• The Generally Just Creepy Stuff Thread V2: Hyperrealism, Content, or GTFO.
    2,555 replies, posted
[QUOTE=Raiskauskone V2;29316141]yo this is what I had in mind for the OP you tosser [media][URL]http://img859.imageshack.us/img859/2646/herobrine.jpg[/URL][/media] [media][URL]http://youtube.com/watch?v=ulF6JK9zUa8[/URL][/media][/QUOTE] Albeit being late, I'll put them in the OP.
[QUOTE=Raiskauskone V2;29316141]yo this is what I had in mind for the OP you tosser [media][URL]http://img859.imageshack.us/img859/2646/herobrine.jpg[/URL][/media] [media][URL]http://youtube.com/watch?v=ulF6JK9zUa8[/URL][/media][/QUOTE] why do you keep crying because you didnt get to make the thread? ps an old shitty sperg creepypasta and an old shitty sperg screamer, good job champ
[QUOTE=The Mighty Boatman;29335905]why do you keep crying because you didnt get to make the thread? ps an old shitty sperg creepypasta and an old shitty sperg screamer, good job champ[/QUOTE] Because mostly everyone agreed on him creating it, and he made the first one.
dude, reading about the far lands on the minecraft wiki sounds a lot like creepy pasta. [quote]There are many effects that will be noticed after traveling millions of blocks away from the center of the map. The very first effect that will be noticed is the jumpy or stuttering movement of the map, which isn't directly related to the Far Lands themselves but instead to floating-point precision errors. This jumpy movement is notable even at 500,000 m from X/Z 0. Players will experience extreme framerate drops and very high CPU usage, which will continue until Minecraft freezes completely. The framerate drops do not occur in multiplayer servers. As the player journeys even deeper into the Far Lands, the effects worsen to the point where the game is unplayable. At X/Z ±32,000,000[2], block physics stop functioning correctly. Lighting doesn't work and the blocks, although they appear to be there, aren't solid. If the player tries to walk on these blocks, he or she will fall into the Void. Because of this, it's impossible to get even close to X/Z ±34,359,738,368 or ±2,147,483,648 without the assistance of editors or mods. Additionally, as seen in some of the screenshots, sand and gravel fall in an odd pattern. Only one in every four blocks responds to gravity. This may also be due to floating-point precision errors, as the falling sand and gravel are entities using floating-point numbers for positions. [/quote]
[QUOTE=Shostakovich;29308204]Nice creepypasta, Eudoxia. Edit: What is a pageking? Incoming Content Dump.....[/QUOTE] i didnt like god's mouth, i thought it was sorta hokey i liked a similar story, the cave although the ending to it is sorta hokey too, the rest is creepy [quote] [B]One[/B] There were originally nine of us scheduled for the spelunking expedition, but Murphy’s Law dictated that two of the group had to pull out due to various issues. It was a disappointment having fewer members to share in the experience, but then again, there were benefits – less logistical problems, more space and so on. I, personally, wasn’t that affected by it; while most of us were close friends, I hadn’t known those two well. Our rendezvous was the cave entrance, at the crack of dawn. I was the first one there, as usual; those who knew me often remarked at my attention to punctuality. Slowly, the rest of the group arrived, parking their cars and unloading the equipment that we had organised between us. As the expedition leader, I had the emergency provisions on me – first aid kit, flare gun, GPS locator. It seemed quite odd that a flare gun would be taken into an underground location, but I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it. We assembled at the cave entrance. There was Jason, Alex, Karen, Samantha, Vincent, Ashley and, of course, myself. Alex and I were experienced spelunkers, while the rest had varying skill levels: moderate (Karen, Vincent and Samantha), poor (Jason) and a first-timer (Ashley). Normally it was against my instinct to take a first-timer into an unexplored cave and in such a large group, but he had promised to obey every command I gave him and had agreed to carry the most cumbersome equipment on the safe parts of the trek. The cave loomed in front of us. It was typically dark and rather foreboding. Not for the first time, I wondered why it was, according to every available record of local geological sites, unexplored. Perhaps it was the isolated location, or the fact that until recently, there had been no way for vehicles to access it through the surrounding forest. “Are you sure it’s alright?” Ashley nervously asked, shifting from foot to foot. His earlier bravado had deserted him. “Yes. You can’t change your mind once we’re in, so decide now.” I said flatly, turning around without waiting for an answer. He’d make his own mind up without any further input from me. The rest of the group followed me. After a few moments of apparent indecision, Ashley hurried in after the rest of us. Soon, the darkness swallowed us whole. Inside, the cave was quite larger than it appeared. It proceeded inwards for about two hundred metres and then sloped down quite quickly. As per usual, I ordered the group members to “buddy up,” a system in which the group divided into pairs and three’s and were responsible for keeping together. Ashley and I were partners, given that I was the most experienced and he was the least. It wasn’t as fun spelunking when you had to care for somebody else, but it was a necessary evil. Besides, he was a quick learner. Soon the sunlight from the cave mouth faded. “Flares out, everybody,” I ordered. One by one, the expedition members cracked the flares. As per local guidelines, each member carried two packs of thirty handheld flares. It may have been excessive, but the flares weren’t very strong and only provided enough light for the immediate area around the user. I took a glowstick from my pack and wedged it into the rock beside me. Only I carried these and they were quite stronger than the flares, able to last up to twelve hours with diminishing light after eight. I would use them to mark our trail back up. Slowly we continued down. The handheld flares lasted for fifteen minutes on average and soon we reached an edge. I ordered the group to stop five feet from the precipice, where the ground levelled out. As you may have noticed, I am a stickler for safety measures, but not without good reason. I didn’t want a death on my hands. “Ashley, crack a flare and throw it down,” I said, watching to see how he did it. Ashley withdrew a flare from his pack and lit it. Then, without moving, he tossed it forward, down the hole. I nodded in approval – he hadn’t moved forward from the five metre guideline. I crept forward to the precipice and looked into the abyss. Then I saw it. Descending into the darkness, barely half a metre from the cliff edge, was what appeared to be a staircase. [B]Two[/B] The light of the flare made one thing quite clear. It wasn’t a man-made staircase – at least, it didn’t look like one. It appeared to be hewn out of the descending rock, meaning that the original cliff would have extended further into the cave. The stairs were rough and uneven, but it was close enough for government work, as the saying goes. “What is it?” One of the group members asked from behind me. “Looks like a natural staircase of sorts,” I answered, distracted. I withdrew another glowstick from my bag and planted it at the top of the stairs. “Let’s go.” We descended cautiously, for caves are notoriously deceptive. Ahead of me, the darkness grew thicker. It seemed palpable, almost physical. As if my thoughts were true, the flares we held seemed to diminish in the face of the abyss. After fifty or so steps, I reached the bottom. That’s when I heard the crack. It sounded like a gunshot, loud and sharp. I spun at the foot of the stairs. Behind me, Jason was tumbling roughly down the last few steps, straight towards me. I spun out of the way and he crashed to the floor, moaning in agony. The rest of the group hurried towards me, concerned, as I bent to inspect the injury. It was obvious – his ankle was twisted at an unnatural angle, clearly broken. Jason’s face had rapidly lost colour. “Karen, Vincent, grab him by the arms. Careful.” I said quietly, unwilling to exacerbate the situation by panicking. They picked him up slowly, his ankle dangling grotesquely beneath him. Something glinted under the crimson light of the flares. I knew it was bone. I reached into my pack, taking out two small batons and a white bandage. “This is going to hurt,” I warned. The caution was wasted on Jason, anyway – he was half-unconscious. I grabbed his ankle and twisted. His ankle cracked again. That roused Jason from his stupor. He screamed piercingly, loudly enough to hurt my ears. Quickly, trying to not to prolong his agony, I wound the bandage around the batons, which braced either side of his leg. The screaming stopped, but not because the pain had faded. He was unconscious. “Take him up to the entrance of the cave and to the hospital. If he wakes, give him these painkillers.” I told his helpers. Karen and Vincent nodded and began the arduous climb up to the surface, holding their unconscious ward. “Shouldn’t we go with them? I mean, his ankle was-“Ashley began, but I cut him off. “No. We came this far, and we’re not going to stop now. I want to investigate this cave to the end. Remember, I told you that you couldn’t change your mind,” I said sharply, taking out my anger at letting the accident happen under my leadership on him. Ashley – known as Ash to his friends, but I never used that – fell silent. I felt a fleeting sense of guilt at my attitude. I brushed it off and spun around. Already Jason and the others were out of view. Around the group, the darkness surrounded us like a malevolent entity. The landing we were on led further into the cave for quite a while and we proceeded incident-free, thankfully. I marked our progress with the glowsticks at various intervals. Strangely, like the flares, they gave off less light the deeper we progressed. It began to unnerve me and I could tell the others noticed it too. Alex and Samantha, who were incidentally brother and sister, fell a few steps behind us. Ashley, to my right, was silent. Finally, as the flares grew ever dimmer, I saw something in the wall to my right. I called the diminished group over and cracked a new flare to provide extra light. It appeared to some sort of carving in the wall. I studied it carefully. The scene depicted a few humanoid forms on the ground. A few scratches of red seemed to indicate wounds. Various pillars around them rose to the roof of the cavern. But that wasn’t nearly the worst part. In front of the people – the victims, I now corrected myself – was a large figure. It may have had detail in the past, but only the outline remained. The body was scratched out. It was a disturbing scene. Then I looked beneath the scene and my eyes widened. It had a message. [B]Three[/B] The strange thing about the message was that it was in English. The carving looked entirely authentic; meaning that a caveman – if you’ll pardon the pun – had created it. I found it impossible that the same person could have scrawled the five words below the picture. Behind me, Alex read it out loud. “THE JACKAL AND THE CAVE . How strange,” he said. Indeed, that was the message, written entirely in capital. I dismissed the painting and turned back to the main path. It was obviously a hoax – there was no way a caveman could write in any script, let alone in English. Probably some kid mucking around in days long past. But it still made me uneasy, regardless of what I assumed it to be. If it was a hoax, then why does it look so fucking authentic? Eventually, the four of us had had our fill of ‘THE JACKAL AND THE CAVE,’ and, after Ashley had snapped a photo of it for a keepsake, we continued into the cave. I was forced to light two flares at a time, now, to ward off the choking darkness. The diminishing effectiveness of the flares puzzled me – in all my time spelunking I had never encountered anything like it. I wondered whether it was a defective bunch or some other reason – it had to have a logical, rational reason. Behind me, Alex and Samantha were still locked in conversation. I picked up snatches of the heated debate as we walked. They, like me, were still pondering the origin of the admittedly ominous cave drawing. I wished they’d drop it already, or at least quieten down. I looked to my right, saw nothing but a sloping cave wall and looked away, back to the trail. I froze. And turned. There, among the rock that I had just glanced at, was another carving. I felt sick as I hurried over to it. The red glow of the flares flickered on the wall, dancing over the picture, making it look demonic under the sparse light. It depicted a scene much like the last, except there were only two bodies on the floor. The third was in midair, seemingly held by an appendage – not quite an arm, not quite a tentacle – from the titular Jackal. The pillars around the scene appeared again, except with small, indistinct etching on them. Like before, only the faint outline of the Jackal appeared, the rest of it having been scribbled – or scratched, I couldn’t tell which – out. Underneath it was another five-word message, one that I read quickly and immediately wished I hadn’t. ‘GO BACK. THE JACKAL WAITS,” it said. I turned from the carving as the others moved in to get a good look and tried not to panic. The air felt thin and dry, much like the air in the Andes. I’d gone climbing there a few years ago, and terrible things had happened – which explained my preference for underground rocks as opposed to aerial ones – but that’s a story for another day and another time. Around me, the darkness was thick. I could no longer see without the flares in aid. Suddenly, irrationally, I knew if I stayed in this underground labyrinth for much longer I would lose my sanity. But that was the mind of an irrational man talking. I leant against the opposite wall, breathing deeply and slowly to regulate my rapid heartbeat. Spots danced in front of my eyes momentarily as I oxygenated my blood rapidly. Slowly, the panic faded, to be replaced by a sense of calm. I didn’t get overworked often, but when I did, I tended to edge towards to hysteria. Taking one last deep breath, I straightened and looked around. That’s when I realised that Ashley was gone. [B]Four[/B] That’s when I realised that Ashley was gone. Slowly, I stood, scanning the passage for any sign of Ashley. Samantha and Alex were still arguing over the cave carving. They were typically argumentative of identical twins. As Alex drew breath to continue his opinion, I stepped between them, holding my hands up in peace. “Have either of you seen Ashley? He’s gone,” I said, stepping back once I saw that they had ceased fighting and listened to what I said. “No,” they said in unison. I sighed in frustration and looked around the cavern. There was no trace of Ashley anywhere. “He couldn’t have gone far, not with that massive pack he had strapped to him,” Alex said reasonably, possibly sensing the panic that I felt. The entire expedition had had problems from the start; first the dropouts, then Jason, now this. It was like we were cursed or some other superstitious bullshit – I was a born sceptic and proud of it. “He could have only gone forward or back,” Samantha said, walking forward to the edge of the light and looking around. “We should split up and-“ “No,” I said, resolute. “We are not going to split up, under any circumstances. If Ashley went back, he’ll eventually get out of the cave by himself. So, we go forward and hope that stupid prick hasn’t done anything reckless,” I interjected flatly, turning away from the duo and proceeding into the darkness. After a shared glance, the meaning of which was undecipherable – at least to me – they followed. And so we went. As we progressed, I felt the path lead downwards. It was a marginal slope, undetectable by the naked eye, but I felt myself pushing harder into the rock with each step, thanks to the extra gravity of descent. It wasn’t of any concern to me – such natural formations were common. We proceeded ever further into the depths of the cave, calling out Ashley’s name as we went. Then I saw it. It was over to the right, like the others. It was, of course, another carving. I felt sick as I scanned it. The titular Jackal had increased in size yet again. The tentacle-appendage hybrid was shorter, as if the beast had pulled it back. The previously-held corpse was ominously absent from the scene. I tried not to think about what had happened to it. The pillars with carvings on them also appeared. As before, the Jackal had the majority of its detail erased, making it little more than an outline. However, there was detail on the edge of the beast this time. I knew the short lines represented skin, apparently leathery and cracked. Then I read the message – it was again five words long – and my eyes widened in a flash of shock and fear. “THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE,” it read. I stumbled back from the carving in fear, raising my hands in front of me as if it was alive and coming for me. As I hit the back wall, I saw Alex and Samantha close in to study the carving. They seemed unaffected by the ominous message as I had been. I gasped for breath, winded by the sudden impact of the wall against me. I tried to clear my mind, to cut through the mix of panic and fear I now felt at having read the carving – the carving which I no longer thought was the work of pranksters. I turned to my left, hoping to see Ashley. Instead, I saw the gateway. It appeared to be a stone arch, hewn from black granite. It followed the contour of the cave precisely, creating a strange effect. Carvings of various things – symbols, letters and pictures – covered the gateway, which appeared to be seamless, without join or cut. I approached it almost unwillingly, feeling my heart rise into my throat as I stared at the ground immediately behind the gateway and onwards. The walls, floor and roof of the cave from the gateway onwards were covered in fine, white dust. Alex and Samantha joined me at the edge of the gateway. We were silent, studying the gateway. I looked the top and saw yet another five-letter message carved there. “THE GATEWAY TO THE JACKAL,” read the message. And Hell with it, I thought. Then, I heard the scream. It was Ashley screaming. “We have to get to him!” Alex yelled, turning to me. With every fibre of my body, I resisted stepping through the gateway. I knew if we did, terrible things would happen. If I stepped through, I knew, sooner or later, I would meet the Jackal. But I had to know; about Ashley, the carvings, everything. I had to. So, with a deep breath and trying to still my hands, I made my choice. Together, we stepped through the gateway to Ashley and the dark beast beyond. [B]Five[/B] The first change I noticed was the ground. The fine white dust was coated on the entire cave, right past the gateway. I didn’t know the origin – it didn’t appear to be from any sort of mineral or rock I had encountered before. It was strange, but then, given the nature of the rest of the cave, that made it almost normal. The darkness grew progressively thicker as we advanced. I noticed we were running low on flares – about only twenty each. It was a problem, but not one I was particularly concerned about considering the current predicament we were in. Ashley hadn’t made any noise besides his original scream. It concerned me far more than if he had kept screaming. There could be a logical reason for him not screaming. Perhaps he ran deeper into the cave. Maybe he was conserving his voice, I thought. But I was throwing up improbable answers to cover my fear. My true thought rose unbidden to my mind: What if whatever made him scream stopped him from doing so again? I felt sick. Ahead of us, not even a hundred metres from the gateway, was a crossroads, the first such divide in the otherwise-linear path. I had appreciated the lack of divergent paths so far because it meant that we didn’t have to divide our group, stunted as it was. Appearing now, as it had, seemed like extraordinarily bad luck on our part. Seemed like. That’s the key point. Nothing in this godforsaken cave has been left to chance. Lost in my grim thoughts as I was, I didn’t notice the object ahead of us until Alex exclaimed and ran towards it. Startled, I looked up. Alex blocked my direct view of it – all I knew of it, apparently, was that it was quite large. I ran towards it. It was Ashley’s pack, ripped and torn. Blood covered it and the immediate area, in irregular patterns. Beside me, Alex stepped back tentatively, lost for words. “Something attacked him, tore the pack right from his back with incredible force. It must have injured him as well, judging by the blood,” I said quietly, surprised at how clinical and calm my assessment of the scene had been. “That’s it. I’m out. I’m going,” Alex said, turning away quickly, but not before I saw the fear in his eyes. He was terrified. Samantha nodded in agreement, turning to leave as well. I didn’t try to stop either of them. They would be back. “You won’t get a foot past the gateway,” I called to them, certain that it would prevent them from leaving. I turned back to Ashley’s pack slowly and began searching through it quickly, taking only a few items. I hesitated when my hand landed on the flare gun, but I took it and kept it in my hand. I knew from experience against various types of wildlife that it made an effective weapon. If I met anything – anything – that wasn’t Ashley, I would fire without mercy. I stood and chose the right-hand passageway. I didn’t feel scared anymore – in fact, I didn’t feel a thing. Adrenaline was coursing through my system, leaving no room for fear or anything else. It grew progressively darker. The darkness was thick and cloying – as a lifetime asthma sufferer, it reminded me of when I needed my inhaler. I knew the flares would soon be useless, regardless of whether they should have been effective. Beside me, I noticed scrawling in the dust, apparently of human origin. That, at least, was no mystery. I glanced at each in turn, almost mechanically, knowing that it couldn’t be any worse. It appeared that we weren’t the first people to stumble into this place. “I HAVE SEEN IT, AND IT BLINDED ME” “THIS IS IT’S DOMAIN” “TALLER THAN ANY HUMAN” Suddenly I stopped. The last was different from the others – in lowercase, and appeared to be freshly written. “it cut me. i’m running for my life.” Ashley’s writing. And then, as if by magic, I heard two things. A scream and a roar. Ashley. The Jackal. And they were close. I ran forwards. [B]Six[/B] I felt, rather than sensed, that I had breached into a massive cavern. To prove my theory, I impulsively punched the air to my right. If I was still in the claustrophobic cave, my hand would surely be shattered on the wall. As I expected, I hit nothing but the stagnant air of the cave. The flares provided nothing more than a dim glow. I looked at it in horror as the glow faded slowly. The fading light represented my last defence against the virulent darkness of the cave (or Cave, as I felt it should be called) and its sole inhabitant. The inhabitant some called the Jackal. The light faded completely. I was alone. The moment I was, I heard the voice. It was flat and terrible and loud. It reverberated around me, seemingly without a source or direction. I spun in the darkness – the cloying, constricting darkness – and felt my heart in my throat. I knew that if I walked backwards, I would no longer find the passageway that had led me to the lair of the Jackal. Once you entered this central cavern, there was no leaving it. Just like the carvings promised, I thought. “THIS IS MY CAVE,” it bellowed. I screamed and ran. It was a futile gesture. The voice boomed around me, terrifying in its alienness and its flat, expressionless quality. The Jackal was not human, nor was it even some revenant or ghost of a forgotten culture. It was something that had no place in this universe and something that I wished never to see. My heart thundered in my chest and my eyes vibrated – I could no longer even control my own body. I’m a prisoner in my own body. “THE OTHER ONE SCREAMED BEFORE I TOOK HIM,” boomed the Jackal, interrupting my thoughts. “Fuck you!” I screamed hysterically into the darkness around me. It was a petty rebellion – I doubted the Jackal even knew what it meant – but I felt better for it, all the same. Around me, the darkness coalesced. It’s alive, I thought. I tried to stifle a scream as an image popped into my head- thousands of millions of bugs crawling over me in the darkness biting scratching and running -and was banished moments later by the Jackal’s next terrible oration: “YOU WILL REMAIN HERE FOREVER,” it howled. I know that voice, I thought vaguely. After the voice came the footsteps. I sensed – I could both feel the tremors and hear the steps – hundreds of them around me, pounding the floor in a rapid and terrifying rhythm. Rolling thunder, I thought crazily, and laughed. What little sanity I possessed was rapidly being eroded away by- the darkness millions of bugs rolling thunder -the Jackal and its influence over the Cave and, consequently, those inside it. I doubted if Ashley was still alive, that Samantha and Alex had escaped. I didn’t even think that Karen, Vincent and Jason had escaped alive. Even as I considered this, the Jackal howled again, the flat voice echoing throughout my dark prison. “THEY ALL DIED. AS WILL YOU,” the Jackal roared in its expressionless tone, creating a queer wavering effect that hurt my ears. My throat burned from the lack of moisture. A headache pounded in my head and my ears throbbed, strangely in time with the footsteps. I’m just rolling thunder, I thought, and laughed crazily. Then, as I considered what the Jackal had said: It can read my thoughts. It was not such a fantastical idea. The Jackal had only ever spoken after I had had a thought. A coincidence? I think not, pardon the pun. I considered the mental connection an idea began to form. I stopped running and emptied my thoughts, banishing the sensory manipulations the Jackal used on me. The footsteps around me intensified but I heard none of it as I shut down my senses and opened my mind. Then, exposed without the cloak of my previous panicked thoughts, I felt it. The Jackal’s mind. It was a colossal, alien thing, like a structure too gargantuan for the human mind to comprehend. It would dwarf me, swallow my mind whole and leave me a gibbering wreck if I considered it for too long. It wasn’t even natural, let alone human. Thoughts and ideas seemed to be constructed in a fashion that was incomprehensible to the human mind. In a word, the Jackal’s presence was dark. As I felt its presence wash over me, I steeled myself and sprung the trap. Instantly, before the beast could retreat, I thought of light. A blinding supernova, more light than any human had ever witnessed. A bright inferno of light. I let the mental image expand in my mind – and over onto the Jackal’s colossal presence. I guessed that such a creature had never seen light, or if it had, it had spent so long underground, bathed in the darkness which it controlled, such light – even as an image – would do tremendous harm to it, considering that the Jackal’s mental abilities far outclassed my own. I was right. The instant the supernova-image touched the Jackal’s presence, a tremendous shriek filled the chamber, immediately overtaking all the phantom footsteps that had so tormented me. I grinned savagely despite the pain the high-pitched squeal caused my ears. That, at least, sounded vaguely human. It felt empowering to know that I had hurt the Jackal, probably badly. I heard rushing noises around me and opened my eyes. Impossibly, the virulent darkness was retracting around me. I spun wildly, in the grip of the receding darkness. As I moved, I glanced around me. I was in a huge chamber, one that extended far into the distance. I saw columns and pillars and carvings, and realised that this really was the Jackal’s- feeding ground -lair that had been the subject of the ominous cave paintings. I had no time to consider that, however, as the final darkness receded. The cave that was lit by light that had no source – my mental light, I thought – exposed its only occupant and that occupant’s slave. Just like that, I saw them. Ashley. The Jackal. [B]Seven[/B] I could never truly describe the beast before me. It wasn’t because I didn’t know the right way to articulate it – I knew exactly what to call it. I simply could not comprehend the Jackal. It was as if I were viewing it from the extremities of my peripheral vision; it was blurry and soft and weak, weak because it had no hard angles or edges. No matter how hard I looked, how much I stared, the Jackal remained hidden to me, a formless shape hidden under a veil of unreality. The cave paintings, carvings – whatever adjective I attached to them – were truer than I had thought, even after the Jackal had turned out to be real. They depicted a blurry, formless Jackal, and so it was. Yes. I knew exactly what it was: indistinct. Ashley, however, was not. I looked at him in horror. His body was covered in blood, flesh and other less identifiable materials. I could count at least eight visible wounds and more red lines that I couldn’t distinguish from the gore saturating his form. A gaping wound cut across his stomach, revealing intestines, pink and rubbery. Blood flowed from multiple slashes on his arms and legs. He was probably dead, certainly unconscious. But that wasn’t the worst of it. His entire right ear had been torn off clean from his head. Bile rose in my throat as I stared at his prostrate form, horrified. The Jackal had done this to him. As I thought of the beast before me, I realised that the cavern around me was silent. The Jackal’s screech, so loud to begin with, had been cut off instantly some moments previous, unlike the gradual decline that was characteristic in humans. Then again, it isn’t and has never resembled anything close to a human. I would wager every possession I own it has no similarity to any creature of this dimension. I can’t even begin to consider its true form. Even as I watched, it got infinitely worse. Until Ashley began to move through the air, I hadn’t even noticed that he had been airborne, so enthralled I had been by his ravaged body. Slowly, never wavering in speed, Ashley began to recede towards the blurry shape that represented the Jackal. I thought back to the carvings in horror. With every sacrifice, it gains form – and so a greater foothold in this dimension. I wanted to rush forward and tear Ashley from the Jackal’s thrall. But to come within reach of the creature would mean an unspeakable end, one that I would have already faced had I not wounded it with the psychic supernova. Suddenly, Ashley stopped moving, mere metres from the Jackal, and I realised with a shock how the Jackal had previously communicated – through Ashley. Now I know why I recognised that voice, even distorted as it had been. Ashley’s mouth opened and from it roared the Jackal. “YOU WILL SUFFER FOR USING THE GLOW AGAINST ME, SUFFER AS HE DID.” roared the grotesque Ashley/Jackal hybrid. Evidently, it only knew the light that had so hurt it as “the glow”. It didn’t matter. The important thing was that it had been hurt, and badly. I probed my mind. No trace of the Jackal’s presence remained. Apparently, that part of it, physically manifested in the virulent darkness, had been either destroyed or banished by my mental counterattack. “Even if I meet my death here, beast, I will do my utmost to bring you with me.” I responded bravely. The saturating fear and accompanying thoughts which had so crippled me, both mentally and physically, was gone. Now I could see the Jackal – regardless of how well I could comprehend it – much of the terror that I had felt at the hands of it was gone, just like the virulent darkness. Even the voice was less intimidating now that it had a definitive source. It spoke again. “I HAVE CONSUMED MANY. THIS ONE IS THE LAST. I WILL BE FREE FROM MY PRISON.” The Jackal bellowed, drawing Ashley towards him. “No.” I whispered. I sprinted towards them. No matter the cost, even if it were my life or my sanity, I could not allow the Jackal to consume Ashley and escape whatever prison it was incarcerated in. Such a beast would wreak unimaginable destruction on the surface. I pulled a silver piece of equipment, the last thing I had taken from Ashley’s pack – the flare gun. As the Jackal and the Ashley came together, I drew and fired. The world exploded around me. End[/quote]
I liked "The Jackal" when I first read it (very engaging).
[QUOTE=Aerkhan;29336434]Because mostly everyone agreed on him creating it, and he made the first one.[/QUOTE] Look, 1. He wasn't online at the time I made the thread. 2. You can't reserve the right to make a thread, first come first served. 3. Just because you make V1, doesn't mean you can make V2 as well. Like I said, first come first served. 4. Even if people did agree on him creating it, He wasn't online at the time to do so. Now, can we stop the stupid bickering and have someone post some new content that WASN'T from the old thread? Please?
Lets get some classic in here. [B]Orange Soda.[/B] [img]http://img198.imageshack.us/img198/4498/kgbmessinaround.png[/img]
[IMG]http://i.imgur.com/7tMrh.gif[/IMG]
[QUOTE=johnkane46;29341745][img_thumb]http://i.imgur.com/7tMrh.gif[/img_thumb][/QUOTE] oh god its a .gif
[QUOTE=proch;29341314]Lets get some classic in here. [B]Orange Soda.[/B] [img_thumb]http://img198.imageshack.us/img198/4498/kgbmessinaround.png[/img_thumb][/QUOTE] Oh god, I don't know what to rate [editline]wat[/editline] No sleeping will be done by me this night...
[QUOTE=proch;29341314]Lets get some classic in here. [B]Orange Soda.[/B] [img_thumb]http://img198.imageshack.us/img198/4498/kgbmessinaround.png[/img_thumb][/QUOTE] Ah, old gold. [editline]21st April 2011[/editline] [QUOTE=aurum481;29342941]Oh god, I don't know what to rate [editline]wat[/editline] No sleeping will be done by me this night...[/QUOTE] But that's what they want.
[QUOTE=halflambada;29341854]oh god its a .gif[/QUOTE] What does it show upon observation? Or is it a static .gif?
[QUOTE=halflambada;29341854]oh god its a .gif[/QUOTE] See gif Look at bottom millimeter of screen for 30 seconds.
[quote]Item #: SCP-173 Object class: Euclid Special Containment Procedures: SCP-173 is to be kept in shed behind farm. Three strong communist men must drink liter of vodka before enter. Two must stare at item, one must continue drink vodka. Description: Moved to shed after wooden pen freeze and break during cold Soviet winter. Shed is also wood, but with paint sometimes. SCP-173 is extremely hostile, like red faced Americans. Is also coward. Neither will make move while strong Soviet men have watchful eye. No one blink, on punishment of beating with cold leather. Object enjoy snap neck, like American commando pig. If object allowed to move, all will be sent to cold Siberia for reeducation. Personnel report sound of stone scraping when creature is alone. This is dutiful Russian work ethic. If sound stops, subject to be beaten with iron rods, like child. Floor is covered in shit and blood, like normal Soviet household. Shed must be cleaned every two weeks. Kept much cleaner than most Soviet household.[/quote] Repost for new thread. Put in the OP, please.
[QUOTE=sphinxa279;29316839]GLASS? BUT THEN WHO WAS MUG?[/QUOTE] The horror
Here's a good one about a cave explorer, pretty long though [URL]http://www.angelfire.com/trek/caver/page1.html[/URL]
[QUOTE=The BoxDog;29343859]See gif Look at bottom millimeter of screen for 30 seconds.[/QUOTE] I'm a bloody chicken. What happens after 30 seconds?
[QUOTE=kimr120;29344133]I'm a bloody chicken. What happens after 30 seconds?[/QUOTE] As far as I can tell? Not a goddamn thing. Oh dear, Pageking? Fuck, lemme get some content. CONTENT, CONTENT, CONTENT GALORE! [quote]Do you know what a Cordyceps is? I didn’t either until 20 minutes ago. It’s a family of thousands of different types of fungus, grows all around the word in various rainforests and jungles. The awful thing about them is they’re parasitic, they grow on other animals. An ant happens to run into some spores, and then it starts to colonize his insides, starting with his brain. At some point, the ant starts to act visibly ill; standing in place and shivering, or walking in circles. If a fellow colony member sees him in this condition, he will be dragged to the border of the colony and exiled.Then, when it’s almost over, the ant weakly climbs as high as he can up the vines, and locks his body on tight. Finally, he dies, and the fungus emerges from the back of his head, bursting forth like a long and foul fruit. After a short time, the little stalk spews forth its own spores, leaving the mummified and broken ant clinging to the stalk, his eye cavities filled with drying fungus. I mention this because last night, when I was up on the roof of my apartment complex, I found my brother’s body. He’s been back from 18 months on duty in the Philippines for less than three days. This was the first I’d seen him. My parents called me up the day before yesterday to tell me that he was on his way up. They told me he’d stayed in his room since he got home, and then suddenly got up and announced he was on his way to see me. They thought he was drunk, I’d I thought he’d never made it. He must have come straight up to the roof and died, by the smell of it. I was just finishing a cigarette, all torn up with anxiety and head throbbing, and when the acrid smoke vanished I caught a whiff of rot on the hot wind. It took me just a few minutes before I’d found him; face down behind the vents and fans. A slimy gray column rose up obscenely from the base of his skull, and a frozen waterfall of roots and tendrils was dangling from his eye sockets and mouth. At the top of stalk was small arrangement of feathery wisps, a white powder drifting idly from it tips. The spores must have drifting over the north side of the building all day. My side of the building. I came down to my apartment to try to call up the police, and my headache was rising to a feverish throb. I got through the door, and the moment I reached for the phone, pain flared in my head, so bad I almost passed out. I’ve since tried three times and I can never get my hand up on it. The same thing happens when I try to get up and leave the room; I feel spines of ice tunneling up into my skull and my limbs lock up and shudder. The ants, in their last moments crawl as high up the vines as he can climb. This is so the spore will spread over more of the colony below. In the end, the parasite controls the ant with an almost intelligent drive. God help me. The pain is almost blinding now, and a new thought has been rising up rhythmically in my head, like a record skipping. Up. Up. Up. It’s joined by an image of my office tower. It’s taller than my apartment, the tallest place I can think off and although the bulge on the back of my neck is the size of a peach, the skin stretched shiny, and I’m dizzy and my eyes are cloudy, I think I can make it there. Up. No. I’m sick. I need help. The building pulses again in my mind. The cold wind. The roof and the sky. These images and concepts dull the pain momentarily as they pass through my mind. I think I can get there. Up. Up. If you live in downtown Chicago, I would get the fuck out.[/quote]
[QUOTE=Archonet;29344711]As far as I can tell? Not a goddamn thing. Oh dear, Pageking? Fuck, lemme get some content.[/QUOTE] yep time to go pull something from the creepypasta wiki woo woo good effort [quote=CONTENT] I’m trapped in a nightmare. It’s dark all around me. Even though there’s a lamp shining next to me, I’m still suffocating in the complete darkness. I’ve never felt so isolated in my life, yet I know… I know that I’m not alone. Outside, the sun is high in the sky. It’s taunting me. Mocking me. I see it shining in the heavens, but somehow it’s still dark here. I can see so very little, no more than five feet in front of me. It’s as much of a curse as it is a blessing. Lights glow, but don’t illuminate anything. I can just barely discern the movement of something traveling on four legs from my peripheral vision. I don’t know where to run. No sense of location is left in me. I’m utterly lost. A feeling of complete helplessness engulfs me. I wish I’d never woken up this wretched morning. Trapped in oblivion. It’s repeated over and over in my head. I hear claws scrape against the pavement not far away. I’ve been wandering outside for god only knows how long now, practically welcoming my death. My only hope at this point is that whatever is stalking me makes quick work of my demise. It appears I’ve stumbled into a dead end. Footsteps echo behind me. As I turn around, all I can make out is two luminescent glowing red eyes. I thought I couldn’t be any more afraid than I already was. My heart is beating so fast that my body feels hot. Closer. It’s getting closer and closer, snarling at me, bearing what I’m sure are its teeth. Something is dripping from its maw. Finally it steps before me and I know my hell is soon to end. The beast lurches forward and holds me in a god like vice. Cold blood runs from my neck, cooling my overheated body. The pain is indescribable, but I’m sure it’ll all be over soon. I clench my eyes shut as tight as I can, my teeth grind as I try to ignore the sounds of my flesh being torn from my body. Suddenly I spring forward, my eyes still closed. Only a fragment of the pain remains, and I feel a familiar fabric in my gripping fists. It’s my blanket. Finally I can open my eyes. It’s still night outside, but I’m so joyful that the experience was all in my mind. I pull the switch on my bedside lamp, eager to bathe in light once again. My heart sinks. The lamp glows, but my room is still dark. I’m trapped in a nightmare. [/quote]
[QUOTE=Ghostwork;29344770]yep time to go pull something from the creepypasta wiki woo woo good effort[/QUOTE] Would you like to shut the fuck up and stop being a douchebag for no reason? You want content, you get content. You don't want content? Then get the fuck out of the thread and go jerk off to dragon dicks or something.
[QUOTE=Archonet;29344861]Would you like to shut the fuck up and stop being a douchebag for no reason? You want content, you get content. You don't want content? Then get the fuck out of the thread and go jerk off to dragon dicks or something.[/QUOTE] wow [quote=CONTENT]A boy was dragged along by his friend to stay at the abandoned North Haven Hospital for the night. A lot of inhumane experiments were said to take place there - like the "Eye Experiment", where they used needles to try to change eye colors from brown to blue. Most patients died of mysterious deaths within a few months and suicides were frequent. But the boy felt that the dilapidated building was relatively peaceful - except for one room on the seventh floor. When they passed by it, he felt someone was staring at them from inside. They kept walking until they heard something hitting the ground from that very room. It was then his friend got a devious grin and pulled him inside. The first thing he noticed was the glass scattered everywhere on the ground and that the room was empty except for one large, broken window. He saw his friend looking out of it and staring at the night sky. While the boy was picking up one of the pieces of broken glass, he heard a familiar sound of something hitting the floor. He looked up to see his friend had disappeared. When he ran to the window and called out his friend's name, he saw his lifeless, bloody body on the concrete below. Then he heard a whisper in his ear. "...I can't see..." [/quote]
[QUOTE=kimr120;29344133]I'm a bloody chicken. What happens after 30 seconds?[/QUOTE] It starts over. :v: [editline]21st April 2011[/editline] [QUOTE=Ghostwork;29344770]yep time to go pull something from the creepypasta wiki woo woo good effort[/QUOTE] Atleast he's getting something.
[QUOTE=The BoxDog;29344900]It starts over. :v: [editline]21st April 2011[/editline] Atleast he's getting something.[/QUOTE] k hold on look CONTENT! [quote=CONTENT]It’s a cool, calm night. You worked hard that day, and you feel ready for a good night’s sleep. You climb into your bed and turn off the light. You notice that, considering you live alone, it’s unusually quiet tonight. Ever since the death of your next-door neighbor, the loud rap music didn't wake you up in the middle of the night any more. The police were quite reliable in these parts, but you can’t help but feel a little disturbed that, for all the blood that was spilled and mess that was caused, the investigators still don’t seem to have a lead. You tell yourself not to worry, the community is on their toes, no sensible killer would go sneaking around this town. You lay down and close your eyes. As you drift off into sleep, a clear view of the front of your house floats into your vision, lights off except for the television in the downstairs window that you must have forgotten to turn off. You sit up. What kind of dream was that? No, it was more vivid, more distinct than a dream. Strange. Oh, well, you think as you lay back down. Not long after you close your eyes, you get a similar vision of your front door. Again, you wake up. What’s going on here? No matter. You left all your doors locked. Still, you feel a bit disturbed as you lay back down. The stairs leading up to the upstairs hallway fill your mind. The picture at the top of the staircase grows larger as you seem to be moving slowly up the stairs. You try to remain asleep, but abruptly sit up when you hear the wooden steps creak outside your door. Paranoia gets the better of you and you pull a small pistol out of your nightstand you kept around for self defense. Holding it doesn’t seem to give you as much comfort as you thought it would as the steps continue to creak slowly as whatever it is slowly ascends to the hallway. You get up and poise the gun at the door. The creaking stops. A few minutes pass, and you decide that you really have gone crazy with paranoia. Now that you realize it was only your imagination, you tell yourself to go to bed and have it checked tomorrow. But what were those visions? A dream? A spiritual warning? Your own mind playing tricks on you? These thoughts pester you as you slowly close your eyes, still standing in the middle of the bedroom, facing the door… You snap awake and you aim your pistol at the bedroom door, ready to strike at any moment. From the “vision” you just saw, whatever’s perspective you were telepathically receiving was standing right on the other side of the door. What do you do? How did it get in? Is this all in your head? Is it safe to return to sleep? No, then it will surely attack, while you’re off guard. You take a minute or so to gather up your courage, and approach the door. You slowly grasp the knob, turn it ever so softly, then you kick the door open and pull the trigger… or so you almost do until you realize there’s nothing out there but a dark hallway. That was close, you almost caused a huge ruckus in the neighborhood, the last thing you needed for all this stress. You take a deep breath to regain composure, close your eyes, stretch your tense muscles, and you see yourself from behind, staring out into the hallway. [/quote] MORE CONTENT [quote=Old video games tend to be a source of weird shit - PC titles obviously, but even unlicensed cartridge games were fairly easy to do on a lark, as I'm sure some people remember first-hand and others have heard. I like to collect these weird games when I can - most of them are just shitty shit made by mongoloids, but some are funny or even creepy. Take Goat Jump - I got it from a pawn shop owner that I know who knows I buy old games. I don't know if Goat Jump is the actual name, because the original label had been peeled off and a small one affixed with just those two words. Anyway, Goat Jump is an apparently-unlicensed NES game. Pop it into your NES, starts right up. No credits, no start screen, no explanation. Graphics consists of a scrolling ranch/prairie, with the player being a really shittily-rendered, small cowboy. The "goats" don't really look like goats, but I guess they don't look like anything else, either. A makes you jump, while B doesn't do anything. Pressing start will pause the game - the screen is filled mostly with the word "STOP" in white block letters - pressing select will make your character stop moving and a loud buzzing sound will play (what the fuck). Music is low-quality pseudo-western beeps. Walking into a goat causes the same buzz to emit as if you'd pressed select, and the screen switches to black with the word "LOSE" filling the screen. Game has to be manually reset from there. Gameplay consists of you jumping over goats. Your apparent reward for this is 1 point per goat, with scroll speed and goat number slowly increasing. Around the 15 minute mark (what can I say, I'm tenacious), things start getting strange. The music is occasionally interrupted with loud beeps or scratching tones out of sync with the music. The goat sprites begin to get varied, with color errors and such; some are really just incoherent masses of colored pixels. Your cowboy sprite kinda flips back and forth, so it looks like he's moonwalking. This gets steadily more severe, and the terrain is eventually effected, too. Gray sky, brown trees, and red pixels which I assume are supposed to be blood. By this point the music is incoherent screeching and beeping with no tune, your sprite is gliding along on his back, and the goat sprites are half-sunk into the terrain. You come to the end of your journey around the half-hour mark, where you enter your first and only building rendered shittily in gray brick. From there, your sprite glides into some sort of threshing machine or something and a shitty "scream" plays; you get 100,000 points. A black screen with "YOU ONE" [sic] pops up, with a really fucked-up goat sprite dancing below the words. Again, the game has to be manually reset. Graphical and sound glitches appear earlier or randomly in subsequent playthroughs. Goats are replaced with your cowboy sprite laying on its back with "blood" on it and occasionally missing pieces. Randomly, your cowboy is replaced with a goat and, bafflingly, a large boot. Like I said, weird. I've never found any information on Goat Jump anywhere. I assume it was a joke or a personal project or something. What the fuck. Read more[/quote] I'M AWESOME AT THIS [quote] I never liked doors. There was always something about doors that freaked me out. When they were open, I felt exposed. When they were closed, I felt a bit safer, yet nervous about what was on the other side. So I often lock my doors and the doors that lead outside of my small rural house have plenty of windows. I’ve told people about this phobia, I guess you could call it that, before. They’ve rationalized it, saying “It’s like how some people aren’t afraid of the dark, but what the dark hides”. Yes, that makes sense. I guess, ever since I was a kid, I always imagined watching one open on its own and a monster would come out and get me. Even now and again into my teen years did this happen. It was always a door, never through a window, never out of a dark hallway or corner, but a door. The knob would turn, the hinges would creak and out came a creature of utter blackness and it would take me away, kill me or whatever monsters did. That is why I hated this particular door. This door was tall, nearly eight feet tall and about three feet wide. It was black, jet black. I didn’t like it. It was big, dark, and in my bedroom. I never used this door often. I kept some old clothes behind that door on racks. Suits, ties, dress pants, just some random formal stuff I hardly used. I was just a cook so I never really needed them unless I needed a job. Luckily I was able to stay with this diner for a long time. I haven’t opened that door for five years. I often wonder why I never got rid of it. If I didn’t like it, why keep it? Well I guess because it just seemed silly. It seemed silly to get rid of a door just because of some childhood fears. I was a big boy now, I’m not supposed to be afraid of the dark or the boogeyman. “Heh, yeah.” I rapped my knuckle against the door as I stood in front of it, “I’m not afraid of you. You’re just a big piece of wood. All you got behind you are some old clothes that probably don’t even fit me anymore.” I tried to laugh away my concern as I looked at the door. It seemed to tower over me, two small panels at the top of the door seemed to angle down at me. For a moment I felt like it was looking right at me. I tried to laugh again, but I couldn’t quite muster the humor. Instead I gave it another rap and walked off. I had things to do, get ready for work, bills to pay, and people to see. I didn’t have time to be afraid of a door. A couple of nights went by after I ‘mocked’ the door. The feeling of being looked down on didn’t leave for the rest of the week. For some reason I just felt…watched by the door. I lay in bed one night, parallel to the door, and stared at it. The door was hidden in the darkness, with only its brass knob to let me know it never moved. I stared for some time, looking directly at it. I felt like I was in a staring contest with the door. We just looked at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. We waited until one of us broke the stare, we tried to intimidate the other. We stared for a long time before I finally blinked. When I did blink I expected the door to suddenly swing open and reveal some sort of monster. Nothing happened, the door simply stood there, looking at me, looming over me. A chill ran down my spine and I finally turned away. I went to sleep, but not after several glances back at the door. I woke up that morning with a headache. My head pounded like a death metal drum solo. I groaned, it hurt like a son of a bitch. I pressed my hands on the bed to feel something warm dampen my hands. I opened my eyes. There on my pillow and down onto the white sheets was a pool of blood. I sat up, tearing my face away from the pillow. It was sticky from the dried blood. When I examined the sheets closer I saw drops falling from my nose. I had a bloody nose, of course. I quickly stood up from my bed and ran to the bathroom with my head up like some sort of super snob. Ya know, the kind where they even look down on God. Anyway I ran in and looked at myself in the mirror. The left half of my face, mostly the cheek and mouth area, was dark red and brown and two streams of blood still dripped from nose. I held it up again, this time feeling around the bathroom for some toilet paper. I found some and quickly plugged my nose up in a hurry. The toilet paper stopped the blood and I was able to sigh in relief. I felt dizzy though and when the crisis ended, my headache decided to take center stage again. With another groan I wandered into my bedroom and called in sick. I couldn’t go to work like this. I called my boss, and with the toilet paper in my nose, I sounded more convicting. He told me to call someone and so I called Fred, he’s a good shit. “Hello?” Came up his voice. I must’ve just woke him up. “Hey, Fred. It’s Josh. Listen man, I’m feeling like shit and I need you to come in for me, alright?” There was a silence on the phone. He was probably nodding. Fred had a stupid tendency to do that, like he thought the phone had video or something. Finally he responded. “Yeah, yeah sure.” He said with a yawn. “Thanks man, I’ll take Friday for ya, if you’d like.” “I would like that, Josh. Thanks.” “Yeah, I’ll talk to ya later.” I hung up. There, I had the day to get cleaned up and my head to feel better. As I laid my phone back on the base I noticed something odd. There was a sheet missing from my bed. Figuring I just kicked it off as I slept, I took a look around the bed. Nothing. Not under the bed, not behind it, not around it. I looked all over and couldn’t find it. With a sigh I sat down on the bloody bed. What a day, and I just woke up. My headache pounded as I tried to think, tried to calm down. I felt like crap, but I also felt nervous for some reason. A bloody nose and a headache then my sheet is gone. I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. What a fucking day. Then I looked up, intent on some aspirin…and I noticed something else. My closet door wasn’t closed all the way. I could tell because the latch rested on the outside of the frame. Now I was really freaking out. I stood up, in nothing but my boxers and approached the door. I reached for the handle. I looked up at those two panels and again, they seemed to angle down at me, staring me dead in the eye. I hesitated and took a step back. Why was it open and why was I so scared of it? It was just a door. Nothing to be scared of…yet I was. I was absolutely terrified of this door right now. My head pounded, my nose was plugged with toilet tissues, and I was alone in my boxers. Dawn was just creeping through my window. I gripped the handle. There was nothing, absolutely nothing to be scared of. I told myself this probably a million times as my hand shook on the knob. The quaking knob made small rattling noises as the latch vibrated against the frame. Finally I took a deep breath, made a tight fist, and swung open the door. Inside was the five jackets, dress shirts, dress pants, and two pairs of shoes I wear for interviews. They were all aligned and straight on the rack they hung on by their hangers. Just as I had left them five years ago. I looked down and there was my sheet under the coats. It was folded up neatly into a perfect square. One word raced across my mind a thousand times. How? How how how how how how? I didn’t know, and I didn’t think I wanted to know. Mustering my courage again, I reached down and grabbed the sheet then I shut the door. I must’ve used more force than usual as the door shut with a small slam. I jumped in response, but I stood my ground otherwise. I looked back up at the two panels and remained still. They looked back. They seemed to be waiting for some sort of response to my findings. Did they want praise, fear, scolding? What was I do to? Should I tell it how much it scared me and how terrible of a trick it was? I looked up at it. It looked back. I never moved from where I was until around 10 am. The day pressed on. I was downstairs, cleaned up and my headache was gone. I was sitting on my couch watching TV. I was watching a documentary. It was about the civil war and how Sherman marched through Atlanta burning all in his path. Next to me in a chair was the sheet I found in the closet. I didn’t take the time to put them back on the bed, nor did I take the bloody sheets and pillow to be washed. I didn’t intent to sleep up there anyway. Yet it seems my venture to avoid the door was not something I was destined. As a man talked about how Sherman planned to burn Atlanta to the ground I heard something that made my blood run cold. A loud slam echoed through the emptiness of my house. It was a fierce slam, like someone who was running for their life would slam a door in front of a killer. Or like how a child looking for attention would slam their parent’s door. I jumped up from the couch and look up the stairs leading to my room. The slam echoed in my ears a few times as I gazed up, unable to move. I was not just scared anymore. I was terrified. Something was in my house, something hid behind that door. And that something wanted my attention. “Hello?” I called out. I wasn’t sure how I was able to muster the courage to call out into the empty house. I wasn’t even sure why I thought I’d get answer. I didn’t and the house was silent once again. My nerves were not settled however. I took a few steps forward, my socks whispering on the pale carpet. I stopped and nothing continued to happen. I licked my lips, they were incredibly dry. I then jogged. I couldn’t believe how fast I decided to see the door. My body felt like on autopilot as I skipped up steps to my room. I flew past the bathroom and suddenly found myself at the doorway leading to my room. I looked around the corner. There was the door. It was shut tight, no latch left out. I stepped into my room. I stepped slowly, cautiously. Those two panels watched my every move like the eyes of a hawk, or that of a demon. I looked at them as I continued. Every few steps I paused to listen and watch. Nothing happened. Then I was at the door. I looked up at the panels again. This time something else caught my eye. It was a long streak. The door was covered with them, but this one was larger than the rest. The streak extended between the two panels and curved. It was smiling at me. I was downstairs again. This time with a beer in my hands, the quilt over me, and my head on the arm of the couch. The time was 11:30pm. I was watching a movie. One of the Die Hards I think it was. I sat, my eyes blank and my body cold. I was very cold now. I even wore my jacket under the quilt and I was still shivering. I was probably actually very scared, yet I didn’t feel all that scared. Just cold. I watched as explosions came off the screen, as gunfire was passed back and forth between Bruce Willis and some terrorists. I watched, my body shivering yet still. I took a drink of the beer only every ten minutes, on the minute. I watched…and waited. I knew I was waiting for something. For the door to do something, yet I couldn’t leave. I didn’t feel the need yet. I felt distant, actually. I felt like I was watching myself watch TV. I only ever came back to the present whenever the ten minutes came up. I watched TV and kept an ear out for something. At 12:00 midnight, just as I drank my beer I heard what I was waiting for. The walls shook, the ground quaked, and my heart stopped. There was another loud slam, oh, but it wasn’t over yet. That slam was followed by another, and another, and another. The pace was slow at first, but it picked up quickly. It was almost like listening to a giant smash against a wall over and over again. My body moved faster than I ever thought I could, yet I remember every moment. My hair standing up, my legs kicking off the quilt, my hands grabbing the keys to my car. My head turning to the stairs. The slamming continued throughout the process. I ran out the door, I ran to my car. Then I drove away. I drove so fast, so fast to get away from the slamming. It continued in my head. Pounding, over and over and over again. It just wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t concentrate. I just heard the slamming of my closet door over and over again, like a jackhammer. It pierced my mind and broke my sanity. I began to laugh and laughed even louder as I watched a pair of headlights rush into my car. [/quote] maybe i'll go find a picture from WIKIPEDIA too! [media]http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/9/93/Mueck-head.jpg[/media] hyperrealism CREEPY!
btw if you guys want something a bit long i would suggest humper-monkey's ghost story [url]http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Humper-Monkey%27s_Ghost_Story[/url] im about halfway through and i absolutely love it
Damn that doors story made going to the toilet at night even more difficult.. What lies beyond that terrifying door :o [i]cleansing products[/i]
[QUOTE] My father was loving. No matter what anyone else says, he was caring. My dad always made sure I had food, clothing, and toys. I lived in Conneticut once, in a suburban area. The picket fence, SUV, and driveway were all parts of my life. The American Dream at it's fullest. There was a problem, though. My father said that outside, horrible things lived. Hands would come up through the grass and steal you away to hell! He said that he fought those monsters, that he kept our house safe from the bad people who wanted to break me. "Break me?" I asked. "Yes, break you. You have perfect form, son. They want to rip your arms and legs out, turn your arms around, and cover your eyes with skin so you can no longer see! But don't fear, son. Because when I am here, you are safe. "Now, I am keeping you safe-for the most part. But upstairs, at the end of the hallway, behind the Yellow Door, is my study. You must never go to my study, son. I have monsters up there, and there is a small chance that, while they cannot leave that room, they could escape. If you are inside when they escape..." He trailed off, and I understood: never go behind the Yellow Door. One day, when Father went beyond the Yellow Door I was in the den, coloring in a book. I'm not too sure what happened, but I decided to confront my fear of the monsters in the grass by coloring it in. Tenatively, I groped around for the green crayon, never taking my eyes off the paper for fear of the Grass Monsters coming out of the paper. I slowly drew the slightest of marks on the grass outline. Nothing. My fears abated, I continued coloring in the grass until there was not a single white space on the paper. I turned the page in the book, and it was blank. Nothing was there. I had reached the end. I looked around for another book, but the books that I could find were saturated with color. After looking through all the books, the strongest thought in my seven-year-old mind was confronting the Grass Monsters who would suck me into hell. Normally, father had drapes across the curtains that couldn't be opened, but-hold on! The string controlling the pulley inside the curtain was dangling, not secured on it's 6' high hook as usual. Standing on the tips of my toes, I grasped an arm towards it. No luck. Once again, I tried with the same arm. Still no luck. In a rallying feat of strength, I lunged with both arms at once. Success! I held the string in my hands, wondering what to do next. After about a minute of surprise at gaining the power to view my enemies, I figured out how to open the drapes. I slowly opened the curtains. As light cascaded down from the heavens into my tiny pupils, an estatic feeling spread across my whole self. I was basking in the glow when the Monsters came. "Holy shit! What is that... thing?" "Kid? Are you all right? Holy fuck... FUCK!" "Get that kid out of there!" What happened next was a blur. One of the monsters started talking into a tool, while the others crept behind him. I stood at the window dumbly, watching them dart back and forth. Then, cars pulled up and monsters dressed in black crept up to the right of my field of vision. BANG. Blackness. _________________________________________________________________________________________ Police Sgt. Dowerty opened the file Lt. Higgens had handed him and began to read to himself. "2407 Hannover Drive. On Sept. 7th, 2014, the police raided the aforementioned residence, belonging to a Dr. Douglas Glass, when a glimpse of an abused boy was seen by passerbys. "While searching the basement and the downstairs, nothing out of the ordaniary was found, save for the boy (SEE Addendum 1). When searching the 2nd floor, behind a solid-yellow-painted door, multiple municipal code violations were found (SEE Addendum 2). "ADDENDUM 1: Child, presumed 7 years old, male. Surgically reconstructed with: Third Eye (Implemented onto forehead) Extra Elbow Cartilage (to provide with extra flexibility to twist arms in a 340 degree range of motion) Three Dwarf Arms (Implemented onto back) Seventeen toes total (Implemented onto points varying from ankle to tip of foot). "ADDENDUM 2: A Yellow Door, reinforced with iron plates on the inside, lead to a bedroom with ten surgical operating tables. "Seven of these tables were unoccupied. "One of these tables was occupied by a live woman, 32, identified as Maria Kent. Ms. Kent was reported missing in January of 2007. "Attached to her was: Life support External bladder and rectum Various tubes looped into the uterus. The tubes, when analyzed, contained trace amounts of semen, containing the DNA of Dr. Douglas Glass. They were apparently used in the artificial insemenation of Ms. Kent, as exemplified by numerous signs of pregnancy. Ms. Kent was found alive and is currently in ICU at North Mercy Hosp. "The two other tables held two corpses, each with 1 Post-It note at the foot of the table: Failed. "The first corpse, the one determined to be the oldest dead, died from anaphylactic shock. A box was found inserted into a pouch cut out of it's chest filled with dead bees. Numerous wires connected nerve endings in the small of the back to a mechanism in the box proven to function as an opener to the inner beehive. It is assumed Dr. Glass attempted to alter the corpse to allow for bee deployment. Notes from his clipboard show that he intented to use this as a "guard dog". "The second corpse died from oxygen deprivation. Incisions were made in the corpse's neck, with the corpse's tattered windpipe dangling out. The subject and the table was drenched in water. It is assumed Dr. Glass attempted to alter the corpse to allow for water breathing. Notes from his clipboard show that he intented to use this as a "thing that I may pity". Sgt. Dowerty closed the file. "Shit. This actually happened?" "Yep. This bastard actually exists. I want you to head the task force dedicated to finding him. We can't have scum like this living on this earth." "Yes, sir." "Oh, and Sergeant?" Dowerty looked the Lieutennant in the eyes. "...when you catch him? Weapons free." Dowerty turned on his heels and walked into the taskforce's room, shutting the door behind him. [/QUOTE] I wrote this. I'm thinking of developing it into a story.
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[img]http://filesmelt.com/dl/really3.png[/img] Really?
[QUOTE=J$ Psychotic;29361168]I wrote this. I'm thinking of developing it into a story.[/QUOTE] Do it, this is perfect!
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