Mirrors are scary as hell at night. Every time I'm bending down to flush my mouth out with water after I'm done brushing my teeth I always half expect to stand up and see something behind me.
[QUOTE=Bredirish123;23551112]Mirrors are scary as hell at night. Every time I'm bending down to flush my mouth out with water after I'm done brushing my teeth I always half expect to stand up and see something behind me.[/QUOTE]
Oh jesus dude, I know exactly what you mean.
If you want to creep yourself out properly, try looking at and touching a mirror in almost complete darkness.
[QUOTE=halflambada;23547806]please, don't.
I hate fursuiters as much as the next guy but this thread is for creepy-pasta, scary images and ACTUAL scary videos not your distaste for a weird-ass fetish.[/QUOTE]
Another avatar that makes me wanna kill myself. Please go away ! :gonk:
[QUOTE=BaconDioxide;23551260]Oh jesus dude, I know exactly what you mean.
If you want to creep yourself out properly, try looking at and touching a mirror in almost complete darkness.[/QUOTE]
Haha, why would I want to do that? :v:
Guys from the whole thread this has creeped me out most:
[media][URL="http://youtube.com/watch?v=3far9oHZOsI"][COLOR=#ffffff]http://youtube.com/watch?v=3far9oHZOsI[/COLOR][/URL][/media]
(rubber johnny)
I'm way too fucking scared of that shit what the bloody hell is it?
And no i haven't watched it all for obvious reasons. :saddowns:
[QUOTE=LtBubbles;23551980]Guys from the whole thread this has creeped me out most:
[media][URL="http://youtube.com/watch?v=3far9oHZOsI"][COLOR=#ffffff]http://youtube.com/watch?v=3far9oHZOsI[/COLOR][/URL][/media]
(rubber johnny)
I'm way too fucking scared of that shit what the bloody hell is it?
And no i haven't watched it all for obvious reasons. :saddowns:[/QUOTE]
If you're going to be a pussy about watching it, it's a techno song, with some awesome visuals.
I find it ridiculously cute in the start, then it's just awesome.
Here' one about mirror's.
[quote][B]That Night in the Mirror[/B]
I’ll tell you right now that my story doesn’t have any dramatic climax or any cathartic resolution. Don’t bother reading it if that’s what you’re looking for. My story is of one very specific moment in my life. One which, try as I might, I cannot negate as a trick my exhausted brain played on me, or a momentary lapse of reason and subsequent plunge into childish fears.
I think a fear of mirrors must be fairly common, in this day and age. I remember when I was young I saw one of those compilation TV horror shows. The ones where there’d be a different short scary story between commercial breaks. In retrospect it wasn’t the scariest thing in the world, and if I saw it again today I would probably invite friends over and we could quash our collective fear by mocking the bad acting or ridiculous storyline.
All I remember of it is that in the story a man was being constantly tormented by a disfigured, murderous psychopath, but he only saw him when he looked in the mirror. The whole story was a typical song-and-dance of the man catching his stalker in the mirror behind him, turning to face him and finding nothing there.
Maybe the reason I remember it so well is because it was so shortly after I heard my mom die. I say heard because I never saw her body. I was watching TV (a different show) when I heard what sounded like porcelain breaking, followed by a loud thud, coming from the kitchen two rooms away. The sudden noise was oddly unsurprising, but I remember craning my head to see my mom’s legs sprawled on the tiled floor. I couldn’t see any more of her, the doorframe was in the way. Luckily (I suppose), my father ran in first, calling her name somewhat frantically. As I stood up, but did not advance out of what I imagine was fear, I remember him telling me to stay where I was.
The doctors told us a virus had gotten into her heart. I remember my father protesting that he hadn’t even heard of that before. Neither had I, but the concept of death itself was fairly new to me, and I remember being filled with an overwhelming sense of existential fear. As if I or anyone I knew could suddenly crumble into a pile of lifeless dust at any moment.
I don’t think I was a very fearful child, though. Not moreso than most. And even my uneasiness around mirrors didn’t exactly trump my other fears of spiders, or being in cramped spaces. I guess it makes sense that mirrors are a source of fear for people. One of the defining signs of self-awareness is whether or not an animal recognizes itself in the mirror. Maybe we still retain some primal belief that what we’re seeing really isn’t us, but some sinister shadow-self. Not to mention all the scenes in horror movies that use them. A character bends down to splash water in their face, and when they lift their head back up their face is distorted in some gruesome way.
I had just gotten home from a party at a nearby frat house. I lived in an old Victorian house that four of my friends from school and I rented. I was the only one home, having left the party early (if you can call 2:00 in the morning early) and my roommates were all still out. I ran upstairs to my room, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to lay in my bed and feel the rest of the world leave me behind. But I didn’t. In rare form I decided to take a few more steps down the hall to the old, poorly-design bathroom two of my roommates shared with me. It was lit by a single, fluorescent bulb, casting the black and white tile in a sickly, near-green color. I ran a thin strip of toothpaste on my brush and gave my teeth a once-over before spitting the slightly brown spit and foam down the sink. When I looked up I saw her.
Standing behind me in the bathtub with the curtain drawn wide open, my mother’s mouth hung down as if screaming, but without any sound. I could tell it was my mother, but she was a grotesque shadow of how I remember her. Her eyes were either completely gone, or simply black in color. The sockets were vacuums within which nothing reflected. Her skin was so pale it was almost blue, and her dark hair looked drenched in water, hugging her scalp tight and falling in front of her shoulders in thin strips. Her mouth wasn’t exactly screaming, so much as hanging open. Impossibly open, much further than a person’s jaw can extend. She seemed to be wearing a thin white nightgown, drenched, like her hair, and clinging to her emaciated body. Her stick-legs looked like they were going to buckle under her weight, while her arms reached back against the walls.
I must have only seen her for seconds before turning, screaming and falling backwards, slamming hard against the tiled floor. The tub was empty. There had been no sound, and now as the echoes of my cry dissipated I could only hear my heavy breathing. I don’t know how long I lay on the floor of the bathroom. The fluorescent bulb dully buzzing as I became too frightened to even move. Eventually I heard the downstairs door swing open, as a parade of drunk college boys and their floozies poured in for the night. They found me only the floor, and thought it was hilarious that I was so drunk I had almost passed out in the bathroom.
I never saw her again. I never want to see her again, and every day I wish I hadn’t. There are myths of people being scared to death, or being haunted by dreams of a single event for their whole lives. I’ve had dreams too, but they aren’t what haunts me to this very day.
When someone you love dies, you tend to forget everything bad about them, and eventually your fond memories of them just coalesce into a fondness you share with everyone else that knew them. But that’s not how I feel about my mother. I was too young to have endless loving stories about her. Instead all I can remember is her face that night in the mirror.
My story doesn’t end with me taking my own life, or anything dramatic like that. I have thought about it, though. I tried putting a length of rope across my neck one day and squeezing, just to see what it would feel like. But I would never go through with it. It isn’t so much that I want to live. What bothers me the most is that I don’t know for sure what happens when we die. Nobody knows. But what I saw that night in the mirror makes me think I do.[/Quote]
[QUOTE='[DJ Ria];23554065'][img]http://i28.tinypic.com/34q34wm.jpg[/img]
[img]http://i31.tinypic.com/24v5d7n.jpg[/img]
[editline]07:16PM[/editline]
[img]http://i25.tinypic.com/1zzt0z4.jpg[/img][/QUOTE]
Lots of creepy in this post
[editline]11:06PM[/editline]
[QUOTE=ejonkou;23550830][url]http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder_of_Tim_McLean[/url]
^
Fucking freaky, creepy and sick.[/QUOTE]
:wtc:
Goddamn, those pictures are really well done.
[QUOTE='[DJ Ria];23554065'][IMG]http://i28.tinypic.com/34q34wm.jpg[/IMG]
[editline]07:16PM[/editline]
[/QUOTE]
Not so much creepy as it is artistic and awesome.
[editline]04:16AM[/editline]
Actually that IS kinda creepy after staring at it for a while.
[QUOTE=LtBubbles;23551980]Guys from the whole thread this has creeped me out most:
[media][URL="http://youtube.com/watch?v=3far9oHZOsI"][COLOR=#ffffff]http://youtube.com/watch?v=3far9oHZOsI[/COLOR][/URL][/media]
(rubber johnny)
I'm way too fucking scared of that shit what the bloody hell is it?
And no i haven't watched it all for obvious reasons. :saddowns:[/QUOTE]
Oh God, watched that again, he reminds me of the Martians from Mars Attacks!, what with the massive head and the 'La la' language.
[QUOTE='[DJ Ria];23554065']
[img_thumb]http://i25.tinypic.com/1zzt0z4.jpg[/img_thumb][/QUOTE]
Oh shit. What the fuck is happening here?
Happy now?
[QUOTE=hl2poo;23556528]Oh shit. What the fuck is happening here?[/QUOTE]
It's a god stabbing itself. Watch The Begotten.
ITT: People forget how to use img_thumb.
And that is the scariest thing of all.
Having a squeaky chair while reading these amplifies the creepiness.
Hey, anyone got that Fallout 2 creepypasta from a while back?
The entire time that I've been visiting this thread night after night, there's this scary-as-fuck mask in the closet behind me, and it's like it's watching me.
[QUOTE=xxsetshotxx;23560068]
:smug:
scariest shit ever[/QUOTE]
Why are you smug facing for, that's arse.
don't know if it's late or not but, holy shit
[QUOTE] I am currently sitting in front of my computer, scared witless. Any moment now I am going to be killed.
Today a friend of mine told me a story.
His aunt had taken care of him since he was a small boy, and she told him last night about how his parents died. He did a very fair imitation of her (I knew them both pretty well):
[INDENT] “They were doing mission work in some nasty little south american country when a man burst into the mission hospital one night, terrified out of his mind. He told them that his sister had been killed by a Muerto blanco, and that he was certain that it was coming for him next. What is a Muerto blanco? Apparently it was some sort of bogey-man, something like that dumb chupacabra or whatever. They called it the White Death or the White Girl, because it was the soul of someone who hated life so much that they came back in their shrouds to kill those who told of them.
[/INDENT] The man had been told about the vengeful spirit by his sister hours before her death. It was a girl with dead, black eyes that wept bile. The thing moved without ever actually moving its legs, and it stalked its victims back to their homes. Now, if you weren’t already aware that this thing was following you, once it got back to your house, it would start knocking on your door…
[LIST]
[*]Once for you skin, which she’ll use to patch her own decaying flesh.
[*]Twice for your muscle, which she’ll gnash her teeth on between victims.
[*]Thrice for your bones, which she’ll make knives to pick her teeth and kill her victims.
[*]Four times for your heart, which she’ll wear around her neck.
[*]Five times for your teeth, which she’ll polish and keep in a box.
[*]Six times for your eyes, which she’ll see the faces of your loved ones through.
[*]Seven times for your soul, which she’ll eat whole - you can never pass while you’re in her stomach.
[/LIST]
She has to repeat this on any mirror or door between you and her.
You can try to outrun her, but she’s faster than the fastest man. And if you leave your home while she’s knocking on your door, she won’t be so courteous when she catches up to you.
Now the man was certain that this thing had killed his sister, that he had tried to tell the police, but they would not listen. Next he had tried to tell his priest, but the priest turned him away when he saw that the thing was following him now - oh, that’s right, I forgot about that - it can only get you if you tell someone else about it, or you saw it kill someone else. The man, after finishing his tale, stole a car from the mission, and was never seen again.
Apparently his mother and father had immediately called his aunt about this when it happened. They were found in the morning, skinned and dismembered. Their bodies were covered in tiny, child-like handprints.
His aunt was really drunk the night before, and had told him about that. He told me this story early in the morning today at school, before the cops arrived. His aunt had been murdered that night. I called him later that night, and he told me that he was being chased by someone, and now they were knocking on his door. I told him to stop shitting me.
He held the phone away from his face for a minute, and I could hear slow, deliberate knocking. A moment later, I heard the door rip from its hinges and the dying screams of my friend.
Then a little girl’s voice spoke over the line: “WITNESS.” I hung up.
Three minutes ago someone started knocking on my door. She has to knock 28 times on my front door, 28 times on the mirror in the hall, and another 28 times on the door to my bedroom. She’s doing it slowly… I think she wants to scare me some more, let me know that my death is just moments away. I will not run - I couldn’t get to my car in time anyway. She started knocking on my bedroom door a minute ago, she should be done any moment.
Nice knowing you guys, it’s been funjklm,.-
WITNESS
[/QUOTE]
This is a real thing, this actually happened, Look it up.
[quote][B]The Moving Coffins of Barbados[/B]
[img]http://www.slightlywarped.com/crapfactory/awesomemysteries/images/movingcoffins-chasevault.jpg[/img]
On the island of Barbados in the Caribbean sits the picturesque Christ Church Parish. It's just like a lot of churches all over the world complete with a quiet graveyard where many of the island's inhabitants end up for their final rest. However, in one tomb in this cemetery, the dead are anything but at rest.
[img]http://www.slightlywarped.com/crapfactory/awesomemysteries/images/movingcoffins-chasevault1.jpg[/img]
It's called The Chase Vault and it is at the center of one of the island of Barbados' most chilling and sinister mysteries.
The Chase Vault was first built by The Honorable James Elliot. The vault was majestic, made of carved stone, coral, and concrete walls over two feet thick. At the entrance was an enormous blue slab of marble sealing the tomb in peace.
The first occupant of the vault was James Elliot's wife, Elizabeth, who died on May 14th, 1792. A few years later, the vault was purchased by the Walrond Family and was opened to receive the body of Mrs. Thomasina Goddard however, upon removing the marble slab from the front of the door, the pallbearers were puzzled to observe that Mrs. Elliot and her coffin had completely disappeared. The reason for the disappearance of the co
The vault eventually ended up in the possession of the Chase Family (hence the name) and the first member of the Chase Family to be buried there was baby Mary Anne Marie Chase who died at the age of two on February 22, 1808. Her small lead coffin was placed in the vault and the marble slab was put into place where it would remain for four years.
In 1812 Mary Anne's older sister, Dorcas, died under what some would say was strange circumstances. It was rumored that the girl had been abused by her father, Colonel Thomas Chase, who had a reputation for being cruel and sadistic to his family and slaves. Some say that Dorcas was unable to live with the abuse any longer and starved herself to death. Her coffin was added to the vault.
Only a month later, Colonel Thomas Chase committed suicide and when the pallbearers opened the vault a grisly sight met them all. Inside the tomb, both of the little girl's coffins had been seemingly thrown about and were lying in a haphazard fashion on the vault's floor with one coffin left upside down.
The first thought that the men had was that the tomb had been ransacked by grave robbers, but there were no valuables in the tomb to steal and the heavy marble slab used to seal the place up had not been moved.
Despite the mystery, the two coffins were straightened and the body of Colonel Chase was added. The Chase Vault was sealed once more.
Four years later, the vault was once again opened to admit the body of eleven year-old Charles Brewster Ames. Again, the coffins inside the tomb had been flung about... even the 240 pound lead coffin of the colonel. By now, the story had begun to spread around the island and 52 days later when Samuel Brewster was due to be buried, the vault was inspected from the outside for anything out of the ordinary. The found that the vault was airtight and watertight and that nothing could get in or out however, upon opening the tomb, once again they discovered that the coffins had been apparently violently disturbed.
This time, however, one coffin was not out of place... the wooden coffin of Thomasina Goddard. However, it had sustained heavy damage from another coffin smashing into it that Mrs. Goddard's skeleton was sticking out of it.
[img]http://www.slightlywarped.com/crapfactory/awesomemysteries/images/movingcoffins.gif[/img]
By this time, the news of the moving coffins had reached the ears of Barbados' governor, Lord Combermere who decided that the puzzle of the Chase Vault must be solved.
Lord Combermere ordered that the vault be inspected and made impenetrable from the outside. He then ordered that sand by sprinkled on the floor so that footprints would betray any human or animal intruders. Finally, the governor's seal was placed into the fresh cement of the vault seal as an added precaution. This is the way that the vault remained for two years and, during those two years, the curious islanders who wanted to get a look at the infamous Chase Vault reported strange sounds and howls coming from within. The Chase Vault had garnered a very foreboding reputation.
It was time to open the vault and Lord Combermere with eight slaves, a group of able bodied men, and two masons made their way into the cemetery and towards the tomb. As hundreds of onlookers watched, Lord Combermere ordered an inspection of the vault from the outside. Nothing was deemed out of the ordinary or amiss... the vault was just as sturdy as it was when they first surveyed it.
The marble slab was removed and terror greeted Lord Combermere's eyes. The coffins were again violently disturbed and flung about like toys. One coffin was actually leaning up against the door making getting into the vault difficult. Mary Anna's lead coffin had been thrown so violently that a piece actually chipped off.
There were no prints in the sand. No one had entered the vault. Detailed drawings of the scene were made.
[img]http://www.slightlywarped.com/crapfactory/awesomemysteries/images/movingcoffins2.gif[/img] [img]http://www.slightlywarped.com/crapfactory/awesomemysteries/images/movingcoffins4.gif[/img]
By this time, the Chase family could take no more and had the coffins removed from the infamous vault. They were all eventually buried in plots in the cemetery.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator and writer of Sherlock Holmes, proposed along with others that the disturbances were caused by the spirits of two inhabitants of the vault, Dorcas and Thomas, who had committed suicide and, therefore, were cursed and restless. The fact that the coffins had started moving only after Dorcas Chase was buried seemed to support that hypothesis.
[img]http://www.slightlywarped.com/crapfactory/awesomemysteries/images/movingcoffins3.gif[/img] [img]http://www.slightlywarped.com/crapfactory/awesomemysteries/images/movingcoffins5.gif[/img]
There were other explanations, of course, such as human tampering, earthquakes, and explosions but they were all ruled out. Explosions and earthquakes would have disturbed other vaults in the cemetery and human tampering was dismissed due to the fact that the vault seal had not been broken, the marble slab was so heavy it would have taken eight men to move it, and the coffin blocking the door would have made escape for human tricksters impossible.
The most popular theory (disregarding the supernatural ones) is flooding. If the vault had filled with water, the coffins - even the metal ones - would have floated... but if the coffin movement was caused by floodwaters, why was the sand on the floor not disturbed? How would it account for the damage done to the coffins as though they were thrown with great force? Why wasn't flooding observed in any other of the tombs in the cemetery?
The Chase Vault is not the only example of coffins moving around. "The Curious Vault at Stanton in Suffolk" in which coffins were displaced several times under mysterious circumstances is one example. F. A. Paley told of another example when his father was the rector in the parish of Gretford, near Stamford, England. His father noted that two or three times the coffins in a vault were found on re opening to have been moved around. The incidence created some excitement within the village at the time and of course brought out every superstitious belief that existed within the English village. The incident was quickly hushed up out of respect for the family to whom the vault belonged.
Today the Chase Vault still exists, but it is empty and has been for almost two hundred years. No one has tempted fate by allowing a family member to be buried there.
To this day, the mystery is unsolved. Due to a lack of scientific readings done at the time, some have speculated that the creeping coffins of the Chase Vault never existed and that the entire incident was a hoax. However, the Chase Vault does exist and records show that a Chase Family did reside on Barbados at that time... and, perhaps the most convincing evidence of all is that the vault remains to this day, empty.
After all, something cannot be moved if there is nothing to be moved.
Normally, this would be the end of our story had it not been for Lord Combermere himself. Lord Combermere died in 1891, having been struck and killed by a horse-drawn carriage. While his funeral was taking place, a man named Sybell Corbet was busy taking pictures of The Combermere Abby Library. When the photos were developed, one could see a transparent figure sitting in a chair...[url=http://www.slightlywarped.com/crapfactory/ghastlyghostgallery/ghosts/lordcombermere.htm]the ghost of Lord Combermere himself.[/url][/quote]
[QUOTE=LtBubbles;23551980]Guys from the whole thread this has creeped me out most:
[media][URL="http://youtube.com/watch?v=3far9oHZOsI"][COLOR=#ffffff]http://youtube.com/watch?v=3far9oHZOsI[/COLOR][/URL][/media]
(rubber johnny)
I'm way too fucking scared of that shit what the bloody hell is it?
And no i haven't watched it all for obvious reasons. :saddowns:[/QUOTE]
That was hilarious, what are you talking about?
I thought rubber johnny was pretty funny. Whats it supposed to be?
That Fallout thing is awesome :D
[QUOTE=Ender_Wiggin;23567653]I thought rubber johnny was pretty funny. Whats it supposed to be?[/QUOTE]
Music video for Aphex Twin