While I [img]http://d2k5.com/sa_emots/emot-fappery.gif[/img] to some random girl on the internets on stickam, well, I don't have a cam, but anyway, while doing it, I heard some hard hitting near my door. I opened it, and no one was there, I would of caught my dad thinking he was actually trying to make me go to bed since I was up late at night. But saw no one. I closed the door. Without realization that my dad could of done that. But it was at my own door. So anyway, I managed to go back without thinking nothing was going thorough my mind thinking it was something spooky going on. Then it happned again. I open the door, as soon as it did again. And I thought I saw a outline of a ghostly figure it would moved quickly across the hall into the lounge. I didn't follow. And closed the door, turned my pc, and went to bed, awaiting for it happen again. But didn't. So it must of played a knock knock joke on me.
Knock knock.
Whose there?
Ghost.
Ghost who?
Ghost go boo.
[img]http://d2k5.com/sa_emots/emot-ghost.gif[/img]
Well done for bumping this thread.
I read the title Scary [B]Fucking[/B] stories...
You know. Scary stories, where people fuck.
Where did you get that pic of my granny... ?
I think the real question is, why is your granny forcing people to suicide?
[QUOTE=Mckillyou;13248752][IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v662/blackninja33/smile_jpg___spreading_the_word_by_N.jpg[/IMG][/QUOTE]
Seriously? Use the original, this ones absolutely horrid.
[IMG]http://www.aetherparanormal.com/smile.dog.jpg[/IMG]
Original, non-horrid one.
[QUOTE=Sasupoika;13249526]So, once I was alone in my home, playing metal slug 3. All sudden, I got urge to phone-prank someone. So, I called totally random number. Some guy answered me, and it seemed that he had making-out session with his girlfriend, so I said to him "What are you doing to my daughter?". So, the guy tells his girlfriend that his dad called, but I could heard her say: "My dad is [b]dead.[/b]"
Then guy yelled "THEN WHO WAS PHONE?", and quickly ended the call. That yell really freaked me out.
But then, true thing that creeped me out was that I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD DAUGHTER, OR THAT I WAS [b]DEAD[/b].
( Really original, scary and well written. )[/QUOTE]
That THEN WHO WAS PHONE! thing I saw a guy with that for his name.
I thought i was going to see new stories, not some story about the incredibly old smiledog
Once there was an ugly barnacle, he was so ugly that everyone DIED!
The end.
[QUOTE=john_frohman;21640036]Once there was an ugly barnacle, he was so ugly that everyone DIED!
The end.[/QUOTE]
Once there was a staggeringly unfunny guy (Sea creature?). He was so staggeringly unfunny, a serial killer ripped out all his teeth, nailed his lips to his gums with those teeth, then pulled of the man's jaw and suffocated him with it.
Fin.
Once, there was a rip in the fabric of existance, and Twilight became reality.
The end.
I shat my self reading that.
a scary fucking story huh
There was this girl I knew, we started talking and the next thing I know, I'm in her bed. We start to fuck so I stuck my dick inside of her pussy. Once I was inside of her she tells me "I have AIDs."
There was a haunted house where supposedly, every night, a bloody head fell down the chimney. At least that's what people said. So nobody would stay there overnight. Then, a rich man offered two hundred dollars to whoever would do it. And a boy said he would try if he could have his dog with him. So it was all settled. The very next night the boy went to the house with his dog. To make it more cheerful, he started a fire in the fireplace. Then he sat in front of the fire and waited, and his dog waited with him.
For a while nothing happened. But a little after midnight he heard someone singing softly off in the woods. The singing sounded something like this: "Me tie dough-ty walker..." "It's just somebody singing," the boy told himself, but he was frightened. Then his dog answered the song! Softly and sadly, it sang: "Lynchee kinchy, colly molly, dingo dingo...." The boy could not believe his ears, His dog had never uttered a word before.
Then a few minutes later, he heard the singing again. Now it was closer, and louder, but the words were the same: "Me tie dough-ty walker..." This time the boy tried to stop his dog from answering, he was afraid that whoever was singing would hear it and come for them. But his dog paid no attention, and again it sang: "Lynchee kinchy colly molly dingo dingo..." A half-hour later the boy heard the singing again. Now it was in the back yard, and the song was the same. "ME TIE DOUGH-TY WALKER!" Again the boy tried to keep his dog quiet. But the dog sang out louder then ever: "LYNCHEE KINCHY, COLLY MOLLY, DINGO DINGO!" Soon the boy heard the singing again. Now it was coming down the chimney and yelled: "ME TIE DOUGH-TY WALKER!" The dog sang right back: "LYNCHEE KINCHY, COLLY MOLLY, DINGO DINGO!" Suddenly a bloody head fell out of the chimney! It missed the fire and landed right next to the dog. The dog took one look at it and fell over--dead from fright! The head turned and stared at the boy and slowly it opened its mouth and screamed...
AHHHHHHHHHH
Scary Stories in the dark are the best stories I ever read.
[QUOTE]It was a few weeks ago that the hay bales started creeping slowly away from the house. Every morning when I woke up, each had moved a few hundred feet from where it was before. I assumed it was pranksters with nothing better to do, and I so I ignored it. Within a few days, though, the bales began to approach the boundaries of the farm. I was tired of the whole game by then, and decided to move them back. It took a tedious hour to bring them all from where they were to over near the house again, and by the time I was done I was ready to snap the neck of whatever little pissant was deciding to screw with me.
The next morning, I found each and every one of my horses messily decapitated. The smell was what woke me up. Each one was slumped over against the side of its stall. There were no signs of the heads. I spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess and burying the remains. It was only when I was done that I noticed the bales of hay had all returned to their positions from the day before, scattered far out into the fields. This time I left them where they were.
That night I sat on my porch with my shotgun in hand and a pot of coffee on the table beside me. I sat for hours, straining my eyes into the fields to catch a glimpse of who was moving my hay bales. Finally, I was beginning to nod off. I would have, but just as my eyes began to close I heard a clamor and a rustling of trees from the nearby woods. I leaned forward, my heart racing with excitement; I was going to catch the bastard. I fumbled with my gun and fidgeted in my seat, waiting anxiously for whoever it was to get close enough to ambush. It was only when the thing got close enough for me to make out its silhouette in the dark that I was frozen still. The thing that crept into my fields from the nearby woods didn’t seem to notice me sitting there. It stalked, hunched and deliberate, through the field with the posture of a tiptoeing thief. If not for the fact that it must have towered to over ten feet tall even in its crouched position, it might have seemed almost frail. The thinness of its arms and legs and the emaciated, caved-in quality of its chest reminded me of a starving animal. Still, this thing was undeniably strong, and I watched it hoist each bale up into its arms with ease, and set it down carefully a while away, taking only a few strides to cover the distance. I watched it work, moving each bale thoughtfully. Every once in a while it would straighten up to look around at the other bales’ positions in the field, before adjusting the one it was working on ever so slightly.
Before it left, it looked towards the house. I felt its eyes sweep over me in the dark, but whether it saw me or not I couldn’t tell. Then, it turned silently and crept back the way it came, disappearing into the dark of the woods. It took me an hour before I had the courage to move at all. I went inside after a while, but didn’t sleep that night. It was only when the sun rose that I dared step off my porch into the fields. The hay bales were where it left them. Strangely, it didn’t move them as far as it had in the previous days. They were approaching something invisible in the fields, and as I looked at them I realized that they seemed to be marking some line. Indeed, as I walked around the house, I saw the distinct circle that they formed with me at the center. At first I thought the bales were just being haphazardly moved away from the house, but now I could see that they were instead being moved towards some boundary. The thing was sending me a message. I slept uneasily that night, and only because I was exhausted.
The next morning the bales hadn’t moved at all. They didn’t move at all for the rest of that week, in fact. They were finally where the thing wanted them. I made myself sick trying to interpret them. Why would this thing expend so much energy moving my hay bales, and threaten me with such violence should I try to interfere? Killing my horses was just that - a threat. An intelligent threat, at that. It knew what would scare me, and it knew that I would understand the implications.
The sound of an automobile working its way along the road to my farm one morning gave me a little rush of excitement. I’d been planning to abandon the farm since I saw the thing, but I couldn’t hope to leave on foot without risking it treating me like it treated my horses. But, if I could get in the car with whoever was coming my way, I might be able to escape before it could stop me. I didn’t know or care who it was. I decided that the moment they stopped the car, I would jump in the passenger’s seat and tell them to get the hell out of here. I didn’t get the chance.
The car worked its way slowly along the road, trundling across the uneven ground. I urged it silently to hurry. It was when it passed between the two bales placed on either side of the road that I began to hear a booming clatter from the woods. The thing burst suddenly from between the trees, sprinting on all four of its terrible, gangly limbs towards the car. Within a few seconds it was there, pouncing on the automobile like a predatory cat. Within moments it was picking and peeling the vehicle’s steel frame apart, working to get at the driver. The man, whoever he was, screamed all the while and I could hear him even over the crunching of metal and the shattering of glass. It was only when the thing crushed him carelessly in its hand that the screaming stopped. It tossed him away, and straightened up to look at me once again. In the sunlight, I could see the inhumanity of it. It was composed entirely of something awful and alive which was lashed together in a messy semblance of a human form. Whatever it was made of looked so polished and hard, that if it weren’t for the minute writhing of the stuff, I’d think it was made of granite.
The thing retreated back into the woods, and I was left to my shock. My eyes wandered to where the car sat, the engine still sputtering, between two of the hay bales. Suddenly, I understood. The message was clear. I am this thing’s captive, and I am not allowed visitors. Nothing may cross the borders it has set. I’m trapped here, by the thing that stalks the fields, and it demands nothing except that I never leave. Still, I don’t know if I can handle being that thing’s canary. I’ve been thinking hard for the last few days since I saw it crush that man’s chest, and silence him before he could finish his scream. If I crossed the hay bale border, it’d probably do the same. It’d smash my skull before I could put my hands up to protect myself. It’d go and find a new pet, and probably keep looking until it found someone who could stand knowing that it was waiting just outside, watching it at all hours with its shiny, insect eyes.
I’ve been thinking hard for the last few days, and I might just make a run for it.
[/QUOTE]
Not really a scary story, but a "makes you think" story. Like this one time where Keith and I tried to deep-fry a turkey, but we had no grease! So, we figured that gasoline burns, don't it? Keith had burns over [i]90 %[/i] of his body! People were calling up from other towns complaining about the smell! Man, I miss Keith.
[QUOTE=eatdembeanz;21640383]Not really a scary story, but a "makes you think" story. Like this one time where Keith and I tried to deep-fry a turkey, but we had no grease! So, we figured that gasoline burns, don't it? Keith had burns over [i]90 %[/i] of his body! People were calling up from other towns complaining about the smell! Man, I miss Keith.[/QUOTE]
This one time my buddy Keith, on a DARE, got a tattoo: I'm a moron right across his forehead. Course Keith made two hundred bucks off that so... you ask yourself: who's the REAL moron.
What is wrong with you ppl ?
I dosen't get scared reading this and the picture......I laughed so hard at that cutie dog , no seriously .
[QUOTE=Fleskhjerta;21694469]What is wrong with you ppl ?
I dosen't get scared reading this and the picture......I laughed so hard at that cutie dog , no seriously .[/QUOTE]
no the rumor is that if you see the picture that you will have trouble sleeping and have satanic nightmares or worse
very scray :ohdear:
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