Filmmaker moved up to mockingly pet the top of Bradly’s head. His touch almost seemed gentle, but we knew that wasn’t the case as Bradly struggled to move away.

I turned away again, quickly reaching out for a trash can, and throwing up into it. I looked up for a moment as I heard two others scream and run out of the room in sheer panic. Only John and I were left. John was lost for words, his eyes wide and full of terror as he watched the screen. His mouth quivered at what he was seeing. I kept my eyes away. I couldn’t watch anymore of this sickening movie especially when I heard the sound of cracking and snapping. I could only guess that was the sound of Bradly’s bones breaking. The muffled screams where loud and piercing as I had placed my hands over my ears once more to try and block them out. I was disgusted. I was terrified, and then the screams stopped. The snickering stopped. Only a thud was heard, thumping away to the rhythm of a heartbeat…

Thump, thump, thump.

I didn’t dare look up. “Is it over, John? Is the film over?”

“No…… no it’s still going” John would reply.

I slowly and hesitantly turned to look up at the screen, and my eyes widened in horror. Bradly was dead, his chest ripped open by this twisted man and now the man started laughing and snickering uncontrollably. The image of Bradly… The way we had seen it… I will spare you the details. No one should ever have to see such a sight.

“The. End…”

Those were the last words we had heard from the Filmmaker. It was almost a whisper before the credits had started scrolling down on a black screen in red writing. The strange thing was, there were only two names. The first one was Bradly Harkin. The second one was Christian Paige. The name Chris appeared several times in the credits, as the writer, actor and editor of the project. Then we saw that one tag attached to his name… Director. Was someone so sick and twisted to put their own name in the credits, openly admitting to murder?

“That wasn’t real… tell me it wasn’t real John,” I said quietly, but loud enough for John to hear.

“I-I don’t know… I just…. Fuck, I don’t know. What the fuck did we just watch?”

We looked at each other before I went to grab that black USB drive from the computer. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, but I couldn’t help it. I had reached for the USB and was about to pull it out when the screen faded once again to another scene to the film. There was more? Why is there more?

This scene showed a bathroom in front of a mirror. Along the mirror written in what only John and I could guess was blood, had the words “To be continued”. Behind the blood in the reflection of the mirror, we had seen him. A man, standing there with the knife in his hand, that same knife. He was wearing jeans and a long sleeved grey shirt, with a black vest over his torso. He wore the grey shirt zipped up and even sported a grey hood over his head, Brown hair could be seen peeking through the hood and on his face, despite that insane smirking expression, were a pair of black goggles. They were similar to what the character Riddick wears, but out of the right eye of this twisted fucker was a glowing red light. It was almost as if the red LED of the camera recording was shining through the black goggles.

“I’m coming for you next. To be continued”

The screen went black and we could do nothing but just sit there in shock, silence and horror. We had wondered if this was some practical joke. We wished it was. Hell we hoped for it. Sweat coated my forehead, and by the look of panic on everyone else, we had knew, in the deepest of our hearts of hearts that this was no prank. I opened another tab on the computer, and right away I went to research this Bradly Harkin. What I found made my jaw drop and my eyes widen; police reports on an 18 year old boy, murdered in his room. His chest had been ripped open as he had bled to death, out tied to his bed. So it had been true. “This can’t be right, we didn’t just see this,” I called out, running my hands over my face.

I have not slept since. In fact, I’m typing this out right now from my home. It has been 3 days since we watched the movie, and yet those words, “To be continued” linger in my head…

[Deleted_Account]

 

[Deleted_Account]

edit.

Edited October 11, 2017 by Piper Maru

[Tindrone]

On 3/13/2016 at 8:35 AM, Megalyth said:

Check out the story Psychosis, it's pretty freaky.

 

On 3/22/2016 at 7:38 PM, Piper Maru said:

 

 

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/3lll1h/confessions_of_a_deep_sea_diver/

 

 

 

On 3/29/2016 at 3:03 PM, HorrorMovieGuy said:

This is a pretty good one
http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/The_Disappearance_of_Ashley,_Kansas

 

On 10/2/2016 at 2:16 PM, Piper Maru said:

^

Amazing!
 

 

 

On 4/13/2017 at 4:30 PM, Piper Maru said:

 

Five of my all time favorites. :)

 

My absolute favorite would have to be the "Penpal" series by 1000vultures, It's a shame not many people outside of the Creepypasta community are aware of this masterpiece. Anyway here is the first story "Footsteps" it's one of the weaker stories IMO but it's still a great story.

 

Spoiler

 

In a quiet room if you press your ear against a pillow you can hear your heartbeat. As a kid, the muffled, rhythmic beats sounded like soft footsteps on a carpeted floor, and so as a kid almost every night – just as I was about to drift off to sleep – I would hear these footsteps and I would be ripped back to consciousness, terrified.

For my entire childhood I lived with my mother in a fairly nice neighborhood that was in a transitional phase – people of lower economic means were gradually moving in, and my mother and I were two of these people. We lived in the kind of house you see being transported in two pieces on the interstate, but my mom took good care of it. There were a lot of woods surrounding the neighborhood that I would play in and explore during the day, but at night – as things often do to a kid – they took on a more sinister feeling. This coupled with the fact that, due to the nature of our house, there was a fairly large crawlspace underneath filled my mind with imaginary monsters and inescapable scenarios which would consume my thoughts when I was awoken by the footsteps.

I told my mom about the footsteps and she said that I was just imagining things; I persisted enough that she blasted my ears with water from a turkey baster once just to placate me, since I thought that would help. Of course it didn’t. Despite all the creepiness and footsteps the only weird thing that ever happened was that every now and then I would wake up on the bottom bunk despite having gone to sleep on the top, but this wasn’t really weird since I’d sometimes get up to piss or get something to drink and could remember just going back to sleep on the bottom bunk (I’m an only child so it didn’t matter). This would happen once or twice a week, but waking up on the bottom bunk wasn’t too terrifying. But one night I didn’t wake up on the bottom bunk.

I had heard the footsteps but was too far gone to be woken up by them, and when I was awoken it wasn’t from the sound of footsteps or a nightmare, but because I was cold. Really cold. When I opened my eyes I saw stars. I was in the woods. I sat up immediately and tried to figure out what was going on. I thought I was dreaming, but that didn’t seem right, though neither did me being in the woods. There was a deflated pool float right in front of me – one of those ones shaped like a shark. This only added to the surreal feeling, but after a while it seemed like I just wasn’t going to wake up because I wasn’t asleep. I stood up to orient myself, but I didn’t recognize these woods. I played in the woods by my house all the time and so I knew them really well, but if these weren’t the same woods then how could I get out? I took a step and felt a shooting pain in my foot which knocked me back to where I had just been laying. I had stepped on a thorn. By the light of the moon I could see that they were everywhere. I looked at my other foot but it was fine, and as a matter of fact so was the rest of me. I didn’t have another scratch on me and I wasn’t even that dirty. I cried for a little bit and then stood back up.

I didn’t know which way to go so I just picked a direction. I resisted the urge to call out since I wasn’t sure I wanted to be found by who or what might be out there

I walked for what seemed like hours.

I tried to walk in a straight line, and tried to course-correct when I had to take detours, but I was a kid and I was afraid. There weren’t any howls or screams, and only once did I hear any noise that scared me. It sounded like a crying baby. I think now that it was just a cat, but I panicked. I ran veering in different directions to avoid big thicks of bushes and collapsed trees. And I was paying close attention to where I stepped because by that point my feet were in pretty bad shape. I paid too much attention to where I was stepping and not enough to where those steps were leading because not long after hearing the cry I saw something that filled me with a kind of despair I haven’t experienced since. It was the pool float.

I was only 10 feet from where I had woken up.

This wasn’t magic or some supernatural space-bending. I was lost. Up until that moment I thought more about getting out of the woods than how I got in, but being back at the beginning caused my mind to swim. I wasn’t even sure that these were my woods; I had only been hoping that they were. Had I run in a huge circle around that spot, or did I just get turned around and start making my way back? How was I going to get out? At the time I thought the north star was just the brightest star, and so I looked and found the brightest one and followed it.

Eventually things started to look more familiar and when I saw “the ditch” (a dirt ditch my friends and I would have dirt-clod wars in) I knew I had made it out. By that point I was walking really slowly because my feet hurt so much, but I was so happy to be so close to home that I broke into a light jog. When I actually saw the roof of my house over a neighboring, lower-set house I let out a light sob and ran faster. I just wanted to be home. I had already decided that I wouldn’t say anything because I had no idea what I could possibly say. I would get back in the house somehow, clean up, and get in bed. My heart sunk as I rounded the corner and my house came fully into view.

Every light in the house was on.

I knew my mom was up, and I knew I would have to explain (or try to explain) where I had been, and I couldn’t even figure out where to start. My run became a jog which became a walk. I saw her silhouette through the blinds, and although I was worried about how to explain things to her that didn’t matter to me at that point. I walked up the couple of steps to the porch and put my hand on the doorknob and turned. Right before I pushed it open two arms wrapped around me and pulled me back. I screamed as loud as I could: “MOM! HELP ME! PLEASE! MOM!” The feeling of being so close to being safe and then being physically pulled away from it filled me with a kind of dread that is, even after all these years, indescribable.

The door I had been torn away from opened, and a flash of hope shot through my heart. But it wasn’t my mom.

It was a man, and he was enormous. I thrashed around and kicked at the shins of the person holding me while also trying to get away from the person who had just come out of my house. I was scared, but I was furious. “LET ME GO! WHERE IS SHE? WHERE’S MY MOM? WHAT’D YOU DO TO HER!?” As my throat stung from screaming and I was drawing in another breath I became aware of a sound that had been present for longer than I had perceived it. “Honey, please calm down. I’ve got you.” It sounded like my mom.

The arms loosened and set me down, and as man approaching me blocked out the porch light with his head I noticed his clothes. He was a cop. I turned to face the voice behind me and saw that it really was my mom. Everything was ok. I began to cry, and the three of us went inside.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Sweetie. I was worried I’d never see you again.” By that point she was crying too.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened. I just wanted to come home. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, just don’t ever do that again. I’m not sure me or my shins could take it…”

A little laughter broke through my sobs and I smiled a bit. “Well I’m sorry for kicking you, but why’d you have to grab me like that?!”

“I was just afraid that you’d run away again.”

I was confused. “What do you mean?”

“We found your note on your pillow,” she said, and pointed at the piece of paper that the police officer was sliding across the table.

I picked up the note and read it. It was a “running away” letter. It said that I was unhappy never wanted to see her or any of my friends again. The police officer exchanged a few words with my mom on the porch while I stared at the letter. I didn’t remember writing a letter. I didn’t remember anything about any of this. But even if I sometimes went to the bathroom at night and didn’t remember, or even if I could have gone into the woods on my own, even if all that could have been true, the only thing I knew at that point was,

“This isn’t how you spell my name . . . I didn’t write this letter.”

 

[Deleted_Account]

Found this on reddit.

 

Saw a lot of weird shit over 2 deployments in Afghanistan… Best one was the “ghosts” that first showed up couple hundred yards outside the hesco barriers.

 

First time (a little after dusk):

 

Random PVT: “Hey there’s a dude out there” Me: “Where?” Random PVT: “Right FUCKING there. See?” Me: “You’re high, I don’t see shit.” Random PVT (stabbing an outstretched finger into the desert): “RIGHT THERE. LOOK. SEE HIM? THAT’S A FUCKING GUY.”

 

Now I don’t have the greatest vision in the world, but I vaguely see a dark blob in the direction he’s pointing.

 

Me: “You sure? Looks like a fucking shadow.” Random PVT: “SGT WE GOT A FUCKING GUY OUT HERE” SGT: “What’s he doing?” Random PVT: “Just standing there” SGT: “Where’d he come from?” Random PVT: “dunno he just popped up” (SGT comes over to have a look) SGT: “who’s this mother fucker?” PVT: “I dunno, I was talking to (Me) and looked back and he’s just standing there.”

 

So we watch this “person” for about 3hrs, who just stands there, motionless, with its back to us. You could put optics on it and see it was a person, adult male, average height and build. Best part: we “borrowed” a thermal monocular and this fucker doesn’t register in it. ZERO FUCKING HEAT SIGNATURE. Then randomly, just poof, gone. Random PVT spends next 6 weeks telling everyone about the ghost we saw.

 

Fast forward about 6months, out on some BS patrol and driver calls out 2 guys couple hundred yards standing on top this little berm (my asshole puckers waiting for the IED to kick off). Same scenario, two guys, backs to us, frozen. LT puts eyes on ’em and calls it in. We dismount, LT calls over terp asks if he knows what’s up (genius). Terp gives blank stare and shrugs. LT decides we should go have a look-see and do some hearts-and-minds shit. I stay in the truck (which feels like 140 fucking degrees), 20min goes by LT comes back with weird look on his face and says “we’re outta here.”

 

Later that day I asked another guy WTF happened, he says they get within 50yds of aforementioned “persons” and, presto, gone. I ask “what do you mean, gone?” and he just looks at me with this blank stare and says “gone. they were there, and then they weren’t. weird huh?”

 

Lots of other weird shit, mostly at night. Voices, wailing, screaming, whispering, phantoms in NVGs. I chalk most of it up to lack of sleep and high stress environment. Those “persons” though, hard to explain a mass hallucination like that though.

[Deleted_Account]

A fantastic rendition of Ted The Caver.

 

 

[Deleted_Account]

It’s getting close to that time of the year!

 

 

[Deleted_Account]

 

[Deleted_Account]

Edit.

Edited August 25, 2019 by Delete