|
Accordion Man posted:Sounds like the same thing that happened to Slenderman, started off creepy but then nerds on the Internet had to make a whole "mythos" out of it and ruin everything that made the character unnerving in the first place because they are all poo poo at writing. I'm also wondering where the heck the name " Jeff the Killer" came from. That's like the least scary name for any horror figure ever even by creepy pasta standards . It's like if Slenderman was called Lanky Dave or Dagon was Fish Dude.
|
#
?
Jul 17, 2015 21:04
|
|
|
|
| # ? May 23, 2024 13:40 |
|
|
Lanky Dave and Fish Dude sound like good names though??
|
|
#
?
Jul 17, 2015 21:31
|
|
|
Last night I found out a business acquaintance and one of his acquaintances have both done ghost hunting in the past. I'm hoping to pester one or both of them to let me in on that in the future. Should be a grand old time. 
|
|
#
?
Jul 17, 2015 22:13
|
|
|
Slenderman was an Olympic runner before he died that was very disappointed by child obesity rates.
|
|
#
?
Jul 18, 2015 17:34
|
|
|
All those times I didn’t think I could get through the next moment without laying blame, I put it on you. Anyone ever tell you you’re clumsy? “Not in the last five minutes.” You knew how to make me laugh, I’ll give you that. I never cared much for beards until I met yours. That hair you kept long while all the other men we knew shaved away their bald spots. The almost desperate way you refused to wear anything more than a tee and jeans. Tennis shoes. What did I care? Neither of us did formal, and I never seemed better than when I felt your hair tickling my face. Sweat dripping on my eyelids. My live-in caveman. What’s it going to take to get this place in shape, Caveman? “More than I can do from the look of things.” Not like I had any idea what it might take. When problems involved computers, hardware and software, sure. But tools? Saws and screwdrivers sent me packing while you maintained a head for structural engineering. Still, who’d you call when your web browser loaded up nothing but toolbars? Who scrubbed your porn folder for malware? “While I’m finishing up here, you want to take a look at my laptop? poo poo ain’t loading right.” Sure. Anything for my live-in caveman. I put the screwdriver you knocked off on the edge of the desk. Not where it went, but like I said before... I have to admit you talked me into this place. Not exactly my first choice with its oogy dirt floor basement and an addition put together with all the DIY chops of a four-year-old. That tiny bathroom you had to sit with the door open. Knees sticking out. What would happen if we ended up somewhere else? How about the place with the kitchen downstairs and nowhere to park? Not that we had much choice with our budget. Our credit scores. We had each other and not much else. Okay, we also had too many boxes. I made you carry the heavy ones. You only broke maybe half of the plates, but still you blamed it on the movers. Never before did we share anything living. As soon as we moved in you wanted a cat and a dog. Roughly the same size so one wouldn’t eat more than the other. We’re not dog people, I had to remind you. Too high maintenance. Who’s going to walk it? Clean up the poop? You put on your best eager toddler face, but in your heart you kept a better grasp of the truth. You settled on a cactus. Named it something dry like Edward. Edwina, maybe. After a couple of days you had ten or twelve other things to call it, none of them very flattering. Was it a boy or a girl? You never did say. This string of events lead to something I can’t quite explain. I feel weird even saying anything, but I think you should know what happened. Just in case. As you might remember, we just got the bed upstairs and I needed a nap. You went to get more screws or whatever. I only half heard what you said after I laid down. The room felt warm, but not in an uncomfortable way. Just right. How we never seemed to get the old place in the winter. No sheets, not even a pillow. I thought of you between my legs how I always did when I wanted to fall asleep quick and happy. I guess I woke up after you came back. I heard you in the bathroom down the hall. Banging around. Maybe you couldn’t find what you needed. Even though I didn’t want to get up, I had to pee, and the toilet off our bedroom still wouldn’t flush. I could barely see. No light except for the one over the sink. I didn’t think I slept all that long. An hour at most, but the clock said a little after one o’clock. The one I didn’t think we bothered to unpack. The one you still needed to have someone look at. I shuffled into the bathroom doorway and a cat curled around my legs. The tuxedo one we fell in love with at the shelter not even a week before. When we promised we’d wait until the house felt more like home. I bent down to pet it, but it moved just out of reach. Then I heard you. Angry. Consumed. You never lost your temper since you quit caffeine. I thought you broke something. One of your tools. A tile in the shower. You hunched over the toilet, hair all in your face. You had something in your hand. A pair of pliers? I touched your shoulder and you yanked them apart. I saw three fingers on the floor next to the toilet. Like those gummi candies, except thick and misshapen. You stood. Threw the pliers in the sink with a grunt. Let me see! But you wouldn’t show me, stubborn caveman. “Take me home, Dear,” you said. “Drive me home.” Your hand curled into a hot, greasy fist. “Edward isn’t well.” OneWhiteWhisker has a new favorite as of 02:53 on Jul 23, 2015 |
|
#
?
Jul 22, 2015 03:26
|
|
|
Heard a good creepy story tonight and figured y'all would appreciate it. I'm currently visiting my best friend and his husband, who live in a teeny-tiny town in rural Louisiana, north of Lake Pontchartrain. BFF's hubby Kevin grew up here. All his family and childhood friends are still around, and it seems like everybody has a UFO story. The best one came from Kevin's late grandfather, and here it is as related by Kevin. Grandpa owned a grocery, feed and bait shop on the highway that runs between this tiny town and another tiny town. Every single night of his life he'd be home for supper at six on the nose, except once when he pulled a no-show. This would have been in the early 70s, so cell phones clearly weren't a thing, and his folks were frantic. Nobody in the neighborhood had seen hide or hair of him after he closed the store, the police weren't helpful, and everyone assumed something terrible had happened -- until he walked into his house at ten, looking completely shellshocked. "I left the store at a quarter to six, same as always," he said. "I was driving home when I saw a really bright light in the middle of the highway. Nobody else was around, and the light made it so I couldn't see anything at all -- it was like a road-construction spotlight pointed right in my eyes. I stopped the car and got out, and the next thing I knew I was back in the car and driving right through the middle of Hattiesburg, Mississippi. This is how long it took to get home." He was never late for supper again, and Kevin says he stuck to that story until the day he died.
|
|
#
?
Jul 23, 2015 08:12
|
|
|
Grandpa was totally at a whorehouse.
|
|
#
?
Jul 23, 2015 22:49
|
|
|
Chicken Butt posted:Grandpa was totally at a whorehouse. Somehow I doubt there was a whorehouse in whatever mile radius would've been necessary to make this idea plausible. I like this thread a lot better when it's stories of presumably actual encounters by real people than when it's horror-fiction and creepypasta. I don't normally bring that up because I assume it'll be met with "  B-B-BUT ALL GHOSTS STORIES IS FICTION GHOSTS ISNT REAL" but I feel like it needs to be said. Can we keep all the fiction stuff in another thread?
I. M. Gei has a new favorite as of 23:05 on Jul 23, 2015 |
|
#
?
Jul 23, 2015 22:57
|
|
|
Traditionally these threads have an unspoken agreement about not questioning the validity of a story. Some are explicitly said to be fiction by the author, some are obviously fiction by the sheer scope of their content, that's fine. But part of the fun has always been the feeling of uncertainty a good ghost story gives you. Also the thread is pretty anemic even with fiction included. I can start posting some other stuff from the goon archives if you'd like.
|
|
#
?
Jul 23, 2015 23:38
|
|
|
Dr. Gitmo Moneyson posted:Somehow I doubt there was a whorehouse in whatever mile radius would've been necessary to make this idea plausible.
|
|
#
?
Jul 23, 2015 23:58
|
|
|
coronatae posted:Also the thread is pretty anemic even with fiction included. I can start posting some other stuff from the goon archives if you'd like. Yes please!
|
|
#
?
Jul 24, 2015 07:01
|
|
|
I will always remember the day I found Jeff the Killer / Smiledog yaoi.
|
|
#
?
Jul 24, 2015 10:41
|
|
|
 do tellAnyways here's one from the vaults, Camp Hell by Onic! Camp Hell is a boyscout camp in Iowa (Not the Real Name) It is located in a forest area near Des Moines. Being a good christian child, I was initiated into the cub scouts at a young age, and then eventually the boy scouts. I eventually made Eagle, but that has nothing to do with this particular story. Our troop had decided that our summer trip that year would be to head to Camp Hell. There we could do our lifeguard training, C.O.P.E. which is basically rock climbing, and other random fun things. I think I was 15 or 16 at the time. We get all packed up and start the long drive down there. 6 hours later, and we reach our destination. We get all our gear out of the vehicles and start to walk down to our designated site. The camp is god drat enormous though. The walk from the parking lot to our site took 45 minutes. Talk about being hard on the arms and legs. We finally get there though, and get to see what our lodgings will be. Our camp site was about the 50 yards around. The tents we would be sleeping in were those world war 2, olive green pitch tents. Throw a couple of pallets in the bottom of them, and you're out of the mud for the most part. I opened up my tent and was greeted with an ungodly amount of spiders. The majority were daddy long legs, and wolf spiders. Back then I still had my sense of smell, and let me tell you. That tent smelled like loving spiders. It took me a good half hour to brush all of them out of it, and get my cot set up. I opened the back of the tent, and look down. It's on the edge of a ravine. There was a good 30 foot sharp drop off right there. Down in the bottom was a small stream and some rocky outcroppings. I walked out of the tent and saw everyone gathered around the tent next to mine. I walk over to see what the fuss is about, and take a look inside. Sitting on the ceiling of this tent is the biggest wolf spider I have ever seen. The drat thing looked like a large tarantula. It was about as big as your hand spread out, and boy was it hairy. Someone jabbed it with a stick, and the thing plopped down with a thud onto the pallet. It then ran towards the back, and leaped out into the ravine. We actually watched it glide down into the woods. So already we have an infestation of the oogly booglies in the camp. What I didn't mention was the noise. God drat cicadas were going off like crazy. It was one of their big years. There was an estimated 25,000 per acre I think they said. It was so bad, that when I later walked over to a small cabin, I saw that the entire side of it was cicada shells. You couldn't see a piece of wood on that thing because of all of them. The huge snails were cool though, they were all over the damp woods. Anyway, after we got all set up, we headed to the main hall for the welcoming to the week of hell. There was some stupid poo poo speeches and other boring stuff that kids don't want to hear. We then dined on the finest baked beans and hot dogs. Later that night we all gathered around this huge fire, in a semi-circle. There was about 1000 of us, so it was a big fire. Behind it was this huge totem pole with a platform at the top. I'd say about 50 feet up. Standing on the platform was some fruit cake in body paint screaming. Then shirtless weirdo's ran around us screaming with torches. I swear, the boy scouts organization is one of the weirdest in the world. After all the batshit insane stuff had died down, we were treated to stories of the camps history. The main guy told us of all the people who had died at this camp, and of the weird creatures that lurked in the woods and lakes. The way he told the stories though was so funny, due to his crackly, whinny voice. I think the stories ended at around midnight, and we were sent back to get some sleep. So, we get back to our campsite, and I'm pretty bushed, so I decide to head to bed. I crack open that tent, and flip a flashlight on, only to see that all the god drat spiders were back! Let me tell you, a week in that place will cure you of all your arachnophobia. I didn't even bother with the spiders, I just got undressed, hopped in my sleeping bag, and conked out. 5 a.m. rolls around and I hear the blaring sound of reveille playing a few feet from my tent. Since when did I join the army!? I got dressed and headed out for my first day of fun and festivities. The first thing on my agenda was C.O.P.E. So, I headed down to the designated area, which was a 2 mile walk through the woods. By the time I get there I'm soaked from all the dew. About 15 of us had signed up for cope this year. The first thing we do is go to climb the 100 foot tower, then repel down the back side. No big deal really, we had all done it before. So, we get our swiss seats tied up, and start going up in one by one...eh, it's nothing really to talk about. Nothing interesting happened on it my first day. So, I'll skip ahead. My first day was pretty normal for the most part. Cope, followed by canoe safety, then some other stuff that I can't remember. That night was once again filled with spiders and 100 degrees plus humidity. We had to get up the next day at the same time. This day though I had to go to the mess hall and prepare the table for breakfast. Queue me trudging through the woods at 5 in the morning. I noticed that the woods were dead quite for the most part, besides the common sound of rabbits or squirrels. The cicadas hadn't come out yet, so it was less annoying. It was still dark out, so I had a flashlight with me to guide my way through the trees. I don't know what made me look up, but when I shined my light up at the tops of the trees I saw something. A large black image was leaping through the tree tops at a fast pace. It went directly over me, then off in the direction I had just came from. My light didn't carry on it for too long, but long enough for me to confirm that I had seen something strange. It didn't make a sound, which was pretty weird. I had already seen some strange stuff in my life at this point, so I wasn't really scared at all. I just kept moving onward towards the mess hall. It took me about 30 minutes to get there, and once again I was soaked up to my knees in dew. Setting up the table only took about 15 minutes, and by 6 everyone had shown up and started eating. After breakfast they sang songs about using the pancakes as toilet paper, and coffee for cuts. Really, boy scouts=weird. After breakfast it was off to another uneventful day of cope. Then onward to canoe safety. Today during my canoe class, we had to go out into the middle of the murky lake, and sink my canoe. Then attempt to un-sink it. The only thing that worried me about that lake was the unusually high amount of large snapping turtles. Those things were mean too. I didn't want one of those taking a finger off or a chunk of flesh. Our instructor demonstrated how to do it properly. He would sink his, then 2 other canoes would pull up and you would work your canoe to the surface, then kind of stack it on the other two so it could drain out properly. It seemed pretty pointless to me. Since if you're by yourself, you're not going to get it out from under water. I waited until my turn, then I rowed out into the middle of the lake. I started rocking my canoe until it flipped and started to go under. The drat thing only sank about 5 feet down, so I was able to stand on it under water. The instructor sent out 2 guys with canoes as soon as mine was sunken. I had a good 10 minute wait though. So, I stood there on my sunken canoe waiting for those slow rear end people to work their way out. I felt the canoe start moving from under my feet, as if a current was pulling on it. I kick my heel over the edge of a support beam in it to hold on. That stopped the canoe dead in it's tracks. Suddenly I felt something wrap around my ankle and pull me down. It pulled hard enough to submerge me completely, even with my life jacket on. I open my eyes up under the water and see these pale rotting hands fly at my face and grab my ears. A screaming face is then thrust into mine. I could hear the screaming perfectly, even though I was underwater. I start frantically trying to get away. I'm kicking and waving my arms as hard as I can. It seemed like an eternity, but the thing let go of me, and I was able to make it to the surface. My life jacket bobs me up above the water line, where I proceed to cough and sputter. The guys in canoes show up just as I bob up to the surface, so I start trying to climb into one of their canoes as fast as I can. They won't let me though. "You have to get yours out before you can come back." God dammit! I told them something underwater had grabbed me, but they told me to stop making poo poo up and get my canoe out. So, I did just that while all the time wondering if something was going to grab me and drag me to my death. I get my canoe out, and floating again, then speed into shore. When I get there, the instructor asked me why I was underwater for so long. I told him of what had just happened, and he said "Oh yah, that happens." That happens!? What the hell kind of place is this. I went down to the showers to get cleaned up, but am greeted with a fat elderly man showering naked...so I waited. This place was giving me a serious case of the heeby jeebies. I eventually got showered up, and walked back to my campsite, where I planned on taking a nap. I layed down for a good hour, but couldn't get to sleep on account of all those drat cicadas going crazy. So, I decided to hang out with my buddies for a bit. They wanted to go explore the woods, so of course I went with. We all found some nice branches, and made them into walking sticks, and we were off. We found a path down the ravine behind our campsite and took it. We then followed the stream for a while. The stream turned into a small river with some fast current going down it. I was checking out the little fish that will swimming around in the nice clear water, while my friends walked off further down the path. I was waiting for a friend to catch up anyway. I glanced over at a huge pile of branches that were hung up on a bend in the river. I see something weird sticking out of them. I walk over that way, and finally see what it is. A nice mangled torso slung up in the branches. Intestines were floating out of the eviscerated stomach. And it wasn't fresh at all. The whole thing was a pale white, and looked like it had been there for a while. I start yelling for them to come look at it. Nobody was coming yet though. "Don't" That 's what I hear. I look at the torso again, and hear "Don't" A head then slowly cranes it's way out of the rushing waters, and stares at me. There is no lower jaw on the head, and the eyes are popped out of it. The lips are huge and purple. It says "Don't" Once again. I take off like a bat out of hell screaming my head off. I ran and ran, until I saw the friend that I was waiting for. He's yelling "what's the matter!" at me while I'm running up to him. I catch my breath and tell him that I had saw the torso caught up in the branches. We bust rear end back to the spot, and take a look at the branches. There's death there alright, but it wasn't what I had saw. It was a freshly killed deer this time. Still had all it's hair and color. He questions me as to why it was such a big deal. I explained to him the whole time, but he would just laugh and tell me to stop trying to scare him. He went on to catch up with the other guys. I just headed back to the camp at a very fast pace. Behind me I could hear the word "Don't" echoing through the ravine. What does it mean? I couldn't figure it out. No one else at the camp would believe me. They said it was either making up stories, or my imagination. gently caress, imagination. Last time I checked, people don't imagine ripped up torso's and talking severed heads. I already wanted to go home. This place was too hosed up for me, and apparently other people had poo poo happen to them here also. I still had 4 more days to look forward to though. That night there was a huge electrical storm. I'm talking big. There was so much lightning that it was brighter than daylight out. I was lucky enough to be in the tent 5 feet from the tall metal flagpole. Lucky me. The wind was howling at about 50 miles per hour. Everybody except a few of us had moved into the wooden shack that stored our fire wood. I was one of the lucky people that got to stay in the tents. The wind was so strong that it was untying the double knots that I had made to keep the tent flaps closed. It wasn't raining at all though thankfully. More and more spiders had decided to get out of the storm. By now my sleeping bag was covered in smooshed spiders from my rolling around at night. I tried to get to sleep but the thunder was so constant and loud that it was just impossible at first. Then the talking started. "Don't!" That thing was yelling at me from the river. Over and over it would yell "Don't" at me. I flung the sleeping bag over my head to stop the noise of the thunder, wind, and talking. It was pointless though, everything got through. I must have eventually fell asleep, because before I knew it, it was daytime again. Today, was the day I had been at first looking forward to, but now I dreaded it. It was the oh so fantastic "Survival Trial". We are given a tarp, a sleeping bag, a small shovel, a bucket, a book of matches, and our knife. Then we are supposed to go deep into the woods and make a campsite for the night. This was not a good thing for me, after all that I had went through. First thing to do was try go find a good spot to set up. I headed over to the huge bridge that went over the ravine, and tried to set up under it. But saw someone else there, and they were getting peed on by people on the bridge. So, that was a no-go. I tried a couple of other places. I was looking for a good, elevated flat spot, that was away from that river or stream or whatever it was. I found a good area that was about a mile into the woods. I to this day don't know how they got away with this stuff back then. Sending kids into the woods unattended, it's so unsafe. But oh well, what can you do. I'm sure they don't allow it anymore these days. The spot I found was on the top of a little hill, with a nice big tree. So, if there was rain, it would all go down, and not pool up around me. I dug a small ditch which resembled a shallow grave. I covered the dirt in it with pine needled and dry leaves. I set my sleeping bag in it. I used the tarp as a makeshift tent. I was proud of my campsite when I was done. It looked pretty drat good. I then went off and gathered a decent amount of firewood. I dug a tiny pit, and lined it with rocks. That was where I would have my fire. I found a nice flat rock that I could use for cooking and set it next to the fire. Then, I went down to the lake and pulled up the lines I had set earlier. The lines had 6 baited hooks on them, and I had thrown them into the water along the shore. Most of the hooks were full with mediocre sized rock bass, but I kept them. Part of the survival course was catching and eating your own food. Night rolled around and I had eaten my fish that were cooked on the flat rock in the fire. I sat there alone, smoking about a half a pack of ciggs that I couldn't touch until I was alone. At least that was one good thing about this survival crap. It was a calm night. The storm the night before had blown all the bad stuff away apparently. There was only the sound of crickets and the crackling fire. I sat there, enjoying my fire and nicotine for quite a while. Then I noticed that all the crickets had stopped chirping. Well, isn't that the best sound ever. When they do that, it means something is about to die. I had this happen later on in life, but that's part of another story. I looked around into the dark woods, but my small fire didn't light up much. I heard the crunching of dead leaves and sticks off in the direction behind me. I figured someone must be out checking on us survivalists. I called out "hello?" and waited for an answer, but got none. The crunching kept going on off into the distance, away from me, and soon faded into nothing. I thought it was someone just being a prick. I rolled my bag out into my shallow grave...man that sounds bad doesn't it. I hopped into the bag, and snuggled in. It was actually quite comfortable. I was pretty surprised with how well things were turning out. It didn't take me long to fall asleep. I woke up some time later. My eyes opened and I stared into the face of something. I was still very groggy so I just looked until my eyes adjusted. It was some sort of beast. It was just inches from me. The thing had stuck it's head under my tarp and was eyeballing me...kinda. It had no eyes. Imagine a deformed wolf, with no eyes, or eye sockets. It was huge, and white. It inched closer to my face till it was almost touching. I'm trying my hardest not to move or scream my head off. It starts to smell me. It's hot stagnant nose breath wafts over my face. The smell is terrible. It smelled like the essence of death. It sniffed for a few seconds then started to growl slightly. The growling got louder, and louder, until it whipped it's massive head around and looked over it's shoulder. I move my eyes over and see that it's looking at something. What it's looking at is...gently caress I don't know. It was like a tall skinny human being that was hunched over. By tall I mean about 9 feet tall. It was naked, and had no mouth or arms. It was looking right at me. The growling turned into snarling. I could see the wolf things mouth open. Inside were several sets of teeth, like a shark would have. The wolf type thing turn around roared at this humanoid thing off in the distance. The tall thing started backing up slowly, while the wolf thing was walking at it slowly. I'm laying here with the biggest amount of fear and what the gently caress rolling through my mind. In an instant the wolf thing leaps into the air and slams into the tall thing. The tall thing starts writhing around on the ground. I could hear muffled screams coming from it's non-existent mouth. The wolf was snapping and bitting at it. I could hear flesh being ripped from bones, followed by the crunching of bones. I loving black out at this point. I couldn't take that much poo poo in one sitting. I wake up and look at my wrist watch. It is 3 o'clock in the afternoon. gently caress! I had been sleeping for a very long time. I get up and remember what I had seen. Was it all a dream? Apparently not. There is black tar like stuff splattered all around my camp. I could only assume it was blood from those things. There was huge patches of dirt kicked up, and a tree was snapped in half not more than 10 feet from where I was sleeping. It was a tree about the size of a leg. I decided the poo poo must have actually happened, so I got my poo poo packed up and ran back to the main camp. When I got back I was greeted with a lot of "where the hell were you?". I explained to them that I had overslept. I found some of the other guys that had done the survival course, and had a word with them. I asked them if they had anything strange happen to them during their stay in the woods. Only one person said that he had seen something lurking around in the dark. He said it was shaped like a dog, only a lot bigger. The other people seemed uneasy, so I don't know if they were telling the truth about noticing nothing, or if they were hiding something. At 5 p.m. I headed over to my cope class for the biggest fun we were going to have. That would be the 2nd longest zip line in the world. Or it was at the time, I'm sure there are some bigger ones by now. To get to the zip line, you have to climb up this wire ladder onto the top of a light pole. Then grab onto one wire, and walk across another wire to the other side, which is another light pole. It's about a 20 yard wire walk. At that point you get yourself hooked up and take off. I don't even remember how long it is, but it's a long drat way to the other end. You fly over the ravine and a ton of forest. At the other end are your fellow boy scouts ready to stop you. Theres a bunch of bed mattresses nailed to trees too. Well, thats comforting. I had to wait an hour before it was my turn because someone chickened out, and had to be forcibly removed from the pole. It took me 15 minutes to walk to the line start from the end, so that kinda shows how long a distance it is. I get up the ladder, and make my way across the wire. I get hooked up to the line, and kick off the platform. The zip line takes off like a bolt of lightning. I'm soaring over the land, and it is just kick rear end. I look down as I pass over the ravine and see a mass of thousands of bodies writhing around. They are reaching up at me and screaming. I throw up all over myself. I get to the other end, and am shaking terribly bad as they catch my line and help me off. They pass it off as me being scared, and the rush getting to me. It wasn't though. I had enough of this place, it was too much now. I waited around at the end for the instructors girlfriend to come down the line. We got radioed that she had started, but she never showed up. What the hell happened to her? Turns out that she got above the ravine, and her hair flew up into the pulley and got caught. It half way scalped her. That was a very bad thing. She hadn't tired her hair back and put it under her helmet like she was told to. a rescue guy had to climb out to the middle where she was stranded, and cut her hair so she could get moving to the end. She was passed out from what I would assume to be pain and blood loss. It was all bad, and I'll never forget it. She lived fortunately. Later that day, the other instructor fell off the tower, and his line didn't catch. He shattered both his legs. He was about 40 feet off the ground at the time, trying to show off. poo poo was going sour awful fast. These 2 things happening in one day got cope canceled for the rest of the trip. I skipped the rest of my courses that day, and just hung around the mess hall. I wanted to be near some kind of civilization, and that was the closest I could get at the time. Night rolled around, and I was back in the tent with my buddies, the spiders. I didn't mind them by now. They didn't bite me or anything so it was no big deal. There was something wrong with me the whole trip though, I couldn't take a dump no matter how hard I tried. It wasn't constipation, I just didn't have to go. It was weird. I'm just letting you guys know I was having trouble pooping. I lay there in bed, wondering what was going to gently caress with me tonight. I soon dozed off and was met with nightmares of epic proportions. I don't remember what they were about, but I know I had them. I woke up from them in a cold sweat. And it was freezing cold in that tent. It was about 90 degrees when I fell asleep, now I could see my breath. I was shivering in my sleeping bag, wondering how it had got so drat cold. I go to flip on my electric lantern, but it wont turn on. Batteries must be dead. I hear the tent flap behind me head start to open. I turn my head and look over. Through the flap comes the head of the tall skinny thing. It cranes it's foot long neck and stares right at me. There is black tar stuff oozing from cuts that riddle it's face. It looks at me for a few seconds then starts talking. It says "Come with me. You must come with me." I actually said "No" It's face moves closer to mine, and it keep repeating it's phrase. I'm in absolute terror. The thing suddenly starts howling in pain. Like a man would. It's then jerked back out the tent. I say jerked because it looked like something pulled it out. I hear thrashing going down into the ravine. Followed by a roaring noise and now screaming. I curl up into a ball in my sleeping bag and close my eyes shut as tight as I can get them. I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to the sound of the trumpet at 5 a.m. Today was the day we leave. I was so loving happy to leave that godforsaken place. I had all my poo poo packed up by 7 a.m. and I was waiting out by the van. I said gently caress the ending gathering and waiting in the parking lot. Everyone got back an hour or so later, and we took off. As soon as we left the parking lot I had to take a dump. My bowels knew what was going on. That's it. There is your story guys. I hope you enjoyed it. Now I have to get to bed, I have work way too early tomorrow.
|
|
#
?
Jul 24, 2015 19:06
|
|
|
coronatae posted:Traditionally these threads have an unspoken agreement about not questioning the validity of a story. Some are explicitly said to be fiction by the author, some are obviously fiction by the sheer scope of their content, that's fine. But part of the fun has always been the feeling of uncertainty a good ghost story gives you. Agreed. It's all in how the story teller perceived their experience. Not the reality. Reality is dull. About 20 years ago, my brother and I went to visit a property that my aunt and uncle were flipping. We toured the house and went into a room in the back with cloth covered windows and a painted blue floor (the only painted floor in the house). I immediately panicked and wanted to leave the room. I was absolutely terrified of nothing at all and wanted to leave the house. We then went into a wood Quonset hut adjacent that had been fully finished many years ago. I immediately felt dread when I crossed the threshold. There was a curtain separating the front room from the kitchen. Everything in my mind told me that there was a 1950's family in the kitchen sitting down to dinner. Beyond that curtain was nothing of course, but I'll never forget the feeling of terror. Many years later, I compared my experience with my brother and it turns out that he had the exact same feelings. I also read an article in a magazine years ago (can't find a reference now) that said that blue milk paint was often used by murderers to cover blood stains on bare wood. The story has no meaning or point. I don't believe in spirits/ghosts but gently caress that place.
|
|
#
?
Jul 25, 2015 01:49
|
|
|
coronatae posted:
I enjoyed this one quite a bit. Thanks for sharing it/
|
|
#
?
Jul 25, 2015 03:27
|
|
|
mostlygray posted:The story has no meaning or point. I don't believe in spirits/ghosts but gently caress that place. I love little unsettling stories like this. Here's one of mine (true, if it matters, by the way): My mom was a teacher in a tiny alternative school, in a building that was once a grocery store but was kind of patchworked into a bunch of classrooms--essentially a handful of "boxes" with open tops built within the larger "box" of the building. Mom being a teacher, I'd spend lots of late nights there with her in my childhood. One of the classrooms had a closed top that had been made into a low-ceilinged reading loft for students with lots of pillows and beanbags; that's where I spent most of my time during these late nights. Because of how the loft was built, from there you could see pretty much into every room and hallway in that whole side of the school. The school, when empty, had a very, very unsettling vibe--maybe the weird construction of it, maybe the contrast between a daytime school packed full of loud kids and its emptiness during the evening, but nights there the building still felt--and sounded--like the rooms were full of people working quietly even when it was just the two of us. For example, I'd be in the loft, and hear someone puttering around in the math room (rustling papers, clattering pens) and assume it was my mom; I'd crawl over to the side of the loft overlooking it to chat with her but the room was empty. No worries--I could hear someone was walking down the hall to the library, that must be her. I crawled over to the other side, but found I was alone. As it turned out, Mom was in the office, on the other side of the building. This happened regularly enough that after some time I would either fearfully shadow my mom, following her from room to room, or set up camp in the most inaccessible corner of the loft, building a fort out of pillows and trying to distract myself with a pile of books. Once, during the school day, I was in the bathroom. I was in one of the stalls when I heard a distinct, ragged breathing sound. Gasping, malevolent, coughing, wheezing. I assumed one of the students was playing a joke, I crouched down and looked under the stall door but saw no feet. The breathing was loud enough that it was easy to pinpoint where it was coming from--just to the left of the sinks. I called out "ha, ha. Very funny. I'm scared!". There was a brief pause in response to my false bravado, then the breathing picked up again. I threw open the door, but as soon as I saw all the open stall doors and the totally empty bathroom I ran out to the sunny yard as fast as I possibly could. I never went in that room again. The school has been closed for years now--the building was demolished and made into condos. I was never able to explicitly corroborate my experiences with anyone and nowadays consider myself 95% skeptical about these sorts of things, but thinking back on it now, my brother straight-up refused to accompany my mom and I on our nights in the school for reasons he never explained; and none of the other teachers (dedicated though they were) would stay in the building after hours to do their work unless it couldn't be avoided.
|
|
#
?
Jul 25, 2015 04:53
|
|
|
I've posted this before in previous spooky story threads, but it's worth repeating since it still baffles me. I was probably 13 or 14, just old enough to stay home by myself without my folks having the national guard on speed dial. My room is upstairs on the 2nd story, the land line has always been on the first floor of my mom's house so if I heard it ringing as a kid I would run down to answer it usually. My dad was living in an apartment across town at this point also, but these details aren't super important. Around 1:00am or so I heard the phone ring but I didn't hurry because nobody I knew would be calling at that hour. I reached the top of the stairs and I hear the answering machine pick up, and all I hear is random mumbling at first. Then the mumbling eventually turns into two distinct voices, much like two old women with questionable grasps on reality. One of them asks about someone named Bob Murphy, which I thought was sort of funny at first, but it kept going on for longer than pretty much anyone could tolerate. The louder woman kept repeating things like "One two, one two, what're you gonna do when Bob Murphy comes for you?" with minor variations. The other voice would occasionally chime in with nonsensical screams and the odd obscenity or two such as "YOU gently caress!" I wasn't really paying such great attention to every detail since I was fairly terrified after a few minutes. I forget how it finally ended, but I called my dad afterward and begged him to come over just in case something weird happened. I've never gotten a call like that since on any number, and nobody I know has either, it was crazy. I'm interested if anyone in the thread knows about any similar calls or whatnot. I sort of wish it would happen again cause I would be totally fascinated by it now.
|
|
#
?
Jul 25, 2015 21:25
|
|
|
ServoMST3K posted:I'm interested if anyone in the thread knows about any similar calls or whatnot. I sort of wish it would happen again cause I would be totally fascinated by it now. Had something similar happen in Jr. high. Only it was the middle of the afternoon. We didn't have caller ID at the time so I just picked up and heard some garbled words, static, then a couple of old lady type voices talking. Couldn't make out a word of it. They then yelled something I couldn't understand and started laughing/giggling. Also sounded like they talking through something or maybe in another room away from the phone. I did try *69 but no one picked up then got that "the number you are trying to reach doesn't work anymore" tone after a couple rings. It was wierd so I reported it to my parents. After checking the phone bill (or maybe the phone company, don't recall) we got the number and found it belonged to two older sisters in the neighborhood who were a little "off." (Actually, thinking about it someone else on my street had a similar thing happen and that's how we thought to check.) Anyway a family friend worked at the pharmacy where they filled thier prescriptions and just said yeah, they're kinda mental but harmless and generally lived in their own little world. TLDR; Dementia sucks and can also lead to button mashing. Also this just showed up in recommended videos on youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DzxlDLa2PQY 
|
|
#
?
Jul 25, 2015 22:12
|
|
|
Isn't that peculiar they managed to call two people in the same neighborhood? Unless they were going through the local phone book. I guess I'm somewhat relieved Bob Murphy probably isn't going to do terrible things to me.
|
|
#
?
Jul 25, 2015 22:36
|
|
|
Phone calls also used to get crossed every so often. You'd get a phone call and answer it only to discover it's an ongoing conversation between two people who can't hear you.
|
|
#
?
Jul 25, 2015 22:44
|
|
|
ServoMST3K posted:Isn't that peculiar they managed to call two people in the same neighborhood? Unless they were going through the local phone book. I guess I'm somewhat relieved Bob Murphy probably isn't going to do terrible things to me. I had just assumed they were going by familiar street names or something similar. People have certainly done weirder. It never happened again and never heard any more about it. re bob murphy: Never trust the Irish OP
|
|
#
?
Jul 25, 2015 22:57
|
|
|
Here's some spooky phone poo poo from Khazar-khum! The Telephone Man and Ghostly Phone Sex. Telephone Man If I were to list every thing that went on in the house it would fill this forum and a couple others, too. My Dad owned the place for 25 years. I lived in the house & in another house on the same land all that time. So I have quite a trove of stories to tell. If you ever watch the Ghost Hunters on TV, you know that they want to see some kind of evidence before calling a place haunted. There's one little problem with that: ghosts are like fish. You're in the boat, you've got the lines out, you know that there's fish in the lake; but if they're not in the mood to bite, forget it. With ghosts, you can place all the high-tech gear you want in the place, but if they won't or can't appear, there's nothing you can do. Anyway, just about everybody's favorite story involved the phone man When we moved in, the place still had party lines. My Mom wouldn't settle for that, so we had the phone company come out and place a single line. Everything was OK outside: they ran the lines to the house and outbuilding, a long, low construct that had housed the man while he built the house. We later converted it back into an apartment for me when I got married. He did the downstairs, and then went up. To get into the very large attic, you had to open a closet door and then climb up into the opening. There were shelves in there, which could be used as a ladder if needs be. The phone man was able to hoist himself up in with no problem. My Mom left him alone and went back downstairs. A short while later, he came down, got some tools or somesuch, and went back upstairs. And disappeared. We never saw him come down. The phone company had to send someone to get the truck. They never spoke to us, and we never signed off on the work order. But we had phones, so it was OK. And that was it. You'd think it was a joke, except for two things. One, he left his flashlight in the closet. We used it for years, until it finally got lost. And two, when people came to install AC & add insulation, they found a hard hat in the attic. So what did happen to the phone man? I don't know. Ghostly Phone Sex In my Dad's house, we had many many things happen. There was a building behind the house that the owner had lived in while building the main house. It had a bathroom, the making of a rudimentary kitchen, and a phone. The line was separate from the main house. We used the place as a garage/storage/whatever for years. Then when I got married, we decided to convert most of it back into a living space. We laid carpet, tile, put in a shower, stove, etc. My folks had turned the phone off to prevent anyone from using it & running up a bill. Now it was time to turn it back on. They had to replace some lines and naturally that meant climbing the poles. We were inside when he fell off the pole. Fortunately the neighbor was a fireman. He kept the phone man quiet until the ambulance came. Someone went up in a cherry-picker to finish the job because they couldn't just leave things as they were. According to the new man, the guy's harness wasn't loose or anything--he just fell out of it. No one could figure it out. And then the phone bill came. $850. From the time the guy climbed the pole to the time the second guy finished the job was roughly 2 hours. My Dad called the number that the bill said had been dialled something like 3000 times. It was a long-distance pay phone-sex line. So we went to the phone company to complain. The lady at the desk had to get her supervisor because they'd never seen anything like it. They calculated that the actual number of calls that could be placed was something like 80. But even that didn't make sense, as the calls were made before the phone had been connected. They sent someone out to check the lines, I guess to see of someone was tapping them. But no. Who or what made the calls? (side note: there are two versions of The Telephone Man but they are the same story so I picked the one I thought was better written)
|
|
#
?
Jul 28, 2015 18:52
|
|
|
I normally dismiss unexplainable things because people here in Mexico are very superstitious about mysterious things that can be explained logically, however... I live in the suburbs of Mexico City. As you may be aware, there were a lot of cultures gathered in this area of Mexico, the most important being the Aztecs, who had ceremonial wars to take prisoners and offer sacrifices for the war god, Hutzillopochtli. In the suburbs, there is a lot of undeveloped land and also small ceremonial places forgotten by the government because there is no budget and no one really cares for not-profitable things. Our current house was built 10 years ago in a small hill located about 2 hours away from the city, in a small town that has always been a commuting/trade zone, even in prehispanic times. The old tribes used to use canoes through the river, to trade with other towns and return to their places. The tribes nearby, however, had certain strategical stops to offer sacrifices after the yearly wars ('floral wars', made just to take prisoners). If you have read about Aztec human sacrifices, you'll probably know how gruesome they were, with people getting skined alive and so on. On top of the small hill where I live there is a small ceremonial center, consisting of just three structures, the one where they made sacrifices, which is round and elevated, a small building with corridors, and a micro pyramid that has been covered by the plants and mud. Neighbors and the local neighborhood watch always say that is not good to go alone at night because they can feel a certain feel of unease and something following them, but this is Mexico, so I don't really paid them much attention. However... on the first year of living here, one night I was sleeping as usual, and then, out of nowhere, I heard the loud scream of a woman from the hallway, like a shriek, like the sound a wild animal makes when it's startled or hurt. It lasted about 8 seconds and I didn't believe it was real, as it ended suddenly, not with an echo, like it usually would, but it was suddenly over, like someone putting 'it' out of its misery. I attributed it to sleep paralysis, so I didn't thought much of it... until my mother asked me the next morning if I have heard it too. Some time later, my sister told me that once, she was talking to my mother while doing chores through the house. They were going up and down doing different things and then she noticed my mother's room was locked. She wanted to clean it so she knocked and asked if she could come in, to which a low-pitched voice muttered loudly something like 'uh huh'. My sister became scared and rushed downstairs, only to find my mother in the garden, oblivious to the whole thing. One time, I went to visit my father on the late afternoon, and as I drove through my street, I saw a woman I had never seen just standing in front of the neighbors fence. She was wearing a grayish/brownish attire, had long dark hair, looked dirty and was just staring at me, motionless. As I went further I looked back at the road, and then looked back, like in 2 seconds, and she was gone. There was nowhere she could had ran, as our street is pretty empty, there are dogs and open road, so where did she go? I was very confused that day. There had been other incidents, like cats becoming randomly startled by something, dogs howling at night and not-so-spooky things happening, so my mother decided to call a priest to bless the house, fortunetellers (witches I guess?) to find out what was happening and we all went through some cleansing ritual with herbs. The fortunetellers have told us that 1) It's not only 1 thing, but different, as they seem to be in transit to somewhere 2) There was probably one that decided to stay, but was a child, a prankster and 3) They are harmless. Since then we haven't heard anything else here, although there are other stories from neighbors. Now we also light up a candle every week, just in case and refer to incidents like these as caused to Mr. Ghost 
Zombie Chow has a new favorite as of 08:25 on Jul 29, 2015 |
|
#
?
Jul 29, 2015 08:22
|
|
|
I really miss the days when its was encounters and not essays So I work in a really old building, it was a private home back in the day but its a business now. Anyway, after everyone leaves for the night the office phones start making the noise from the movie frequency. It doesn't really matter where you put your cellphone the conference call speaker always picks up static from somewhere. One night I had to stop by the office late and I heard someone talking on the side walk behind me, well it really sounded like someone whispered some garbage in my ear. I don't know why I checked the sidewalk but I did and absolutely no one was around.
|
|
#
?
Jul 29, 2015 22:03
|
|
|
Zombie Chow posted:The tribes nearby, however, had certain strategical stops to offer sacrifices after the yearly wars ('floral wars', made just to take prisoners). If you have read about Aztec human sacrifices, you'll probably know how gruesome they were, with people getting skined alive and so on. On top of the small hill where I live there is a small ceremonial center, consisting of just three structures, the one where they made sacrifices, which is round and elevated, a small building with corridors, and a micro pyramid that has been covered by the plants and mud. Neighbors and the local neighborhood watch always say that is not good to go alone at night because they can feel a certain feel of unease and something following them, but this is Mexico, so I don't really paid them much attention. If it's bad luck to live on top of an old Indian burying ground, that's got to be SO much worse.
|
|
#
?
Jul 30, 2015 14:52
|
|
|
Rabbit Hill posted:If it's bad luck to live on top of an old Indian burying ground, that's got to be SO much worse. It's really interesting, specially in other towns with other cultures. There is not much shock or morbidity towards the whole 'OMG Ghosts!' in other states, specially in the South. In there people are just 'ehh ghosts, poor things, let's offer them a mass' and that's it.
|
|
#
?
Jul 31, 2015 07:41
|
|
|
I remember this story where a goon, his parents, and his younger brother were en route to a summer home or something, and the parents were teasing the younger kid about some character named Oodie Caloodie or something like that. They get to the summer home, wake up the next day with bruises all over, and the little kid innocently describes how Oodie Caloodie did things. Anyone remember it?
|
|
#
?
Aug 1, 2015 03:21
|
|
|
So, here's some  for you all. First of all, I'm willing to believe that maybe this was all just some viral ad campaign for the android app this woman was using. Who knows? What I do know is that this is creepy.Original link: https://www.reddit.com/r/Ghosts/comments/1u894f/experience_using_sleep_as_android_app/ I'd quote, but there are too many links in the post. The long and the short of it is this woman uses an app to listen to herself sleep, to possibly improve it (maybe to prove sleep apnea, or something like that). She had been using it for months when one day, she listened back to a recording, and there was a part that had her voice, amidst a series of unexplained clicking, ask 'What are you doing?' (she doesn't remember being awake that night), and another voice that not hers or her 3 year old's, say 'Nothing'. A few seconds later, it almost sounds like someone says 'it's them'. Apparently, this woman only lives with her 3 year old, and no one else. You know... assuming this is true, I would find this less creepy if it was actually some sort of ghost or spirit than if it was a very weird home invasion. People are far more terrifying than the paranormal.
|
|
#
?
Aug 8, 2015 02:05
|
|
|
Not my story, but a fun little read nonetheless: http://thoughtcatalog.com/seamus-coffey/2015/08/theres-a-town-in-kentucky-that-you-wont-ever-be-able-to-find-on-a-map-and-for-good-reason/
|
|
#
?
Aug 10, 2015 17:29
|
|
|
coronatae posted:Here's some spooky phone poo poo from Khazar-khum! The Telephone Man and Ghostly Phone Sex. We recently ran into someone we hadn't seen in at least 20 years. And the very first thing I got asked, after all the banal pleasantries were done? "Did they ever find the Telephone Man?" No. We never did.
|
|
#
?
Aug 14, 2015 08:03
|
|
|
Does anyone have that ghost story from I think the last thread about that creepy rear end underground theater? Some guy works there and its in like a cave area but weird poo poo happens? Absolutely my favorite story to come from these threads. I wish I had more to contribute, but I've only had one encounter with the weird and I was only like 10.
|
|
#
?
Aug 15, 2015 01:19
|
|
|
VaultAggie posted:Does anyone have that ghost story from I think the last thread about that creepy rear end underground theater? Some guy works there and its in like a cave area but weird poo poo happens? Absolutely my favorite story to come from these threads. I wish I had more to contribute, but I've only had one encounter with the weird and I was only like 10. If you have archives, is it this one on the second page of the last thread? Need to get around to finishing it. The next page has the next post. Not sure if there are more.
|
|
#
?
Aug 15, 2015 01:28
|
|
|
andipossess posted:If you have archives, is it this one on the second page of the last thread? Need to get around to finishing it. The next page has the next post. Not sure if there are more. Onic posted:I live on a farm outside of a city that currently has a population of around 1700. It's a small town that was built along the railroad back in the late 1800s. Most of the original buildings are still standing along Main Street. Some of them are pretty cool, and over the years I have explored most of them. My favorite was a large building that was a flower store and phones/service. The flower store took up the entire first floor, while the phones and service used the entire basement. At the time I was around 10 years old, and my father was working with the phone guy over the winter. edit: if you don't have archives I can post the other story too
|
|
#
?
Aug 15, 2015 01:45
|
|
|
That's it, thanks! Such a drat good story.
|
|
#
?
Aug 15, 2015 02:28
|
|
|
Well, that was creepy as poo poo
|
|
#
?
Aug 15, 2015 03:41
|
|
|
There's also a really great multipart story that I think is in this thread somewhere involving a guy who interned at some sort of dinner theatre mansion themepark where they were going to open a restaurant in the coalmine nearby. poo poo was awesome.
|
|
#
?
Aug 15, 2015 05:30
|
|
|
Quidnose posted:There's also a really great multipart story that I think is in this thread somewhere involving a guy who interned at some sort of dinner theatre mansion themepark where they were going to open a restaurant in the coalmine nearby. poo poo was awesome.
|
|
#
?
Aug 15, 2015 06:10
|
|
|
Well I just spent the last 72 hours reading some of the old Ghost Story threads, sometimes in the dark of night, sometimes with my TV on Cartoon Network in the early morning hours so my room wouldn't be completely dark as I read them, pulling two all-nighters doing so (tonight included), aaand I'm pretty sure I had much more important and productive things I could've been doing with that time instead. Sooo...... thanks? I've actually got some stories of my own to contribute one of these days. In the meantime, I have Archives, if anybody wants me to dig up a particular story for them. I love this sort of poo poo.
|
|
#
?
Aug 15, 2015 13:41
|
|
|
Hazo posted:That's the "Rambledown Theatre" one by cardinalpuck that was linked by andipossess a few posts above. I'm dumb Great story though!
|
|
#
?
Aug 15, 2015 21:53
|
|
|
|
| # ? May 23, 2024 13:40 |
|
|
Is Tahrajj still around? I had some theories on the Secret Room girl that I really want to run by him. I also want to ask what town near Waco his story happened at.
|
|
#
?
Aug 17, 2015 07:31
|
|