I tell you, those re-writes of the stories in Soviet Russian style are some of the best things I've read all day. Please, do more. They're great!
i like thread
a man on the buisness trip went stayed at a motel in the mittle of nowere. he went to get a room and got the key to the room and the woman at the desk says, "dont go to the room thats got 7 on the door its haunted!" hes very scared at this but is also brave to. he goes and puts his bags in him room then heads to room number 7. he opens the door but its dark so he turns on the lites and all his family and friend from town are there and they yell, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" he is so suprised and happy because he forgotten it was his birthday bcause he had work. he had a fun party and then they went home and he went back to his room and slept the night. next morning he turns on the news on and sees that a fire actuly killed his hole family and freinds yesterday bfore the party!!! (they were ghosts)
[quote]At 3 [B]p.m.[/B] that night Jane came into the room to get some of her things because she was going back out with some of her other friends.[/quote]
I am pretty sure this is supposed to be AM.
Unless the person doesn't have any rods in her eyes.
I've read the last one countless times, pretty creepy still.
one day there was a furry that couldnt log on to furanity
one day his mum walked into the basement
and he was dead lol
As if you'd leave your door unlocked during the night..
The first one is retarded.
One day a man walked into a shop and bought some beans and a newspaper. He walked out and went back to his house, his wife kissed him and his kids hugged him. He cooked the beans and read the newspaper. In the newspaper, it said about Genetically Modified crops, his wife said that he shouldn't eat them as they're against god.
He ate the beans and turned into a zombie, then he ate his wife and children and spread zombies around the world, until it reached Chicago where Chicago Ted ended to plague.
[QUOTE=lazyguy;22278871]A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. She explained that it was a storeroom, and that it was out of bounds. She reminded him of this several times before allowing him upstairs. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed. However the insistence of the woman had piqued his curiosity, so the next night he walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye.
What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was incredibly pale. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while, was this a celebrity? The owners daughter? He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to. As he was still looking, the woman turned sharply and he jumped back from the door, hoping she would not suspect he had been spying on her. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red. He felt embarrassed that he had made the woman so uncomfortable, and hoped she had not made a complaint with the woman on the front desk.
At this point he decided to consult her for more information. After some gentle quizzing and the promise that the explanation would go no further than him she finally said "Well, I might as well tell you the story of what happened in that room. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in there, we find that even now, people get uncomfortable staying there. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red."[/QUOTE]
Holy shit they were keeping a Left 4 Dead witch in the room.
[editline]01:27PM[/editline]
[QUOTE=DarkSpirit05er;22290118][img_thumb]http://dl.dropbox.com/u/5270753/dFNIH.png[/img_thumb]
Right click -> View image[/QUOTE]
Jesus christ fuck
[QUOTE=The BoxDog;22280500]I'm working on it[/QUOTE]
Original Creepypasta, I've read through the ED page many times and there is simply not enough
The "white skin and red eyes" was too sudden, but the realization effect was pretty good.
[editline]11:06PM[/editline]
This thread is full of creepy.
I looooove creepy-pasta!
[QUOTE=Black Fedora] My neighbor, Mr. White, is usually a quiet old man, spending his days in a rocking chair on his porch, watching the city and his life pass by. However, to say that he’s odd would be an understatement. He dresses from head to toe in solid black clothes, the few times I’ve talked to him he’s seemed like a nice guy ( a little standoffish perhaps), nothing to indicate why he dresses in all the flamboyant colors of a chimney sweep.
It was the first day in August when the screaming began. 1:00 am sharp in the morning a horrible scream pierces the thin wall between our flats. As suddenly as it started, it stops, leaving my heart hammering and my mind awake. This continues for the rest of the week, but each time I make up my mind to confront him about it, the screaming stops and I lose the nerve to knock on his door. The next day he’s out on the front porch again, dressed in his usual black attire, from black shoes, up to black socks, pants, jacket, shirt, glasses, and finally hat. “Good morning.” he mumbles as I pass. I almost stop and ask him about the past few nights, but the way he rocks back and forth on his chair, his head pointed straight ahead of him, I’m still too weirded out to talk to him about it.
I get back that evening to see him take off in an airport shuttle. Now, I haven’t seen Mr. White leave his house in the two years I’ve lived next to him, but I figure his sudden departure simply means it’ll be that much easier for me to get some sleep. Unfortunately, as soon as I get settled down into bed, I hear a new noise, a noise I hadn’t noticed earlier. My bed lies against our adjoining wall, so I can hear water running in the pipes whenever he has the faucet on. As I lie there, I can hear water rushing. Two hours and no sleep later, I realize that the noise from the pipes is even more disruptive than the screaming. I figure I’ll do us both a service and shut the running faucet off. So I dress, grab a few supplies, and head over to his door. I’ve lost my keys enough times to figure out how to jimmy a lock, so I shove a couple paper clips into the doorknob and wiggle ‘em around a bit. Soon enough I hear that soft ‘click’ and enter his flat.
The place is in shambles. Like somebody had been running around knocking everything over. Books and magazines litter the floor and half the furniture has been knocked over and shoved against a wall. I head toward the sound of running water and enter Mr. White’s bathroom. Blood Everywhere. The walls are covered in blood, the bathtub has blood running down into it, and the edges of the sink have bits of bloody hair and flesh around the edges.
I turn off the faucet and then turn myself to get the fuck out of there. And that’s when the fucking lights go out. “Pop” goes the bulbs in the bathroom. I flip out and bolt out of there. That’s when I make the mistake of looking behind me. From the gloom of the bathroom I see that there’s something watching me, its eyes reflecting some unknown light.
I don’t really remember the next minute, but the next thing I know I’m standing in my own bathroom, in my own apartment, with my pants heavy with my own piss. Shit. Some fucking shiny thing in the bathroom looks like eyeballs and I piss myself. I take a shower and go back to my bedroom to grab some new pants. But as I’m putting them on I look out the window. It’s fucking watching me, its eyes a glow in the darkness outside. I scream and almost ruin my second pair. But a moment later they’re gone. I call myself a dumbass for falling victim to my own imagination and go to the living room. Sleep’s out of the question, but maybe I can kill my fear with some horrible late-night television.
Everything’s cool for the first hour and half, then a commercial comes on where the background is black. You know how you can see your reflection in the TV when the screen is dark? Well I see me. I also see the fucking eyes glowing at me from the darkness behind my couch.
Frozen to my chair I watch them watch me. Never moving, never blinking, the beast in the shadows has me steady in its gaze. I snap out of it suddenly, doing a half-flip half-barrel roll away from the couch and onto the floor. Of course, when I look again, they’re gone. This shit’s too crazy for me, my last bastion of defense lies in my copious alcohol collection. Practically sprinting to the kitchen, I grab a bottle of something strong and fill the glass. Glug glug glug, raising the glass over my lips and above my head until it’s empty. But there’s something else in the bottom of the glass, I see those fucking eyes again. I slam the glass down and catch a glimmer of light as the beast takes off down my dark hallway. Shit. Shitshitshitshit.
Five minutes later, all the lights in the house are on and I’m decked out in a flashlight and a kitchen knife. Well, I should say all the lights are on but one. The hallway light died as I flipped it on, giving a soft ‘pufft’ of bulby death. At the end of the dark hallway lie two doors, a closet and the door out of my apartment. It’s time to get there or die trying. I creep down into the increasingly dark corridor, my flashlight and knife a foot in front of me. The goddamn closet door is open.
I think I see the beast’s eyes again as I near the closet, but it’s just the latch on the door. I reach the closet door. Breathless, I pull the knife back and get ready to strike.
“Haaahhhh!!!” is my battle-cry as I turn the corner. Nothing. No beast and no beasty eyes. I close the closet and continue to the front door, resolute in my escape. That’s when I notice another thing wrong; the outside light usually seeps in through the crack under my door. Fuck! So close and more shit happens. Playing it safe I edge up to the door and peer out the eyepiece. Two glowing eyes look back at me. I scream for the third time that night and go running back up the hallway to the light of the living room, leaving the knife and my only flashlight lying by the front door.
There’s no escape. I get ready to barricade myself in a corner. I grab the TV cabinet and began to push it toward the center of the room. It’s watching me. The space between the wall and the cabinet. Three fucking inches wide. The beast’s eyes glare at me. Its gaze is neither malevolent or friendly. Just two, perfectly round, shining orbs.
That’s it, I’m done. I collapse backwards onto the floor and back away to the wall, watching the eyes. Watching the eyes watching me. Watching the eyes watching me watching it. I sit there, staring. They don’t move. Nor do I. the night creeps by second after second, me caught in this horribly twisted staring contest. I just wish I knew what they wanted. If the beast attacked me, if it revealed itself, I could know what I’m up against. I might even figure out how I’ll die before it kills me. No. It stays in the crack between my wall and my TV and watches with infinite patience.
The darkness outside dissolves into a gray morning, and the eyes begin to lose their glimmer. As the sun lights my living room, the beast retreats, gone into the shadow it came from. To where I have no fucking idea.
I pack my things. I’m going away, fuck knows where, but I’m getting at least a thousand miles between me and here before night falls again. Two shots of bourbon wish me on my way as I grab my suitcase and set off for the front door.
“Knock, knock” someone get there first. I jump, dropping my stuff and getting ready to bolt back to the nearest corner, “knock, knock”. But reason grabs me by the heels, whispering in my ear that the fucking night monster wouldn’t be courteous enough to knock before killing me. Slowly I open it. Mr. White is standing there, resplendent in his black hat, sunglasses, shirt, jacket, pants, socks, and shoes. “Good morning, Steven.” says he.
“Hi.” says I.
“Say Steven, did anyone go into my apartment while I was gone? There are footprints leading from my bathroom to my door. Notice he neglects to mention what the footprints are formed of. “Uh, no Mr. White, I’ve been in my apartment all night and I didn’t hear anything.” (If you think I’m about to admit to a man that has blood all over his bathroom and a monster living in his house that I broke into his house, then you are very mistaken). “That’s good Steven, I have many fragile belongings that could easily be destroyed or stolen by a malicious soul. You have a good day.”
“You too, man.”
He turns to leave and then turns back to me smiling, “Oh and Steven,” he says, “I couldn’t help but notice bloody footprints leading from my door to yours.” His smile gets even wider. He leans in, bringing our face right next to each other. He removes his sunglasses. . Revealing two empty pits in his face… . . “I’ll be keeping my eyes on you.”
[/QUOTE]
Pond Run Road, off US 52
New Richmond, OH
Along this road, spots for pulling a car over are constantly being disposed of. This comes after many reports of lovers finding a hook on their car door. Here is an account from a woman, named Jane Doe. John pulled his car over, and turned it off. He groped around the car to find his girlfriend, and she giggled. They embraced, but soon stopped. There were steps approaching the car.They hadn't seen lights, so it had to be the old man who lived up on the hill. They ducked down, out of sight of the windows. They heard scratching on the door, and John snuck his hand up to scare the man away. He started to pound on the window, and steps ran around to the back of the car. John told Jane to get under the blanket in the back of the car while he talked to the man. She agreed, and crawled back. John opened the door, locked it, and shut it. She laid there for what seemed like eternity, and it suddenly became light out. She realized she had fallen asleep. She heard sirens outside the car. She peeked out, and saw a police officer trying to get into the car. She climbed up onto the seat, and saw the cop jump. He motioned for her to unlock the door, and she did. She climbed out, and he told her to walk towards the emergency vehicles without looking back. She didn't listen, and looked at the top of the car. It was turned red, from its original teal color, and a body became a new decoration. There was red blood oozing from the body, and the head turned toward her. It said, "Jane...." She stared to cry because she realized it was her lover. She ran to the police cars, and was led into the car by three more officers. They told her they found a hook on the door she was facing away from, blood soaked and made for an amputated hand.
There was an abandonned school building which was several decades old. Some of the people who lived near the old building asked the mayor of the town why it hasn't been broken down. Apparently, there have been 3 dozen attempts to demolish the school over the past 70 years. Some of the children heard of this and decided it would be fun to explore the school, so they all set out to the abandonned school. In the dead of night, 7 children went in. Surprisingly, there was a layout of the school on a wall, covered by a sheet of broken glass. They were able to make out some of the map, yet the rest had faded, specifically, a small part near the bottom that read of something unusual, yet undeterminable.
The children then decided to stick together, and go into the halls. Several parts of the school had been ruined from age, yet none of it seemed to be damaged from something of a truck or bulldozer. There were chips in the walls, coat racks that lay on the floor, and a few holes in the hall. As they ventured further, there were cracking sounds that silenced the children. They stopped, and waited. All of a sudden, a large part fo the floor started to crumble underneath their feet, falling to a bottomless pit. They ran for their lives, yet only 5 of them survived, the other's screams, echoing from the hole. The children mourned their losses for a moment when one of them said they wanted to go home.
Everyone looked behind them the way they had come, yet none of it looked familiar. The straight path they were taking, now curved and made sharp turns, and doors scattered along the wall. While they were walking through the hall, they heard a scratching sound. Thinking someone else was there with them, they scrambled towards the sound, and reached a door where the scratching was loud and clear. One of them opened the door slowly, the creaking of the door echoing through the halls, and there was a classroom inside, with desks and chairs all in a pile, several of them broken. Yet what caught everyone's eyes was a small boy, made of what seemed to be fog, holding a piece of chalk, writing on the chalkboard. The boy looked over at all the children, vanished into thin air, the piece of chalk falling to the ground. All the children then started to panic. They closed the door and leaned back against it. Suddenly, down the hall, light seemed to be fading.
The darkness was growing stronger, making almmost the entire hallway pitch black. The children screamed and ran for their lives. 1 child tripped, and grunted as he got back up, yet no one had stopped for him. He looked at the darkness, as it engulfed him. A loud scream made it's way to the children's ears, and they stopped. The darkness ahd also stopped, not going past the moonlight which spilled through the open window. One boy opened their backpack, and brought out a flashlight. He turned it on and pointed it at the darkness, which seemed to growl quietly. He pointed it at a corner, hoping he could drive it off slowly. There, the darkness withdrew, but only slightly. The boy exhaled a sigh of releif, and pointed the flashlight away, only to see the darkness resume the corner. The children then mourned slightly, and headed in the opposite direction. not knowing where they were going, they wandered into a large room, which they presumed to be the cafeteria. They walked past the broken benches and tables, scared half to death. Then, the darkness started up from the door they came from, and the children, with no exit in sight, held on to eachother tightly, and prayed it wouldn't do anything.
The darkness engulfed them, but, just before it got too close, the boy turned on the flashlight, making a slightly visible path. The children rejoiced and followed the boy. after several minutes, the flashlight started to flicker and then turn off. The children started to cry, but the boy was determined to get out and looked through the dark, and exclaimed that he saw a light. Everyone and looked and saw the ornage light that grew bigger, then stopped. The light then grew smaller and all the children followed it for what seemed to be years and years. The children started to see another light, and came close enough to see it was moonlight. The orange light vanished, a very, very faint moan of agony emitting form it, and the children ran happily to the moonlight. they reached the edge of the darkness, and one by one, slipped through, but only 3 of them. They realized this and sadness engulfed them yet again. The children walked towards the moonlight, and saw the door they had come from, and they rushed towards the door.
The boy with the flashlight looked over at the map on the wall, and all the glass was completely gone, and the map was fully visible, some of it, he recognized, was drawn with black ink, yet the rest was drawn with a dark red ink that seemed to drip. And at the bottom, there, written in the same ink as the rest of the map, in large letters was a simple message. "YOU WILL NEVER LEAVE" was all it said. Shivers crawled through his spine as he read this. He ignored this and went with the other children who were gathered around the door. They exclaimed that the door was locked, and everyone began to panic. Then, a noise was made, and everyone stopped. After waiting, the noise came again, a very faint moan, similar to the one of the orange light. The boy took out the flashlight and began to frantically try to turn it on. The noise grew louder, and louder, and then, somewhere in the darkness, there was the orange light, slowly becoming larger. And then, it disappeared, a thick line of fog in it's place, and the children could just barely see the face of an elderly man in the front of the line. The fog then scrambled around the room, and then grew wide and rushed at the children, moaning. The children screamed and the boy dropped the flashlight. The children fell to the ground, life gone from their hearts. The flashlight rolled over to the map, rolling in one spot, the light finally on and pointing directly at the message. Then, finally flickered, and then turned off, allowing the darkness to spread through the room.
Walking home one night, you notice all the candles in personal shack are lit.
You finish vodka bottle as you approach your door.
House is empty, and you made sure not to feed guard dog, but candles still go out.
You check your pocket watch, small hand on 4, big hand on 1. You relise you'll be late for unpaid community service.
At service, you find letter on floor. It's signed to you, from you. You open the letter, confused.
Inside reads "the out for watch watch"
You look at pocket watch. big hand on 4, little hand on one. You look at note again, it appears the 4th and 1st words have swapped places.
"Watch out for the watch."
You look at pocket watch again.
You realise watch is broken, and decide you must get it fixed. You also decide to cut back on vodka, so as to not send letters to yourself anymore.
Such is life in mother Russia.
[QUOTE=Tacooo;22278314]Yeah, me too maybe they made the children some "Daddy-Cakes"?[/QUOTE]
Even though he's gone from this world, a part of him will be inside of you for the next 6 hours.
And, yes, I know I'm late on this!
[QUOTE=Chrille;22280529]There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.
As he looked around the inside of the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredibl detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning, the hunter awoke -- he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.[/QUOTE]
One night man tries escape from gulag.
Makes his way to cabin in middle of tundra. Inside is plain, but many family pictures on walls. He falls asleep. In middle of night he is put in sack and dragged out. The next morning he is shot like dog.
Pictures are windows. KGB always watching.
Urban Legends are fucking awesome.
[QUOTE=rosar0980;22308815]Pond Run Road, off US 52
New Richmond, OH
Along this road, spots for pulling a car over are constantly being disposed of. This comes after many reports of lovers finding a hook on their car door. Here is an account from a woman, named [B]Jane Doe[/B].[/QUOTE]
I officially can't think of that name anymore without a picture of soldier coming up.
[IMG_THUMB]http://www.tfportal.de/gfx/news/propagandacontest/manly_soldier.jpg[/IMG_THUMB]
Try thinking of it happening with this guy there.
[QUOTE=rosar0980;22308815]Pond Run Road, off US 52
New Richmond, OH
Along this road, spots for pulling a car over are constantly being disposed of. This comes after many reports of lovers finding a hook on their car door. Here is an account from a woman, named Jane Doe. John pulled his car over, and turned it off. He groped around the car to find his girlfriend, and she giggled. They embraced, but soon stopped. There were steps approaching the car.They hadn't seen lights, so it had to be the old man who lived up on the hill. They ducked down, out of sight of the windows. They heard scratching on the door, and John snuck his hand up to scare the man away. He started to pound on the window, and steps ran around to the back of the car. John told Jane to get under the blanket in the back of the car while he talked to the man. She agreed, and crawled back. John opened the door, locked it, and shut it. She laid there for what seemed like eternity, and it suddenly became light out. She realized she had fallen asleep. She heard sirens outside the car. She peeked out, and saw a police officer trying to get into the car. She climbed up onto the seat, and saw the cop jump. He motioned for her to unlock the door, and she did. She climbed out, and he told her to walk towards the emergency vehicles without looking back. She didn't listen, and looked at the top of the car. It was turned red, from its original teal color, and a body became a new decoration. There was red blood oozing from the body, and the head turned toward her. It said, "Jane...." She stared to cry because she realized it was her lover. She ran to the police cars, and was led into the car by three more officers. They told her they found a hook on the door she was facing away from, blood soaked and made for an amputated hand.[/QUOTE]
Nov. Savinskiy, off P-316
Magnitogorsk, USSR
Is two lovers, Vladimir and Olga. Vladimir pull his most glorious soviet-made car over, and turn off engine. He grope around the car to find woman, and she giggle. They embrace, but soon stopped. There steps approach the car.They see no lights, so is old man who live up on hill. They duck down, out of sight of windows. They hear scratching on the door, and Vladimir put hand up to scare the man away. He pound on window, and steps run to back of car. Vladimir tell Olga to get under the potato sacks in the back of the car while he talk to the man. She agree, and crawl back. John opened the door, and is black bagged for hide from KGB. Both is send Gulag for benefit of all Soviet peoples.
Such is life in Russia.
I'm scared shitless now. Seriously, I get scared by the slightest thing. And I can't stop reading them once I start, either.
[QUOTE=cheesedelux;22290371]Legend is being going like this.
You entering bathroom and standing in front of mirror. Turning candles off and, while being in front of mirror, spinning rapidly, you chanting "Leon Trotsky" "Leon Trotsky" "Leon Trotsky" "Leon Trotsky", several times, while catching glimpses of self on mirror. It is said that eventually you be seeing image of Leon Trotsky on mirror.
Upon exiting bathroom you are being arrested by KGB for believing in existence of Leon Trotsky, whom the party as proven never existed.
Such is life in Moscow.
[editline]12:10AM[/editline]
In any Russian town seek out House for Reeducation of Mentally Unfit. Ask House Direktor to speak with Holder of End. Direktor will take you down, past root cellar, past beet storage, until you reach small room. Inside will be comrade of continuous talking to self. Language will possibly be inferior Czech or filthy American. If talking cease, say 'Da, comrade. Here for speaking'. If talking to self stop, share vodka with Direktor and fear not, for you are proud Soviet.If talking to self continue, ask mentally unfit 'What happen when all come together, in perfect Communist Union?'. Retard will then answer, but due to inferior Reeducation facility, answer will be incorrect. Report Direktor to KGB at once.
Also, mentally unfit will have tchotke in hands. Take from them and deliver to KGB. Possession is not an ideal for mentally unfit. If you have farm, you may take retard to works fields, after sterilization.
There are 2,538 retards of such. KGB is wishing to recover all.[/QUOTE]
Make more of these. They make me feel more comfortable.
"Daddy, I had a bad dream."
You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it's 3:23. "Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?" "No, Daddy."
The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room.
"Why not sweetie?"
"Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up." For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter.
The covers behind you begin to shift.
_________________
"Father, I had a bad dream"
You take sip of vodka and roll over. You stare at clock tower on Sobornaya Square; it is 3:23. "Go back to sleep, there is work tomorrow."
"No, Father."
You feel familiar warm buzz of vodka starting to sink in. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in darkness of room. "Why is that, devochka moya?"
"Because in dream, when I go back to sleep, the thing wearing Mother's skin sat up."
You pause, and face your daughter and look at her intensely. The figure behind you begins to stir.
"Don't talk that way about your brother, it is not his fault we have no money for coats.”
Such is life in Moscow.
[QUOTE=chills2;22309681]One night man tries escape from gulag.
Makes his way to cabin in middle of tundra. Inside is plain, but many family pictures on walls. He falls asleep. In middle of night he is put in sack and dragged out. The next morning he is shot like dog.
Pictures are windows. KGB always watching.[/QUOTE]
That was a really good one actually :P
These are terrible Urban Legends. Where's Mothman and Slenderman?
seems like the work of the grifter.
[QUOTE=johanz;22280974]Interesting. I'd like to see 5 legged rat with 3 heads and a spiked tail.[/QUOTE]
or mabye six-butted monkies?
Soviet ones are the best
.
Post copy pasta, receive nothing.
why bother?
[QUOTE=Henzukaya;22309603]Even though he's gone from this world, a part of him will be inside of you for the next 6 hours.
And, yes, I know I'm late on this![/QUOTE]
clocks for you!
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