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2015 thread here Wait, what was that? What was that out of the corner of my eye? There's nothing there, huh. Must be my imagination. Spooky poo poo happens in this world, nothing that can be really explained. Knock knock, something's in the attic! Ding dong, your doorbell is going off for no reason! Holy poo poo, why is that shadow moving on its own? God drat, it's getting chilly in here. Some goons have stories to tell about odd things that happened to them. This is the place to tell them. Got something that happened to you? Found an awesome creepypasta you want to share? Write some original ghosty tales? So go ahead and post away! And now the small print. There is no need to mention if it's fiction for sure or not. Just don't be an rear end. Read the story, try not to judge. Even if you believe it or don't. No "oh man this poo poo didn't happen, you're full of poo poo." Just shut up about it. Leave it for D&D or something if you wanna debate the reality of the paranormal. And no "I had this really scary dream, lemme tell you" bullshit either. Ooga booga! Useful links: -The 2012 Ghost Story Thread, the dead ancestor of this one you're reading right now! -Click here for Clickhere's story archive at Ghost Story or here for his favorites. -Creepypasta.com, aka "Let's spook some poo poo up" -Drimble Wedge was kind enough to linkdump some of the best stories around. -not hot but spicy: HumperMonkey's compilations of great-stories. This is required reading, man. A real gobloon would have this PDF'd on their hard drive. -Here's an old thread by a permabanned goon: Bizarre, unsolved mysteries. -Anything Ghost Show. Now have your ghost tales read to you in a soothing podcast! And now, for prime examples of stories. a ghost posted:The Wireman a ghost posted:The Rake If someone can compile the direct links to all of Onic's fantastic corn crib adventures before me, pm or post 'em and I'll stick them here. Or any classics, for that matter. AKA "byezimyannij" or some variant of that. Missing Name has a new favorite as of 20:24 on Jan 29, 2015 |
# ? Feb 5, 2014 02:33 |
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# ? May 4, 2024 14:53 |
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Bookmarked and hopefully in the near future I'll have a few little bits up from my experiences at working in a supposedly haunted, nearly abandoned mall. So spooky.
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 02:57 |
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nice. you are a super guy. glad you linked not hot but spicy. i don't really read the humper monkey/50 foot ant things (short of the original one, that one's good.) but the misc./best-of section there is brilliant and super creepy. my favourite from last thread was "they don't talk about it. no one does". http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3472214&userid=86971 it ended in a cliffhanger. i pm'd the guy who posted it a few months ago and asked if he'd finish it ever. he said he'd been really busy with school/coaching (i think?) but he would finish it one day. here's hoping! edit: a couple from the nhbs compilation that i really like. yeah, they're all on the site already, but this is easier than skimming through the huge log! this first one is one of my absolute favourite scary story ever. a++++++ highly recommended!!!!! canis latran posted:Wife Doppleganger unknown author posted:
Causality Jane posted:It's not the darkness in my room that frightens me. The unidentified sound floating up from somewhere deep in my house doesn't set my poor heart panicking. I'm not terrified as I try not to notice my barely open closet door. It's the potential that gets me. It's what could be there. The more you think about it, the more likely every possibility becomes as the shadows thicken and every stray noise or movement forces you deeper into your fear. The scariest part, to me at least, is that you'll never know what is or isn't there until you go have a look for yourself. Unless it comes looking for you, of course. The rumors about my good friend Liz's house took their dear sweet time reaching me. They were just whispers of things, ominous hints, and I brushed them aside fairly easily. Liz and I were close, so close that people even mistook us for sisters, and were there any dark secrets about her house, I would have known. Like me, she was a storyteller, and storytellers just don't hide that kind of thing. Jib-Bib-Jo posted:Rotting Meat cowboythreespeech has a new favorite as of 03:11 on Feb 5, 2014 |
# ? Feb 5, 2014 02:59 |
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awww, my first q!=e
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 03:11 |
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Yo i'm here to give my support to this thread so nobody be a dick suck: just post real good ghost stories!!! Last night I woke up yelling at a ghost in my dreams asking if it was evil or not and I woke up a friend we have visiting. Fortunately in reality nothing paranormal happens to me cause niggas be scared of me not vice versa like in dreams. That said please post your real ghost stories and thanks for your understanding
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 03:23 |
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last year I saw the words 'you look like you seen a ghost' tagged on the side of a train and later that day a woman remarked that I looked 'ghostly ill' (not a common phrase where this happened). gave me the creeps and I came down with something.
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 03:28 |
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My favorite tv show is ghost adventures. couple brohemians walk into a dark empty room and start yelling "come at me bro!"
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 03:56 |
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Missing Name posted:If someone can compile the direct links to all of Onic's fantastic corn crib adventures before me, pm or post 'em and I'll stick them here. Or any classics, for that matter. In the Spring 2011 thread a kind poster shared a collection of links (originally compiled by Narmi) from all the ghost story threads dating back to 2004. I've found that infinitely valuable so I'll retype it here and update it a bit. Onic's stuff was from 2007 I think. Goldmined: 2005 Tales of a Ghost Hunter 2003 Ghost stories! Scary Stories & hosed-up Dreams Combo-Thread 2002 Ghost Story Time Again! You want a ghost story, I'll give you a ghost story.[LONG] Archived: 2014 The 2014 Ghost Story Thread [This thread, for posterity] 2012 2012 Ghost Story Thread 2011 Spring/Summer Ghost Story Thread 2010 Winter Ghost Story Thread Summer Ghost Story/Paranormal Thread! 2009 Ghost Story Thread - Spring Edition! Summer Ghost Story Thread! Winter Ghost Story/Weird Thread 2008 Creepiest, Inexplicable Things That Have Happened in You Life Ghost Story Thread - Fall Edition Ghost Story Thread - Summer Edition Ghost caught on tape, sets off motion detector Inaugural Rolling Paranormal/Cryptozoological Catch-All Thread Ghost Story Thread - Winter Edition 2007 Ghost Story Thread - Fall 2007 Catchall Urban Legend/Weird History/Ghost Story/Legend Tripping Thread Spring ghost story thread of 07 Summer 07 Ghost Story Thread Think ghosts are scary? You haven't heard of skin-walkers then. [Super pro-click right here] Isn't it about time for another ghost thread? 2006 Share your Ghost Stories Share your ghost stories - The Holiday Special Edition Summer '06 Ghost Story Thread Springtime Ghost Story thread - Fresh Weather, Fresh Stories Time for another ghost story thread... I may have walked in on a ghost playing the piano... 2005 The Fall/Winter '05 Ghost Story Thread The Christmas Ghost Story Thread 2005 Ooh, do have I a NEW Ghost story for you... +Bonus Material... 2004 The Ghost Story Thread of Summer '04 The Ghost Story Thread of Fall '04 Not Another Ghost Story Thread Finally, if you don't have archives, some goon has a bunch of old threads stored at http://www.thuneral.com/eerie/. Another compilation can be found at http://nothotbutspicy.com/para/compilation/#_Toc285674393. Anyway, I've always liked the Cowman story because stories from the woods are the best. quote:“The Cowman of Copalis Beach!” Hazo has a new favorite as of 05:52 on Jul 4, 2014 |
# ? Feb 5, 2014 04:30 |
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cowboythreespeech posted:
It's posted.
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 04:53 |
i want to poo poo into my own prolapsed and homosexual asspussy
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 04:54 |
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DARPA Dad posted:i want to poo poo into my own prolapsed and homosexual asspussy sounds super spooky
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 05:42 |
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Here's a link for Hedningen's stories involving his attic.DARPA Dad posted:i want to poo poo into my own prolapsed and homosexual asspussy Make it into a ghost story, now.
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 06:00 |
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Here are Onic's Hazo has a new favorite as of 06:10 on Feb 5, 2014 |
# ? Feb 5, 2014 06:07 |
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that horrible kefka laugh
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 06:08 |
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Spooky stories are always my favorite threads to lurk and read, thank you for your great list of old threads!
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 06:14 |
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the last living thing wept, then promptly shat himself as he heard something knocking on the door
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 06:33 |
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missed that. and after reading it, loved it. as an aside, i read the entire "no one talks about it" thing to my dad and my sister, sitting around the campfire last summer. they loved it. thanks for the story, bud.
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# ? Feb 5, 2014 07:36 |
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Great new thread... I end up sitting around reading these in the dark and spooking myself. Yay!
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# ? Feb 6, 2014 04:00 |
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Is Canis latrans still around? Because his stories still are: Another story from the jungle, this one being the one that still gives me nightmares on occasion. Now, I can not really claim this as happening exactly as I remembered it, not in any honest sense. I remember it as happening like so however, which still has me waking on occasion in a cold sweat. This is back in some weird little island in the Philippines learning jungle survival stuff from the nigridos. My friend Tony and I were getting the hang of some of the finer points of staying alive in a world that wanted you dead and festering with larvae. Tony is a solid guy, the kind of friend your lucky to have. He had my back, I had his, and it didn't matter what stupid poo poo the other decided to get himself into, he wasn't going into it alone. Seriously the guy was loyal to a fault, still is. This is actually how we ended up in the middle of the bush together god knows how many miles from whatever could be considered civilization and light years away from anything remotely safe. Part of the final test of what you learned out there was to go out alone for a coupla days and make your way back to the village. It was a basic practical test, ideally you had a nigrido shadowing you not too far off making sure you didn't get yourself graved by being an idiot. You'd never know these guys were there though, ever, they knew this territory and knew how to work it. The jungle is dense, profoundly thick. I know you've probably heard stories about how you can walk past like...an entire ruined temple in the middle of South America and never even clue in that its there even though your practically on its doorstep. Its true, you step ten feet from your buddy in the wrong direction, blink wrong and bam, your alone. We had both done pretty good as far as the nigridos cared, we picked up things fast and weren't shy about doing things most westerners balk at, eating bugs, getting filthy and reaching into mysterious holes to grab whatever might be lurking in there. I had no problem with this as my dad was kind of a nutjob survivalist in my early youth and had a thing for doing things "the Traditional Way," Tony had no problems doing this stuff because he had balls the size of a C-130, loaded with tanks, and driving those tanks were condors with helmets. Anyways, its time for the practicals, and although we were supposed to solo that noise, Tony and I basically said "no dice we're going in as a pair," to which the nigridos smiled and nodded and agreed that we were smart to demand such a thing. You never go out there alone. I always thought it was kind of a trick question thing anyways, sending your goofy rear end out into the dense solo when all throughout the training they go on and on about how you're a dumb poo poo if you go out there alone. Bonus points for us I guess right? We get bags over our heads and led to a little riverboat. They rumble us out for a few hours and then unceremoniously dump our asses onto the beach. The nigrido tosses us a knife, stares at us for awhile before making this weird little gesture and buggering off on his boat. I couldn't catch the exact gesture, but it was like a gang sign I guess, quick, fingers all tangled up. His boat was poo poo, I swear it was made out of warehouse pallets or something the like. Tony and I both figured the guy probably went up river a bit then bailed on his own craft and fixed to shadow us and keep an eye out. With bravado fed by the others presence we went into the jungle all smiles and ego. We were good, we knew this, we were not afraid and figured this would be fun as hell, and give us some future stories to tell the ladies about and hence get laid. Tony has a knack for direction and the two of us sussed our whereabout after only a few hours. It was daytime, so climbing a tree gave us a pretty decent view. Not a lot to see really, but somehow he figured on a direction we were supposed to go and we headed off. Moving through the jungle can be slow work, in the movies you have to hack your way through poo poo with a machete like Indiana jones or some poo poo. Reality is a bit different. If you know where to step, you can avoid all the work of cutting stuff down. Along fallen logs is pretty good, up roots and the like, but don't ever put your foot alongside something like that, that's snakefood. The nigridos do it at kind of a lazy jog, we were more deliberate but still moving at a pace that was comfortable to us. We chattered constantly, it wasn't to keep predators away, as far as we knew the island had no real big threats like cats or anything, we did it because Tony and I couldn't shut the gently caress up when we were around each other. I'm sure you guys have friends like that. Those two chucklefucks in the back of the classroom in highschool always snickering and loaded with injokes, that was pretty much us, in the jungle...with a single knife and something to prove. The first day was pretty drat uneventful, we didn't eat, and we spent almost the entire time moving. We found water in different places, big cone shaped leaves are good for that, and they typically come with snacks of differing squiggly varieties. We made camp up in the branches of a big goofy rear end looking tree, took light watches and slept like babies. I woke up covered in bugs the size of my fingers and Tony fell off his branch and got stuck in the crook of the tree when he woke up, clumsy bastard. The second day started out like the first, chattering, moving, high spirits. The jungle was getting smellier and bleaker as we went, I think we were close to an estuary or something because there was a briny smell. The soil went from firm with a heavy layer of dead vegetation, to black-brown silt and loose. Tony and I tried making some fire, took us awhile but we did the trick with thread from his shirt and long bendy twig to make a bow with and whatnot. We got some smoldering going, but poo poo out there was so wet it just made a lot of thick black smoke and never really caught. I figured if we kept some tender dry ontop of our heads or something and maybe found some good dead wood we'd have something worth burning. As time went on we got to talking about old times, funny crap we had done, new ideas for pranks with which to torment our hapless buddies with and the desire to come out of this not only successful but as badass as possible. We didn't want to be the Swiss family loving Robinson, we wanted Rambo. I mean seriously, how could anyone want anything BUT that. Imagine that crap, coming out of the bush all grim faced and scarred, with like a dead deer over your shoulder and the skulls of your enemies tied around you in a belt made out of human hair. Not that we had enemies local, but I'm sure we could make some right? That's pretty much us. It was around mid-day Tony and I noticed this weird echo effect with the jungle. It was hard to notice because we never really shut up, but when we talked, there was this weird echo that was soft and sounded far away at first. Until he pointed it out and we started listening more carefully. Everytime we talked, there it was, that echo...it wasn't as far away as it initially sounded either, just deceptively soft. We figured it was maybe soundwaves bouncing off the broadleaf plants in the area or something and coming back at us all curved up. We weren't rocket scientists, but we weren't proper dumb either. Tony and I made a game out of it, we'd start chattering at each other and then he'd hold up his hand, fingers splayed and visually countdown with em, we'd stop mid sentence when he hit zero, and could hear the last few words said bounce around us in a weird jungle whisper. At dusks we had been getting kind of tired of the game and blew it off, but before we went up to rest Tony pulled it on me one last time. Normally echoes just kind of stop or trail off right? This time...I dunno, it just kind of looped, and it looped wrong. The last thing I had been saying to Tony was something along the lines of "I'm a goddamned sexual tyranno-" and cut off. What we heard bouncing around us in that quiet sibilant way was, "I'm a god damned, god damned, god, god, I'm, damned." Tony and I stopped talking and just kind of stared at each other for a bit. We weren't ruling out echoes yet, though over all our time out here doing this training we hadn't ever really heard it before, or mention of it. We were both creeped right the gently caress out, and when one of us is creeped, the other picks up on it and the hackles go up. We found ourselves a solid tree and that night we did not pull light watches, we pulled proper. I'm figuring a little after midnight Tony woke me up with a hand on my shoulder. It's dark at night in the jungle, god damned dark, and noisy. The canopy over head pretty much prevents any good starlight coming through, and the skies are most always fat with gray clouds. The bugs get set to screeching at night and they don't quit for nothing. Underneath our tree something was rooting around in the bushes, even through the bugs we could both hear it. Shuffling, a quiet snort, crunches, snuffling. Sounded like a pig to me and I was set to bark at it and maybe spook it off when Tony's hand on my shoulder tenses. Then I could hear it. Muttering in between the snuffles. A snort, some bushes rustling and a few low scattered words. Bits and pieces of sentences. It took me a second, but gently caress me if it didn't sound like Tony down there pissed off and searching for something he'd lost in the bush. You know when a grumpy rear end drops a contact or something and gets to searching for it muttering under his breath, it's like that. Whatever was down there was loving talking. It wasn't making any sense though, the weirdest loving thing. "So tits," snortsnort "Yeah the green," shuffle, "Named after fucker," rustle. Then a laugh, and I froze when I heard that. It started with my laugh, which is this goofy Mark Hamill as the Joker thing and ended with Tony's troublemaker's drawl. See we had been bullshitting for the past what, day and a half, and spent a good time laughing our asses off at each other. Whatever the gently caress that thing was down there it was like it was trying our voices on for size. We'd both seen Predator, we'd been quoting that poo poo for days out here. I can't even begin to count how many times I'd just stop while one of the instructors was explaining something, stare off into the horizon and mutter, "Theres something out there, up in them trees." Which never failed to make Tony Canis latran FantasyPhantomAdded by FantasyPhantom laugh like a retard. Military types watch a lot of god damned movies, and your typical boots on the ground motherfucker can quote like a champ. No lie, we can even do crazy poo poo like quote a movie line for line with a different cast from yet another movie. You haven't lived til you've seen a bunch of petty officers do a scene from Aliens with Thurgood from Half-Baked as the Sarge. We caught the similarities to our situation pretty god damned fast. It was eerie listening to this thing natter about imbecility down there, it had no comprehension of the noises it was making, but it was loving making them. Tony slid me the knife and secured himself in his spot and I kept the watch until dawn. The thing trundled off a half hour or so before daybreak. I'm no Apache, but I know knives well enough to be comforted by holding one, but even that didn't break the "oh what the gently caress have we gotten ourselves into," gloom that caught us. The next day was a grim loving thing. We weren't chattering, we weren't joking around anymore. Nerves were on edge and both of us had to have looked like someone had gutted our favorite dog. Tony did at least, I'm a goofy looking guy so I probably still looked like a run of the mill dork. Believe me, the urge to quote predator was pretty god damned strong but we just couldn't get past the feeling that we needed to be quiet and careful. Tony managed a half-hearted Arnold gargle when we were headed up a ridge, I think in an attempt to beat the gloom, but even that couldn't do it. He does a good Arnold gargle too, for those that don't know what that is, its hard to describe really its like a weirdly accented "Arghlearg" noise done in Arnies manner that's pretty unmistakable when you hear it. Wow, actually writing that down makes it seem so dumb as hell, still funny as all get out though I think. We didn't hear that weird echo as long as we didn't talk. We were starting to get hungry though, and random bugs wasn't doing much to assuage that. It felt like, I dunno the right description, it felt like we were being bullied if that made any sense. We couldn't talk, we weren't allowed to. That got us both feeling a little pissed off. Tony and I individually aren't anything I'd call cowards, we aren't heroes by any stretch of the word, but were not pussies. Together though, we get stupid brave. I'm sure you might see where this is leading. To us it was a natural shift. It took a few hours of grimly trudging along in the direction we believed was the right way to go for the shift to happen, but it was kind of inevitable. Screw this thing. Screw this stupid talking thing. I broke the silence proper, started bitching about the girls on this island, how they had curves like a dirt road. Tony countered immediately that I lacked the proper gear to drive a dirt road. We started chattering again, this time aggressively, we were defying this damned spooky thing. We began the most ridiculous conversations. How do you properly screw a dolphin? Do you beach it and plug the blowhole? Do you sneak up on it in a zodiac, spear gun it's rear end and go at an eye socket? Crap like that. We were uncouth savages. We were listening for that stupid echo, waiting for it. We were not disappointed. The echoes started up, it was hard to get a location, but the best I could figure was back and towards my side a bit. Tony scored a major victory when he said something along the lines of, "Dance around that flagpole bare-assed and body-painted like I'm a drag-queen paramount." The echo came back as "I'm a drag-queen." Tony stopped in his tracks, turned around and screamed back at it, "YOU'RE loving RIGHT YOUR A DRAG-QUEEN YOU DICK EYED JUNGLE oval office!" It was liberating, terrifying though. That was the first time we actually addressed the god damned thing. But we did, we addressed it, we acknowledged it as existing and that just sat bad. A small victory but that feeling in our guts, that wasn't the feeling you get when you win a fight. It's the feeling you get when you start a war. When Tony had called that thing out it was a declaration of war. We both started getting hostile, not towards each other mind you, but towards this whatever the hell it was. We got to planning, and threatening, vocalizing the horrible things we were planning on doing to it once we caught a hold of it. I distinctly remember Tony saying something along the lines of "I'm strangle this goofy-assed thing, I'ma kill it with my bare hands." I laughed, "Dude what if it's a fuckin' nigrido and he's just screwing with us." Tony just stared at me. I shrugged, couldn't blame him for the sentiment really. Thing is, we kept going on, we never turned around, neither of us wanted to actually stand our ground or charge off after it. There was this distinct sensation that doing so would have been one helluva bad idea. We were getting hungry though and figured that it was probably time to do something about it. There's a lot to eat in the jungle if you're not shy, frogs, bugs and the like can keep you going like a trail ration, but if you want something with more substance you have to kill it, or if you're some sort of fancy botanist I suppose you can tell a jungle death turnip from a potato and do it that way. We were not botanists, and I only knew which plants could get me high, unconscious or stop bleeding. Tony climbed up a tree and managed to brain some sort of monkey critter with a rock. The guy could be quiet as hell, and the monkey critters out here were curious and stupid. The specific trap we used to catch the monkey off guard was me laying down in a space between some trees and doing my best curly impression from the Three Stooges. You know the thing where you lay on your side, and start running and kind of churn circles while going "whooop whooop whooop." Well, that's what I was doing, which got a few monkeys coming down and looking at us like dude, what the gently caress are you doing, and Tony hit one with a rock. We were some crafty bitches. I managed to start an acceptable fire, previously I had taken our tinder and folded it up in a dry leaf and worn it on my head like an idiot. The campfire was tiny, but it did the trick, I cleaned the monkey critter as best I could and we cooked it old school on some sticks. The sticks caught fire frequently, and a lot of the meat burned to inedible carbon but my god it was good. We cooked the hell out of that monkey, I'm sure it was loaded with parasites, but burning the hell out of it had to help, and I figured we could get purged when we got back to our unit, or hell, just the village if I could boil some water and drop some tabs. The other monkey critters watched us eat, they were quiet, just staring. Probably should have felt bad about that in hindsight, but neither of us was feeling charitable or friendly really. Something about having meat in our bellies and actual fire, albeit a small one made us feel a lot more ready for this weird poo poo and we got to planning on how we were gonna handle it. Idea one was to continue on as we were going and maybe just pick up the pace. It was the safest idea by far and Tony figured we had another day until we got to either a lovely road we could navigate off of or a larger river we could follow. Idea two was to cover ourselves in mud, arm ourselves with bows made from roots and poo poo and ambush the thing. I poo poo you not, we figured why the hell not. Idea three was to split apart at night, have each person in a different tree and stay up until whatever it was came snooting around. Whoever was in the tree it decided to investigate would signal the other who would come down and murder the hell out of it from the rear. I liked idea three and voted for it, Tony voted for two and the monkey's skull sided with me making it a unanimous vote for idea three, because Tony was Italian and Italians don't get to vote. There was some threatening of each other's life, but in the end we pretty much settled on our two tree ambush idea. We didn't move from that site that day. We sharpened some sticks, thick short ones make good spikes. Tony let me keep the knife since I was a bit swifter with it than he was and he carried the spikes. The guy is strong, much stronger than me and I figured he could put those things too much better use than I if he could get a good line up. Figured it would go like this. It would start bothering one or the other of us who would throw a twig at his buddy. Buddy would come down and engage whatever it was, at which point the initial target would drop down and help secure the kill. We went over it a coupla different times, figured out some possible oh-poo poo secondary plans but really, there wasn't much to it. This thing had been creeping us out for awhile and we wanted it dead, we felt kind of elated by the thought of killing it. Turn the tables on its rear end and come out like badasses. We got ourselves motivated and I did something which is I guess kind of embarrassing but whatever. I put on warpaint. I guess that's dorky as hell. I took some of the black-silt soil we had been around, mixed it with monkey-juice and smeared three dark lines across my face. Tony thought I looked kinda badass so he did the same. We used to do this during training and paintball games, hell, once during a hide and go seek game with some corpsman girls at camp lester we did it. Yes, we played hide and go seek, with the legitimate intent of getting laid by said corpgirls, yes we smeared our face paint on the aforementioned corpgirls. He did a full on handprint on his face, it looked very Conan meets Geronimo meets a Guido. The paint tightened up into pretty solid noticeable lines when the fluids coagulated, which took all of fifteen minutes or so. Our site was decent too, an opening in the canopy over where we had set our campfire promised that if there was any light to be had that night, we'd be able to make some use of it. We picked out our trees, climbed up there and took a few practice throws with twigs we had nearby. I hit him in the eye, he kept aiming at my balls. Spirits were high, sort of...it was a false high, bravado I think. Night came, and with it, bugsong. High chirps and cackling buzzes all over the place. I near pissed myself when what I had assumed to be a knot of wood next to my thigh twitched and started this staccato screech that ricocheted off the trees. Was a big assed beetle thing. We lucked out in that cloud cover was lighter than it typically is and we had a good moon. Not bright by any stretch, but more than we had any night previous. We waited. Felt like forever, sitting up in a tree, trying to keep your heartbeat regular. Knowing the second we heard whatever it was we heard we'd get that adrenaline kick to the nuts that would make our whole body start shaking. I'm not sure how long we waited up there before it came. At first I missed it entirely, I was so intent on listening for it I missed it entirely. When I finally zeroed in on the snuffling, rummaging, muttering beneath me I realized I had been hearing it for some time now. It was under me. Me. I pulled my knife up and crouched on my branch, my free hand making sure for the love of god I had a strong hold on a nearby branch. I took a few minutes to steady myself and really listen. I wanted to make sure of a few things before I alerted Tony. I desperately wanted this thing to be alone, and I wanted to get a general idea of its size. Size wasn't too hard, judging by the heaviness of the rummaging going on beneath me it was man-sized, maybe a bit bigger but lower to the ground. As for the numbers, well gently caress...I only heard one. Small comfort that. I had a pile of little pre-snapped twigs and I grabbed the whole drat thing and tossed it towards Tony's tree. Now, remember I said Tony can be a quiet guy. I had no idea if I had hit him, or if he had started moving, I could only really guess as to the actions over on his end. I got a good grip on the branch with my legs and made to swing under it, do kind of spider man maneuver and maybe stab downwards. It was a bit overelaborate yeah, but I used to climb trees all the time as a kid, and dangling like a douchebag was second nature. Nowadays the dangling not so much, douchebag I still got. Anyways, I'm dangling, I let go with my hands and get ready to knife this loving thing in the head when I see it. A huge moment of confusion washed over me when it happened. I drat near went loose and fell off my branch. Tony is looking straight up at me. He's gotta be like, four feet off the ground just lookin at me with this blank retarded look on his face. Mind you, its pretty dark, but I can see a face...swear it looked like him, at first. Then I focus on it a bit more and notice. It has no loving facepaint. It's not Tony. poo poo, it doesn't even look like Tony's face anymore, it's just A face. But it's a god damned human face, looking up at me, blinking. My blood runs cold and I can feel my body come to a screeching halt. "Tony, get the gently caress back up in your tree." I say. "Up in your tree." It says back, sounding pleased with its god damned self. I can hear Tony, the real Tony over there in his tree rustle as he gets right the hell back up in the branches. "What the hell is goin' on, what the hell, what the heeeeell is that." He's got this angry nervousness in his voice. I've heard him like this only a few times, usually before we got our collective asses kicked by some angry merchant marines. The thing is still staring at me, and I'm making out more of its body. It's a loving pig. I mean, it's body. Its got the broad rectangular barrel of a body. Its quadruped though I cant make out the distinct feet, its got a human, or at least human-ish face. "It's a pig Tony, it's just a god damned pig." I say, and the thing is mimicking me just the same as always. I can hear an exasperated sigh over in the other tree and I continue, "It's got a people face though, stay the gently caress up in that tree Doc." Doc is a magic word to corpsmen, its a business word and it isn't lightly used, marines call us Doc, but usually only after we've proven ourselves I guess you could say, corpsmen rarely refer to each other as such, unless were trying to elaborate on a point. I was elaborating my point as hard as I could, as calmly as I could, without making GBS threads myself. I was still upside down, if I had poo poo myself, well...think about how unpleasant it would be to fill your pants and then have it run up your damned back and into your hair. Blech. Man-face is looking up at me and Tony goes silent over there. We stare at each other for along while before I manage to find purchase and swivel back upright. I'm not looking down anymore, let that thing root around. I didn't sleep that night. It left before morning, like it always did and Tony and I went to ground and moved out, as fast as possible. We talked little, only that what I had seen was an unquantifiable thing, I could not predict any actions outcome on something I knew absolutely nothing about. I mean poo poo, if it had been like a tiger or something ridiculous like that, I could have figured something out, even something stupid, but not this thing. If it had been the nigrido, well, Tony and I would have likely kicked the hell out of him, but I woulda chilled Tony out before he killed him no problem. It wasn't anything I knew though, it was wrong, and bizarre and very disturbing. We immediately initiated idea one. We didn't hunt anymore monkeys, we didn't fish, we didn't eat bugs. We drank sparingly as we went, which gave us some serious dehydration issues. Tony had an idea of where to go and that's where we went, fast. Thank god for the river, when we found we made so many miles. We weren't playing around anymore either. The first civilian craft we saw, which was this lovely little rickshaw thing, we flagged it, asked for a lift and we got back home. When we arrived at the village we were haggard, dehydrated, cut up and miserable. This wasn't a big surprise to the nigridos, everybody came back from the practical like that. What bothered them is the man they sent out to watch over us never came back.
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# ? Feb 6, 2014 10:18 |
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Tonys a solid guy the kind of friend your lucky to have, he had my back and i cupped his balls. It didn't matter what kind of poo poo we were getting into because he was as solid as a blood clot and I was gay. The jungle was thick, dense and kind of not thin, you dont take two steps away from your buddy in there because if you do bam, you're two steps away from your buddy before you know it. It was like that level in tomb raider tony and had played together the night he stayed over and i accidentally fondled his rear end and i think he liked it. Time for the particulars. Although we were supposed to solo that thing me and tony said 'no dice jungle man' and they smiled and nodded their heads and covered their mouths with their hands and whispered 'fags' and laughed and I knew they thought we were wise. We get bags over our heads and plugs up our asses and the guy they sent after us? who knows. all i know is this; i went into that place a man and came out a man, not the same man but different because of what happened to me and my solid friend tony in that weird phillipine jungle.
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# ? Feb 6, 2014 13:23 |
Jimmy decided to take advantage of the last couple of weeks of summer break by taking his beat-up old Volvo and heading south. He'd never taken a road-trip before, and he was looking forward to being alone with his thoughts. After a day or so of driving, he found himself lost on some back roads. He didn't care, he knew he'd come to civilization eventually. But that was when the deer darted out in front of his car. "SORRRRRYYYYY" he screamed as he tried to swerve around the stupid animal, causing his car to fishtail and a tire to slip off the embankment, which caused his poor Volvo to flip onto it's roof and then back onto it's wheels in a spray of torn up bushes. Dazed, Jimmy crawled out of the wreck and staggered up the old country road, bleeding from some minor cuts and scrapes. Luckily, a little while later a friendly older man in a pickup truck stopped and offered him a ride to the nearest hospital. Jimmy gratefully accepted, although he was rather put off by the little pistol the man carried in a holster on his hip. Jimmy hoped the RCMP didn't pull them over. After bidding a grateful goodbye to the old man, Jimmy entered the little hospital and approached reception. Jimmy explained about the accident and asked to see a doctor, and the nurse said "Do you have any insurance?" With a slowly dawning horror, Jimmy realized he had accidentally entered the U.S. He backed away slowly from the nurse, eyeing her as if she were a wild animal, and ran from the hospital. He had to hide, oh god, there were gun-toting Americans everywhere. He dove into the bushes on the opposite side of the street, breathing heavily, but he noticed there was a thug gangsta from the hood in the bush beside him. "Give me your wallet or I break a cap into your rear end", said the thug gangsta from the hood, which Jimmy apologetically did. The gangsta cackled and ran off, screaming about "baby mamas". Jimmy then knew he only had hope of escaping this fascist hell-hole. He took a toonie from his pocket and popped out the metal bit in the middle of the coin. <Tax-funded Canadian emergency rescue activated>, said a tinny voice, and then played the Canadian National anthem, which Jimmy proudly sang along to. Within minutes, a Sea King helicopter flew overhead, and Mounties in bright red tactical suits dropped from the sky. "Secure the area, but don't make eye contact with the locals, eh!" yelled the Prime Mountie, and they quickly found Jimmy and scooped him up into the waiting helicopter. On the flight home, Jimmy dozed in the silent interior of the helicopter. He'd survived. Even though 3 in 4 Canadians who enter the U.S. die, he had managed to get out alive. He said a prayer to Canadian Jesus in thanks, and turned to the Mountie beside him to express his gratitude. The Mountie was already looking at him with wide eyes and an unsettling grin, and then the Mountie slowly reached up and peeled off his mask, revealing the snarling face of Barack Obama. "SWEET SOCIALIST FLESH", Barack muttered, as he reached for Jimmy's throat.
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# ? Feb 6, 2014 15:27 |
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are skeleton stories acceptable
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# ? Feb 6, 2014 18:07 |
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I once took a pee in a haunted house and a ghost came out and kept looking at my dick and I was like "hey ghost quit looking at my dick!" and the ghost was like "but it's soooo haaaanddsssooommeeeeeee" a pretty positive experience
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# ? Feb 6, 2014 18:09 |
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zoomdog posted:I once took a pee in a haunted house and a ghost came out and kept looking at my dick and I was like "hey ghost quit looking at my dick!" and the ghost was like "but it's soooo haaaanddsssooommeeeeeee" yeah hiv positive lmao
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# ? Feb 6, 2014 18:11 |
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GrrrlSweatshirt posted:yeah hiv positive lmao gently caress. good burn
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# ? Feb 6, 2014 18:13 |
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zoomdog posted:gently caress. good burn ty i've been practicing
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# ? Feb 6, 2014 18:13 |
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ChuckMaster posted:I don't like telling this one to people I know, since it either makes them afraid for my safety or sanity, but the goons here might find it interesting. tldr; guns cure ghost
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# ? Feb 6, 2014 19:43 |
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Did a mod move this thread back to GBS 1.4 to die? I thought it was going to be put in PYF or somewhere else in order to avoid the /b/tards?
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 01:33 |
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you are a goddamn moron or hosed in the head if you think you really saw a ghost hth
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 01:56 |
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Daedra posted:you are a goddamn moron or hosed in the head if you think you really saw a ghost hth
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 02:00 |
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Rime posted:Did a mod move this thread back to GBS 1.4 to die? I thought it was going to be put in PYF or somewhere else in order to avoid the /b/tards? I decided to experiment and spook up GBS. I think it's been somewhat of a failure so far. Hazo posted:Here are Onic's Yeah, it was him. His stories are just scattered about pretty drat well. Here's the link to the 2012 content. Daedra posted:you are a goddamn moron or hosed in the head if you think you really saw a ghost hth I'll bring it up with my shrink.
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 02:56 |
THIS IS THE STORY OF A DAY WHERE THERE WAS ALL THIS BLOOD. A MAN WAS WALKING AROUND AND BLOOD STARTED COMING OUT OF HIM EVERYWHERE. THERE WAS SO MUCH BLOOD THAT IT FILLED UP AN ELEVATOR. HE WENT TO THE STORE AND THERE WAS JUST BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE! PEOPLE WERE SLIPPING IN IT AND THEY WERE ALL GROSSED OUT. HE TRIED TO GO SWIMMING AND ALL OF THE SHARKS WENT NUTS AND BITTENED EVERYBODY. HE GOT CHASED BY ALL THE VAMPIRES EVER. ONE TIME THE BLOOD GOT A KID AND A DOG. AT THE END OF THE DAY EVERYONE DECIDED THEY WOULD SEND HIM TO SPACE SO THAT HE WOULD STOP GETTING BLOOD EVERY WHERE. THE SCARIEST PART IS THAT THE MAN WAS YOU!!! (OR HE WAS A LADY IF YOU ARE A LADY) AND YOU FORGOT THAT THIS HAPPENED
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 03:00 |
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Missing Name posted:I decided to experiment and spook up GBS. I think it's been somewhat of a failure so far. Yeah, I think it'd be a good idea to make a new thread to PYF since GBS seems to have degenerated to 4chan-levels. In every previous thread there's been a bunch of people who have joined SA just for these stories and this shitflinging isn't going to continue that, quite the opposite.
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 11:16 |
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there is a ghost that lives above my ceiling in the attic and he makes scratching noises at night
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 11:51 |
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Sid Vicious posted:THIS IS THE STORY OF A DAY WHERE THERE WAS ALL THIS BLOOD. A MAN WAS WALKING AROUND AND BLOOD STARTED COMING OUT OF HIM EVERYWHERE. THERE WAS SO MUCH BLOOD THAT IT FILLED UP AN ELEVATOR. HE WENT TO THE STORE AND THERE WAS JUST BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE! PEOPLE WERE SLIPPING IN IT AND THEY WERE ALL GROSSED OUT. HE TRIED TO GO SWIMMING AND ALL OF THE SHARKS WENT NUTS AND BITTENED EVERYBODY. HE GOT CHASED BY ALL THE VAMPIRES EVER. ONE TIME THE BLOOD GOT A KID AND A DOG. AT THE END OF THE DAY EVERYONE DECIDED THEY WOULD SEND HIM TO SPACE SO THAT HE WOULD STOP GETTING BLOOD EVERY WHERE. THE SCARIEST PART IS THAT THE MAN WAS YOU!!! (OR HE WAS A LADY IF YOU ARE A LADY) AND YOU FORGOT THAT THIS HAPPENED holy poo poo!
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 11:52 |
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GHOSTS AREN'T REAL, THEY AREN'T RE*is dragged from room by invisible force*
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 11:59 |
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Dropbear posted:Yeah, I think it'd be a good idea to make a new thread to PYF since GBS seems to have degenerated to 4chan-levels. In every previous thread there's been a bunch of people who have joined SA just for these stories and this shitflinging isn't going to continue that, quite the opposite.
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 12:03 |
Stop dick loving around and post some stories dawgs. The Midwest. The midwest is a region that conjures nothing to the imagination if you haven't lived in it. To those who have, it's true most is forgettable; a yard stick of strip malls and recycled culture from the coasts, the woods stand out. The dark living feel of the ground after a spring rain or the wet summer air clinging to every pore are impossible to forget. This story, however, was told to me about the winter. One January morning a hunter, or rather poacher if you want to get technical turned down a old gravel road. A sheet of snow covered the ice, potted with the red iron clay of the road bed. When I asked why a person would be out in those conditions it was explained to me that the worse the day the less likely you are to run into forest rangers on state land or shotgun packing property owners. The half ton truck skidded along, all four wheels struggled to grip, turn, and spin against the ice. It was slow going, but the hunter managed to park on a small embankment, it was nothing more than a bare patch about a carlength long and a few yards wide. The poacher opened his door and felt his feet sink with a dull crunch into a foot of fresh fallen snow. His mind was fixated, a mounted head can bring hundreds of dollars, more if it's a high point buck. He liked what he saw when his eyes covered the area, blackberry bushes clung around the north side of the road and black cherry trees mixed. He knew this could be a potential gold mine and reckoned even if he didn't get a head today he'd be sure to find some well worn paths in the snow that would yield fruit later. A cold wind reaped from the north, harvesting any warmth exposed. Steeled, the poacher drew the strings of his heavy coat's hood tight and produced a 30.06 from the truck's cab. Up close the camo of the jacket seemed nothing more than a joke, a garish clash of dark green and black against the backdrop of ivory powder. As he moved away from the truck the illusion took shape and it started to become indistinguishable from the dark outcrops of the bare trees, limbs stretched skyward like the hands of skeletons. The last thing seen from the truck was a faint glimmer as the sun reflected from the scope of his rifle. The hunter made a long circuit before working his way back toward the truck. At some point the north wind must have gotten to intense for confront or maybe he just figured luck wasn't with him that day. Regardless the dark figure came marching out of the woods. Puffs of steam flashing out of him like a locomotive. Each step toward the vehicle exaggerated as he had to raise his knees nearly chest high to trudge through the snow. The sun had moved considerably, not quite dusk, but getting darker, the sky began to change; frozen blue into a faded yellow. The poacher's legs dragged, body visibly exhausted as he approached, rifle held in the right hand by the butt, the barrel propped against his shoulder as a solider would. I was told he had just awoken from the back of the cab. That on normal circumstances he would go with his father to help field dress the head. That day he was ordered just to stay in the cab, that his short little legs would just slow him down. He guessed he'd been asleep for four or five hours, and was glad just to see his dad coming back. Even protected from the wind it had to be in the negatives inside the truck. He remembered not being able to feel his thighs despite the heavy pants he was wearing. He was just excited to get the engine purring and some heat flowing. All of that was chased from his mind with the smallest of glances. His mind wandered for a moment, he was curious how far his dad must have walked and his eyes darted to the foot prints as they led from the truck, they wove a line north with an acute angle at each black cherry or black berry bush. It was the small observations he made first, the scouting of the food trees, distance at it faded into the horizon, but after a brief instant his mind froze. The foot prints of his father's boots were spaced roughly every couple feet, his size 11 imprinting the snow with the proof of his passage, but behind each boot print a large indentation resided. He told me they had to be two feet if they were an inch following the exact route of the poacher's. He remembered screaming, struggling with the seat to get into the front of the cab. As he fought to climb over the seat he felt his head jerk back, the hood of his jacket had become caught on the gun rack that adorned the rear window. It didn't take more than a couple seconds to free his clothing, but he said it moved in slow motion. In the distance, he saw his father stop, if from seeing the terror in his son's face contorted in the truck, a noise from behind, or maybe just sheer exhaustion he could not say. A hand pierced the hunter's belly from behind as easily if it reached through an open window. The snow around his feet started to drink the red pouring from his body. The world sat silent for half an instant then the body fell to its knees. He didn't have time to feel shock, as the body's head fell toward the snow a face peered out from behind. A red face bordered by course white hair, teeth like a thousand needles, a nose like a bull's nose was revealed as the life blood of the poacher dripped to the ground. It's eyes, dark red and filled with hatred, fixated at the truck, and its legs made gigantic strides towards it. Its body a blinding swirl of thrashing limbs and droplets of red from the belly of the hunter surged forward. He remembered the eyes most vividly, like drops of lava red fire caked with dark black cracks. He pulled with all of his strength and the rack sprung from the rear window with a crash. He fumbled with keyes still left in the ignition. The engine roared to life and they eyes moved closer still, hundreds of teeth chomping at the air, a monstrous black tongue darting in and out from between the rows of razors. He struggled putting it in gear, he remembered managing to get it on low gear and flooring it. He felt his heart sink as the wheels spun against the ice, the thing became clearer as it approached. He could see a coat of matted hair blanketing its body, rusty stains clinging in patches, its left arm painted red. Hands with long, thin fingers capped in dagger like claws. He finally locked eyes with the beast, in moments it would come shattering through the window, and he say the thing's eyes open wide and mouth curl into a toothy grin. Then the truck lurched and yanked itself free. Speeding away, sliding nearly off the road at every curve. He told me he finally crashed out highway O, a patrol car spotted him late that night. After hearing his story they conducted a search. No body was found and he spent the next few years in a therapy until he made up a story about how his father had just left him alone in the truck and never came back. It's easier for people to think he just abandoned his family, but he told me he still knew the truth. He told me if I ever wanted to know the truth to find a road flanked with black berry and wade into a deep snow.
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 13:11 |
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circ dick soleil posted:there is a ghost that lives above my ceiling in the attic and he makes scratching noises at night
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 13:36 |
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# ? May 4, 2024 14:53 |
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Dropbear posted:Yeah, I think it'd be a good idea to make a new thread to PYF since GBS seems to have degenerated to 4chan-levels. In every previous thread there's been a bunch of people who have joined SA just for these stories and this shitflinging isn't going to continue that, quite the opposite. Welcome to PYF, thank Noni.
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# ? Feb 11, 2014 15:15 |