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Post by Queen of Cunts on Jul 23, 2012 4:07:52 GMT -5
I was thinking we should post some of the best here. I sleep entirely too much, cure me.
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Post by sexystrife on Jul 24, 2012 10:55:11 GMT -5
THIS IS A FANTASTIC IDEA
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Jul 26, 2012 11:05:22 GMT -5
Number 1 Attachments:
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Jul 26, 2012 11:06:23 GMT -5
Also this guy needs to be here. Attachments:
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Post by sexystrife on Jul 26, 2012 14:32:44 GMT -5
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Jul 30, 2012 4:21:47 GMT -5
5am courtesy of Rose =D
Their eyes are focused on me and their mouths are wide open. There’s a strong scent of blood and I feel so paralyzed with fear. Here’s the thing. The second I make any hint that I’m not asleep anymore, I’m screwed. I’ll die, and there’s nobody around to save me. I’ve been trying to think of a way out, but the only idea I have is to rush for the door, run outside, and scream for help, hoping any neighbors hear me. It’s risky, but if I stay here, I’ll surely die.
He’s waiting for me to wake up and see his masterpiece. You’re probably wondering what’s going on. I do get ahead of myself sometimes. About three hours ago I heard screaming from the other side of the house. I got up and went to check the noise before I realized I had to use the restroom.
Instead of doing the smart, noble thing and investigating, I used the bathroom first. I could have gotten myself killed right then for my stupid actions. But I actually did my business and took a peek outside the bathroom. There was blood on the carpet. As any other sane human would do, I bolted back to my room, hiding under my sheets like the scared I was. I tried to convince myself to go back to sleep, and that this was just some weird, vivid dream or something. But I heard my bedroom door creak open, and like the terrified child I was, I peeked out from under my blankets to see what was going on.
I could see something dragging my parents into the room, obviously dead. It was not human, I can tell you that much. It was hairless, with no eyes and no clothing. It walked like a caveman, with its back slouched as it dragged my dead parents. But this thing was smarter than any caveman.
It propped my father against the edge of the bed, and made him face me. It then sat my mother down in the chair and positioned her towards me as well. Then, it started rubbing it’s hands along the walls, staining it with blood, drawing a circle with the devils pentagram in it. This thing had made what it would probably call a masterpiece.
To finish it off, it scrambled a message onto the wall that I could not read in the darkness. It then positioned itself under my bed, waiting to strike.
The scariest thing now is, my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and since then, I can read the message on the wall. I don’t want to look at, because it’s terrifying to think about, but I feel I need to see before I’m killed.
I peek at the creatures masterpiece.
‘I know you’re awake.’
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Aug 1, 2012 5:26:04 GMT -5
A young girl is playing in her bedroom when she hears her mother call to her from the kitchen, so she runs downstairs to meet her mother.
As she’s running through the hallway, the door to the cupboard under the stairs opens, and a hand reaches out and pulls her in. It’s her mother. She whispers to her child, “Don’t go into the kitchen. I heard it too.”
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Aug 1, 2012 6:08:18 GMT -5
White With Red
A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed.
The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to.
This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.
At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, “Did you look through the keyhole?”
The man told her that he had and she said, “Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red.”
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Aug 1, 2012 6:10:10 GMT -5
I lay in my bed, restless and alone, on a dark and silent night I toss and turn in my bed, trying to find a comfortable spot, but I feel uneasy. Something about tonight just didn’t feel right. I toss and turn until I finally find a comfortable position. I close my eyes, but it doesn’t make a difference, it’s too dark in my room to see a thing anyways. I guess it takes time for my eyes to adjust to darkness. I lay there, still and silent on a still and silent night. My body is relaxed, my mind is blank, and I’m ready for some much needed rest. Instantly, the silence is shattered and my mind fills with fearful thoughts as my startled eyes flash open.
Knock. Knock
It’s almost undoubtedly the sound of a fist on glass. But no, itcouldn’t be, what would someone’s motivation be to wake someone alone in their home. Think logically. If someone wanted to break in, why would they warn me with a knock? They would just break in, making a loud and obvious noise, or try to be as silent as possible. Why would they knock? Monsters don’t exist. I could give myself some peace of mind and simply look out the window, but I’m facing the other way and I’m too timid to turn my head, afraid of finding my greatest fears standing outside my window. What could it be though? Maybe a couple of birds flew into my window. No, that’s too unrealistic. Could a group of kids be running around late at night, knocking on windows to get a few laughs? It’s a possibility. Come to think of it, maybe it was my imagination. Maybe I heard the usual creak in the house and my paranoid mind has mistaken it for a knock.
Knock Knock.
Nope, that definitely wasn’t my imagination. Those damn kids are persistent. They don’t want to quit until they get that reaction. Maybe some sick twisted freak is standing outside waiting for me to look so he can smash through and attack me. No, don’t think that. Don’t get Paranoid. Besides, he’s outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe. Monsters don’t exist. Besides, I haven’t moved yet, hopefully those kids will think I’m a heavy sleeper and leave me alone.
Knock Knock.
No, it can’t be kids. No kid would wait around this long just to get a reaction from one, lonely guy; they’d just get bored and move along. But, what could it be? Why would a serial killer target me, of all people? Think logically. Monsters don’t exist. Don’t get paranoid. They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe. But if it’s not a monster or some sort of killer, what could it be? Just pretend to be asleep and maybe they’ll go away.
Knock. Knock.
Oh God I can’t think of a noise I hate more than that persistent knock! Please go away! Just leave me alone and let me be! There’s no hope. It’s going to get in here and do sick and horrible things to me. Inhale. Take deep breaths. I can feel my heart pound out of my chest Just relax. Monsters don’t exist. Remember, they’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter I know I’m safe. Repeat that. Don’t let your fear get the best of you. Just pretend to be asleep. Don’t move a muscle.
Knock. Knock.
They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe. Monsters don’t exist. Just pretend to be asleep and pray it’ll go away.
Knock. Knock.
They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe. Frightful tears begin to drip down my face. Monsters don’t exist. Monsters DO NOT exist. I begin to whisper to myself, “They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe. They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe.”
Knock. Knock.
I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE! I’m gonna go mad listening to these knocks! At least if I see what it is I’ll have peace of mind! Take a deep breath. I repeat to myself, one more time, “They’re outside, I’m inside, until I hear a shatter, I know I’m safe.” I take a few more breaths, my heart pounding as hard as it’s ever pounded at a mile a minute. I slowly turn my head to face the window. My heart sinks into my chest and I’m too afraid to scream or move. I turned my head to find a pale figure with beady, black eyes staring through me and into my soul as a horrid grin creeps across its face. It was standing inside the whole time, knocking on my window.
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Aug 1, 2012 9:45:09 GMT -5
It’s a typical night for me, not much to do other than look up interesting things on the computer or play video games. It’s rare that I go to sleep early anymore, let alone even feel tired before 1 AM. After a while I start to feel that all too familiar fatigue of a long day. Two jobs can really take it out of you, heh. It’s 1:22 AM now and as per usual I leave my TV on with a timer. I can’t really fall asleep with nothing emitting some sort of background noise. I have a pretty hyper active imagination and at times can go mad when there is only silence. You might think that darkness leads me there quicker but not really, I like the dark actually. Nowadays I’m not scared of much…other than spiders and clowns.
As I start to slip into that rest that I so deserve after a long day, hearing the low volume antics of whatever late night show is currently on adult swim, I fall asleep. After that I start to dream…oddly though, I start to dream that I’m outside the house, just staring at the door. I’ve no control over my actions…it’s almost like I’m looking through someone else’s vision. I slowly awake for no apparent reason. I didn’t hear a noise or get disrupted by anything else. I look over at the TV and the the clock…1:40 AM. I really need to get some sleep, so shuffling back into bed and paying no mind to my unorthodox little dream I go to sleep.
Again my vision goes to someone, the same person perhaps. This person is now in the house. I can’t control this person at all. He…she…or it starts walking up the stairs. Though this knocks me out of sleeping as I start to hear the footsteps up the stairs. That creaking which just about makes anyone’s presence known. I slowly get out of bed, turning on all the lights before I proceed. Grabbing a metal vacuum extension I turn around the corner to be greeted by…nothing. No open door, no window cracked open, my cat is sound asleep downstairs. Nothing in the house looks different than last I saw it. I chuckled to myself and muttered that I must be going crazy. Got a glass of water and shrugged it off. As I walk back up to my room I still get an eerie feeling. Those visions really were shaking me up. No matter, I’ll go back to sleep and wake up realizing it was my own imagination, haha…
Back in bed, it is now 2:12 AM. I extend the timer on my TV a bit more and sprawl around until I find a comfortable position. Ah yes…on my left side, two pillows under my head and one in between my knees for maximum comfort. As I start to fall asleep, I am once again brought back to that vision. Of this…thing whatever it is. But it was last seen halfway up my stairs, it’s now in front my TV casting a blurry shadow onto my bed, just staring at me…I am aware I’m looking at myself and struggle to wake up. I dart up out of bed and let out a soft yell. Nothing is there again. Nothing outside, nothing in my room, no one in my closet…not even under the bed. But that wasn’t the worst part, I got a sense of…fear. An extreme sense of fear, almost on the verge of tears but I hold it back. Leaving the lights on in my room, determined to shrug off this feeling.
I turn on my 360 and start playing some video games…street fighter to be exact. Maybe some online ranked matches will get my mind off of…whatever the hell that was. After a little while and me getting my ass kicked I realize it’s almost 4 AM. My fatigue was getting the best of me, so I just turn off my 360, my light and my TV. Instead I put on YouTube video on my phone. Shuffling back into my bed I almost instantly fall asleep…
…
I wish I stayed up.
One last time my vision is in my room. But not just in my room…in my bed, next to me…staring for what seems like forever. After moments uninterrupted gazing,hands of shadow come out from my vision and heading towards me. I’m thrashing, crying, yelling…but none of it is working. I can’t wake up. WHY CAN’T I WAKE UP.
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Aug 1, 2012 9:49:12 GMT -5
The Lights Attachments:
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Aug 1, 2012 9:52:49 GMT -5
In 1983, a team of deeply pious scientists conducted a radical experiment in an undisclosed facility. The scientists had theorized that a human without access to any senses or ways to perceive stimuli would be able to perceive the presence of God. They believed that the five senses clouded our awareness of eternity, and without them, a human could actually establish contact with God by thought. An elderly man who claimed to have “nothing to left to live for” was the only test subject to volunteer. To purge him of all his senses, the scientists performed a complex operation in which every sensory nerve connection to the brain was surgically severed. Although the test subject retained full muscular function, he could not see, hear, taste, smell, or feel. With no possible way to communicate with or even sense the outside world, he was alone with his thoughts.
Scientists monitored him as he spoke aloud about his state of mind in jumbled, slurred sentences that he couldn’t even hear. After four days, the man claimed to be hearing hushed, unintelligible voices in his head. Assuming it was an onset of psychosis, the scientists paid little attention to the man’s concerns.
Two days later, the man cried that he could hear his dead wife speaking with him, and even more, he could communicate back. The scientists were intrigued, but were not convinced until the subject started naming dead relatives of the scientists. He repeated personal information to the scientists that only their dead spouses and parents would have known. At this point, a sizable portion of scientists left the study.
After a week of conversing with the deceased through his thoughts, the subject became distressed, saying the voices were overwhelming. In every waking moment, his consciousness was bombarded by hundreds of voices that refused to leave him alone. He frequently threw himself against the wall, trying to elicit a pain response. He begged the scientists for sedatives, so he could escape the voices by sleeping. This tactic worked for three days, until he started having severe night terrors. The subject repeatedly said that he could see and hear the deceased in his dreams.
Only a day later, the subject began to scream and claw at his nonfunctional eyes, hoping to sense something in the physical world. The hysterical subject now said the voices of the dead were deafening and hostile, speaking of hell and the end of the world. At one point, he yelled “No heaven, no forgiveness” for five hours straight. He continually begged to be killed, but the scientists were convinced that he was close to establishing contact with God.
After another day, the subject could no longer form coherent sentences. Seemingly mad, he started to bite off chunks of flesh from his arm. The scientists rushed into the test chamber and restrained him to a table so he could not kill himself. After a few hours of being tied down, the subject halted his struggling and screaming. He stared blankly at the ceiling as teardrops silently streaked across his face. For two weeks, the subject had to be manually rehydrated due to the constant crying. Eventually, he turned his head and, despite his blindness, made focused eye contact with a scientist for the first time in the study. He whispered “I have spoken with God, and he has abandoned us” and his vital signs stopped. There was no apparent cause of death.
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Aug 1, 2012 10:15:35 GMT -5
You might already have heard of the TV broadcast hijacking in Seneca, South Carolina; the story’s gained pretty wide currency on the Internet, and part of the broadcast is available on youtube, assuming it hasn’t been taken down for whatever reason. For the uninitiated, the Seneca hijacking is one of the lesser-known broadcast signal intrusions. It was big news here, but the nation news media barely touched on it. Anyway, I’ve decided to jot down my impressions of the whole thing, even though other eyewitnesses have already described it more eloquently than I could.
I was home on winter break when it happened, making chemistry flashcards in front of the TV. No one else was around. After watching the umpteenth Law and Order rerun, I got bored and started channel surfing. A couple minutes later, I stumbled onto this shitty public access channel where, bizarrely enough, my old high school Latin teacher was reciting a poem while wearing this dorky three-cornered hat. I watched for a few minutes and had a good laugh—I remembered him as a pretty serious guy, not the sort of person who’d embarrass himself in public like this—when suddenly there was this static-y crackle and the screen cut to this multi-colored test pattern.
Before I had time to change the channel, there’s another crackle and this weird cartoon shows up on screen. The animation style was detailed, but kind of jiggly and rough—it reminded me of those old anti-drug PSAs. Anyway, it seemed “normal” enough at first—an ordinary-looking middle class family eating breakfast together at a round kitchen table. There was a mom with an old-fashioned hairdo, a dad, two cherub-faced kids, a boy and a girl—all very Norman Rockwell. The family is making banal small talk: the dad complains about his day at the office, the kids prattle on about soccer practice, and so on. Gradually, though, the scene starts to get slightly sinister—a green light is seeping through the open window, and the family starts to acquire a jaundiced, unhealthy look: their skin changes color and their eyes become sunken. In the background, a droning radio broadcast slowly becomes perceptible: the announcer gives the date as November 15th, 2017, and starts to go on and on about some strange crisis—you can barely hear what he’s saying. He says something about a green light, melting flesh, mutations, strange shapes emerging from the sea; again and again, the phrase “Report to the nearest shelter immediately” is audible. Still, the family keeps eating breakfast as if nothing was happening.
And here’s where it gets really macabre. The family finishes eating breakfast and the mom loads the kids into a minivan. By now they look *really* unhealthy: their bodies are skeletally thin, the whites of their eyes are a sickly yellowish color, and their hair is disheveled. The car drives through a landscape bathed in the green glow from before. Strange shapes bob in and out of the screen, but you can’t quite tell what they are, and all the buildings the car passes look weathered and deserted. Finally, the car stops at a playground and the mom drops off the kids before driving away. There are large, odd-colored rocks all over the ground and moaning can be heard in the distance. The kids hang mirthlessly on the monkey bars for a while. Eventually, the camera pans over the playground, and you see that the rocks littering the ground aren’t rocks at all but naked human forms, horribly disfigured. They seemed to be either growing into or from the ground—I can’t say which. And they are very much alive. Behind the monkey bars, a tree can be seen with a human face growing from the trunk—its features are writhing and contorted in agony.
The scene suddenly shifts to a white collar office where the children’s father is stooped over a desktop, typing away. His features are as sunken and diseased as that of the other family members, and the office is covered in a green glow. In the other cubicles, fleshless corpses sit upright at their desks, frozen in death.
Finally, we see the family return home for the evening, walking through the front door together. Their skin is no longer simply jaundiced but actually melting off—dripping from their outstretched arms and running down their faces in drops. As they are literally falling to pieces, the family sits down in the dining room and begins wordlessly to eat dinner. Their flesh becomes more and more amorphous, ribbons of skin dangling from their bodies like the tendrils of an octopus. I can barely describe it, but they somehow begin to…merge with the chairs they are seated on—or rather, their skin grows over them. By now, their skin has the consistency of melted ice cream, and they are barely recognizable as human—except for their eyes, which somehow remain intact. The camera zooms closer and closer to the table, and finally their eyes all move directly towards the camera, conveying a feeling of unfathomable sadness. The screen goes black and large white letters appear on the screen: “Report to the nearest shelter immediately. Remaining at private residences is strictly prohibited.” And with that, the screen turned to static. I stared in stunned silence for a few minutes before the banal local channel switched back on.
And that’s all I know, really. I almost thought I was dreaming until the paper reported the story the next day. God knows what really happened: a ridiculously elaborate prank? An ill-advised viral marketing campaign? The crazier parts of the Internet have their own theories. You can look up the video yourself if you’re morbidly curious.
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Aug 1, 2012 10:18:25 GMT -5
I was a single father at the time. My wife had been a narcissistic madwoman who wasn’t capable of taking care of herself, so our divorce was more or less a blessing to me. When we had separated, I was granted custody of our young son, who was my entire life. During our marriage, my wife had complained that I spent too much time doting on him rather than her, who apparently thought she deserved acknowledgment. Having that witch out of the house and away from my boy had many advantages about it, but it also had some drawbacks. I was working all the time, so often I would hire a babysitter or call my parents and see if they could watch my son. I usually tried to get my parents to do it, but every now and again I had to settle with Marcy, the only babysitter who was ever available on short notice. I never particularly liked Marcy, as she was always a bit on the irresponsible side. Marcy would often spend most of the time babysitting on the phone rather than paying attention to my child, and every time she saw my car pull into the driveway she grabbed her things and left through the back door… She was a pain. But she was all that was available.
One night, I stepped into my home and I called her name, but there was no answer. I assumed she must have left through the back door again, so I paid no attention to her lack of answer. I walked into the living room and saw that at the top of my stairs was my son, still in his pajamas.
“Hey, sport,” I called to him, before noticing the look on his face. “Something wrong, son?”
“I had a nightmare, Daddy,” he told me, before running down the stairs to hug me. “It was so scary…”
“What happened in it?” I asked. He hugged me tighter.
“I was walking down the hall when I heard the sound of Marcy humming downstairs. I hid in the dark of the tops of the stairs where she couldn’t see me, and I spied on her doing her homework in the kitchen. After a few minutes, the pantry door behind her opened silently. She was listening to her little music thingy, so she didn’t hear it. Out of the pantry there was this naked monster man with tiny little black eyes…” he shivered.
“Go on, son,” I cajoled.
“Well, the monster man watched her for a long time, and then he waved his hand at the closet in the living room. It opened, and another monster man came out of that door. She was focused on her homework and her music and it was dark so she didn’t see him either. The two monster men watched her for a while before the second monster man waved at the window. The curtain was pushed away, and there was another monster man behind it. Marcy didn’t see him either… so then, the third and second monster men waved at the basement door, and two monster men came out. I was so scared, Daddy… but I tried to be quiet and none of them saw me.
“They all watched Marcy for a few minutes before the one right behind her started growling. She didn’t hear it. It growled louder. She made a face and blinked. I was praying that she wouldn’t turn around, Daddy. But she did. She screamed and screamed and cried and screamed, and all the naked monster men ran up and started attacking her. They ripped her into pieces and ate them all… and when they were done they licked up all the blood on the floor. Then they all nodded at each other, and they all went back to where they were before…in the pantry, in the closet, behind the curtain, in the basement… and I just sat at the top of the stairs, I was so scared Daddy…”
I pulled the boy closer as he softly began to cry. I gave him a soft kiss on the cheek as I tried my best to comfort him. “…Then what happened, son?”
“… I… I went to leave and get the neighbors to help. I thought that if I ran fast enough to the door, they wouldn’t catch me. I ran as fast as I could… but they all jumped out at me, Daddy. They were so scary. They grabbed me and were about to eat me when… when…”
“What happened, son?”
He stuttered as he attempted to weep out the rest of the tale.
“You can tell me anything, son… what happened?” I stroked his hair as he began to compose himself.
“I… I… I told them that if they let me go… I would stall you when you came home, so they could get you too, Daddy… and spare me.”
All was silent for a moment. And in that moment, I could hear a series of doors opening all around the house. My son buried his face in my chest.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
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Post by Queen of Cunts on Aug 1, 2012 10:19:02 GMT -5
Photographs
A few months ago a friend of mine, who is an up-and-coming nature photographer, decided to spend a day and night alone in the woods outside of our town. She wanted to get photos of the woods and wildlife as naturally as she could for her portfolio. She wasn’t afraid of being alone, as she had camped by herself many times before. She set up a tent in the middle of a small clearing and spent the day taking pictures. She filled up four rolls of film on that trip, but something was strange about them. What she saw in those pictures has stayed with her ever since, and she is still trying to recover from the trauma the have caused her.
Almost every picture was accounted for, save for one picture in each roll of film. These pictures were of her, asleep in her tent in the middle of the night.
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