Post with 16 notes
A pretty woman was serving a life sentence in prison for murder. Angry and resentful about her situation, she decided that she couldn’t spend her life in prison. She began plotting ways to escape from the jail.
She became good friends with one of the prison caretakers. His job was to bury any prisoners who died, in a graveyard just outside the prison walls. Whenever a prisoner died, the caretaker rang a bell, which was heard by all of the prison inmates. The caretaker then got the body and put it in a casket. Next, he entered his office to fill out the death certificate before returning to the casket to nail the lid shut. Finally, he put the casket on a wagon to take it to the graveyard and bury it.
Knowing this routine, the woman devised an escape plan and shared it with the caretaker. The next time the bell rang, the woman would leave her cell and sneak into the dark room where the coffins were kept.
She would slip into the coffin with the dead body while the caretaker was filling out the death certificate. When the caretaker returned, he would nail the lid shut and take the coffin outside the prison with the woman in the coffin along with the dead body. He would then bury the coffin.
The woman knew there would be enough air for her to breathe until later in the evening when the caretaker would return to the graveyard under cover of darkness, dig up the coffin, and set her free.
The caretaker was reluctant to go along with this plan, but since he and the woman had become good friends over the years, he agreed to do it. The woman waited several weeks for one of the other prison inmates to die.
One night, she was asleep in her cell when she heard the death bell ringing. She got up, picked the lock of her cell, and slowly walked down the hallway. She was nearly caught a couple of times. Her heart was beating fast.
She opened the door to the darkened room where the coffins were kept. Quietly in the dark, she found the coffin that contained the dead body, carefully climbed into it and pulled the lid shut to wait for the caretaker to come and nail the lid down.
Soon she heard footsteps and the pounding of the hammer and nails. Even though she was very uncomfortable in the coffin with the dead body beneath her, she knew that with each nail she was one step closer to freedom.
The coffin was lifted onto the wagon and taken outside to the graveyard. She could feel the coffin being lowered into the ground. She didn’t make a sound as the coffin hit the bottom of the grave with a thud.
Finally she heard the dirt dropping onto the top of the wooden coffin, and she knew that it was only a matter of time until she would be free at last. After several minutes of absolute silence, she began to chuckle quietly to herself.
Feeling curious, she decided to light a match to find out the identity of the dead prisoner beside her. To her horror, she discovered that she was lying on top of the dead caretaker.
Post with 32 notes
When a little girl’s cat had kittens they disappeared, after a couple of days, she asked her mother what happened to them and her mother said “God took them.”
Months later the cat again had a litter of kittens. Her mother sent her out to run some errands, but, before she left, she wanted to play with the kittens again. She heard her father coming carrying a bucket and hid from him. She watched while her father put the kittens in a sack and drowned them in the bucket. Later the girl again asked her mother what happened to the kittens. Her mother said “God took them.”
Several days later the mother asked the girl to watch her brother in the bath tub while she answered the phone. When the mother returned, she started screaming “What happened to him? What happened to him?”
The little girl told her “God took him.”
Post with 9 notes
A few years ago, there was a lady who lived near a mental hospital. One night, she was at home watching TV, waiting for a phone call from her brother. He was flying into town to meet her and was going to call when his plane landed.
It was a very stormy night. Suddenly, the television program was interrupted by a news bulletin. The news reader said that a crazy woman had escaped from the local mental hospital. They doctors said that the crazy woman was very dangerous. She had killed 12 people before she had been caught and sent to the mental institution. They also said she was obsessive compulsive and was obsessed with light switches.
The woman was distracted by her phone ringing. It was her neighbour from across the street. He told her that her upstairs lights in one window kept flickering on and off. The lady thanked for letting her know and hung up the phone.
She thought it was probably just an electrical problem, but she decided to go upstairs and check, just in case. In the darkened hallway, through the crack under the door, she saw that the lights in one bedroom were indeed flickering on and off. Gripping the door handle, she opened it cautiously. The room was empty. The fan in the room was on and it was blowing a coat hanging beside it. The coat kept knocking the light switch on and off. Relieved, the lady turned off the fan and went back downstairs.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on her door. It was her neighbour again. He told her that the lights upstairs were still flickering on and off, but this time it was in a different window. Together, they went upstairs to check it out. When she opened the door of the room, the lady found it empty. The lights were off. Her neighbour stepped into the room and began switching the lights on and off again and again.
At this point, the lady decided that her neighbour must be imagining things, so she thanked him and escorted him downstairs. After he left, the phone started ringing. Her brother called to tell her he had arrived at the airport.
“You don’t need to pick me up”, he said. “I’m getting a taxi. I’ll be there in about half an hour.”
Then, on the line, she heard a raspy female voice say “I’ll see you soon.”
Post with 24 notes
Please, I beg of you not to go farther than this paragraph. Skip to the last paragraph and nothing will happen. They won’t get you. I hope you’ll take my advice…
There’s no hope left for you. Damn your curiosity! I’m holding them back as much as I can, but after this there is nothing left I can do for you.
They’ve found you now. There’s nothing I can do. They see you as I speak. They know where you live, and who you love. They’ll stop at nothing to get to you. Just commit suicide at this point. Because any self-inflicted pain is better than what they would do when they get to you. You only have a few hours. You could try and outrun them, but they’re faster and stronger than any man or machine.
Thank you for not reading past the first paragraph. Please leave and never speak of this place again. Don’t read to see what you have missed. I tell you that no good will come from it.
Post with 12 notes
It started last week. I just got out of school and en route to my car, I saw it. Across the field. It was too far away to get any details, but it was there. It was in the shape of a man, more or less. I just shrugged it off as some guy. Whatever.
But I kept seeing it. A few days ago I saw it again, standing in the middle of the field. Closer. I couldn’t make out any features, but I knew it was staring at me. I saw it standing there as I drove away. I pulled up my street, and had to park a the end of the block. I saw it again, standing in front of my house. This time, I could make out features. It wore a long coat, with the collar up. And it wore a sort of bowler hat, although the brim was longer, and made the face almost invisible. But not quite. The features remain faint, all I remember was the look. A look of almost primal hunger. It scared me to think that I would have to go right past it to get home. I steeled myself and began to walk. The thing never moved, but somehow got closer to me. I ran the other way and looked back. It was still the same distance away. Wherever I went, whatever I did, it would always be the same distance away.
Like right now for example. I don’t have long left. It is downstairs in the kitchen. It is close enough I can feel it. I can feel its hunger.
And it is getting closer.
Post with 21 notes
One ordinary day a little girl named Isabel, went shopping with her mother. Her mother strictly said to her that she couldn’t buy anything. So they walked pass a china doll shop and Isabel asked “Mummy can I have this doll please?!” “Isabel, remember what I said, No buying anything.”
Disappointed, Isabel kept walking until they came across a second hand store. “Mummy, can we have a look in there? PLEASE?!” Her mother agreed and after a few minutes Isabel picked up a doll that had a smile on it’s face and was holding up six fingers. Isabel raced to her mother and said “Mummy can I have this doll? Please oh please?” Her mother looked at the doll and said “Don’t you think it’s a bit creepy?”
Isabel shook her head and her mother said “Oh all right” and bought it for her.
Isabel played with her doll on the staircase all afternoon until her mother called her for dinner. “Don’t forget to pick up your dolly before bed time Isabel.” Her mother reminded Isabel. “Ok mummy.” Isabel was so distracted by her mother she forgot to pick up her doll from the staircase.
That night Isabel woke to someone whispering her name. “Isabel. Isabel. I’m on the stair case.” Her eyes shot open and she said “Mummy? Is that you?” No one answered. So she just went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She heard her name being called again. “Isabel. Isabel. Look behind you.” She was so startled that she dropped her glass and it smashed on her feet and cut them. She turned and saw her doll on the table.
She picked it up and said “you startled me Dolly.” and walked up the staircase cradling her doll in her arms.
The next morning her mother woke early in the morning and went to go wake Isabel. When she walked in her room, Isabel’s bed was vacant and a small blood trail led to her cupboard. Her mother carefully opened the cupboard and gasped. Isabel was in her cupboard with eyes dug out, slit throat and her mouth sewn shut. A bloody note was pinned to her chest and it said, written in Isabel’s blood, Look behind you. Isabel’s mother turned and saw Isabel’s doll sitting on her pillow, covered in blood and holding up seven fingers.
Post with 18 notes
Between the age of two and seven, I used to live in an old, beat up house with my family in the town Sapporo, Japan. Now, it is only an empty plot of land, after the house was torn down several years ago. I will also add that my mother is Japanese and my father is French, and I was pretty much trilingual (as I also spoke English) as long as I can remember.
These strange occurrences that I am about to talk about happened frequently when I just started talking, at the age of two, and had continued until I was at the age of four. My house had two stories, and was quite small, but a comfortable place nonetheless. As a child, I became extremely attached to this house, and my younger brother (at the time aged 2) would play together and run around in every single room, pretending we were explorers.
My mother has a Japanese friend that she knows from college, and at the time, she would come and visit us from their far away town every two to three months with her husband. They would spend a few nights with us, and take care of us kids when my mother would go out for work. My mother’s friend’s name is Michi.
Recently, I learned a chilling fact about my childhood behaviour from Michi, whom I sometimes talk with over Skype (she now lives in Florida with her American husband). Apparently, when I was around two to four years old, I would always speak to her (with all the words I knew) about a person that I would refer to as the ‘Ojisan’ (‘middle-aged man’ in Japanese). She would ask me if he was a next door neighbour, or a man I knew from preschool. I would always reply ‘no’. This is because I apparently genuinely believed that he resided in the very house I lived in.
As Michi is quite a superstitious woman, this used to creep her out immensely, and she would regularly talk about it to my mother. My mother, convinced that it was just some imaginary friend I had made (I was a strange little kid back then), just shrugged it off and told her not to take it too seriously.
My father taught me French in the house when I was little, through a child’s text book, and children’s songs on the old record player. One particular song I especially enjoyed was a French children’s song by the singer Claude Francois, called ‘Le Jouet Extraordinaire’ (‘The Extraordinary Toy’). I remember humming and singing and dancing to this particular song the most when I was a small child. I would ask my father to play it on the RPM on repeat so I could dance to it. One day, my father sat me down to eat lunch with my brother while my mother was out, and asked me in French, why I loved the song so much. My reply was apparently immediate and very casual:
“Ca fait L’Homme sourris” (”It makes the Man smile”)
My father, confused, asked me who this man was. I only shrugged, and continued eating my pasta.
Strange as this was, my mother even remembers how I used to play alone in the children’s room when my brother was at a special Japanese day care. I never minded being alone as a child, and as much as this made me an easy child to deal with, this sometimes worried both of my parents as well. My mother had caught me several times in that child’s room, up to strange things. She would hear me conversing with someone in the room, and would walk over to check, only to see me talking in Japanese to the empty space above my head.
All three people who had witnessed my strange behaviour as a child, claim I had really said and done these things. Unfortunately, I was too young, and cannot remember saying or doing any of this at all. None of it rang a bell in any sort of way.
Until last Spring.
Last April, I was still an exchange student in the UK, studying my A-Levels to get into the university in Tokyo that I now go to. At the time, I had a load of extremely important exams to worry about, and was quite stressed from the late nights of reading and revising. I was getting very little sleep, and decided I needed some soothing music to help me relax in bed at night. I tried classical music, jazz, everything, to no avail. That’s when I remembered Claude Francois - whose quieter songs I used to listen to before going to bed as a child. Overcome by nostalgia, I bought the entire album of his greatest hits on iTunes, and began listening to him again for the first time in fifteen years. I put the album on shuffle, and went to bed.
That night, I dreamed I was in that old house in Sapporo. I dreamed that I was walking through every single room in the house. Every room was still fresh in my memory. In the dream, I was looking for something, but I wasn’t sure what. I made my way upstairs, to the children’s bedroom. When I reached the landing and peered into the room, I saw him.
He was standing there next to the bed, staring straight at me with an expressionless face, as if he had expected me. He was a balding, middle-aged Japanese man, wearing a white shirt and dress pants. I remember staring into his face for a good minute, trying to recognize him.
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, he slowly smiled wide.
This filled me with a sudden rush of horror.
I woke up in my dark room, and immediately turned on the light. I was in hysterics. As I calmed myself down, I began to recognize the song that was playing when I woke up. It was ‘The Extraordinary Toy’. Overcome by a second wave of unexplainable horror, I quickly quit my iTunes. I stayed up all night sat up in my bed. I didn’t sleep a wink until it was time to get up for classes.
These ‘house’ dreams continued for a good week, even without the music. Every day, I would meet the man in a different room, and I would try and wake myself up before he decided to smile at me again. It sent me mad.
One Saturday morning, I woke up again from one of these dreams, and decided I need to do something about it. I grabbed my sketchbook and a pen, and began drawing my favourite rooms in the old house from memory. Then, I would add the Man into it. This sketching continued for the next three days, until I had a collection of drawings. This somehow left me satisfied, and I stopped dreaming about the Man afterwards.
Who the Man is, I still do not know. He might be a spirit. He might be the House, personified and asking me to reminisce about it once more. He might only be a fruit of my wild imagination.
All I know, is that I know this Man.
And he knows me.
Post with 18 notes
The Myth and Legend of the Blair Witch started in 1785 with an old woman who immigrated over to the States from Ireland. Her name was Elly Kedward.
The town she settled in was then known as “Blair”.
The townspeople found out that she was luring the children into her house and drawing blood from them. And so in 1786 accused her of being a witch. Their punishment for her was to cast her out into the forest in the middle of a harsh winter.
They presumed she succumbed to the elements.
By the end of that winter most of the children of Blair had suddenly disappeared. The townsfolk blamed the witch and proclaimed the township of Blair and the Black Woods as cursed.
The townsfolk soon abandoned Blair and vow to never mention Elly Kedward’s name again.
In 1809 a rare tome called THE BLAIR WITCH CULT is published. It tells of bloodletting and how the entire town of Blair is cursed by the Witch.
The abandoned township is accidently stumbled upon in 1824 when the railway is due to go through there. The new founders rename the town Burkittsville and the township is once again settled.
One year later a small girl named Eileen Treacle is pulled down by a ghostly hand into Tappy East Creek. There are 11 witnesses who watched as the small child is dragged under the shallow water. Her body is never recovered.
For thirteen days afterwards the creek is reported as being polluted with an oily substance along with masses of stick figures.
A farmer reports of having to move cattle from the creek area as cows that have drunk from it have died or had calves with birth defects.
In March 1886 another girl, Robin Weaver, is reported as missing in the woods. A search party is sent out looking for the young child. Robin returns telling of an old woman appearing to her in the forest. The woman did not walk but floated in the air. She took Robin to an old house and put her in the basement and asked her to wait whilst she left the house. Robin escaped through a window and returned to safety.
The first search party out looking for Robin disappeared. A second search party was sent out looking for them and were horrified to find the first search party disembowelled and placed upon coffin rock with strange pagan symbols carved into their faces and feet. By the way the ropes were cut into their skin the second search party could tell that these atrocities took place whilst they were alive.
The second search party returned to town bringing back the sheriff with them. They discover that there is no trace of the dead bodies but the air remains heavy with the stench of death. None of the bodies were ever recovered.
In November 1940 local children start to mysteriously disappear. Between the dates of November 1940 and May 1941 a total of seven children are reported as missing.
On 25th May, 1941 an old hermit, Rustin Parr, who was known for living in an old house on a hill in the woods comes into the local Burkittsville market exclaiming mysteriously that “I’ve finally finished”. This leads the police to hike up to his house in the woods where they discover seven children’s bodies ritualistically disembowelled with pagan symbols carved upon them.
Parr told of ghost of an old woman who appeared to him in a long dark hooded cloak when he was out walking in the woods. He claimed that on occasion he would call out to her or run after her only to have her mysteriously disappear. Rustin stopped seeing the woman in the woods but was left with an eerie voice in his head that told him to do things, sometimes in strange languages. He was at first told to do strange things like sleep in the cellar for a week at a time, he could not resist this strange voice telling him what to do and soon found himself being told to go down to Burkittsville and get the first two children that he saw.
In all Parr took eight children, but only killed seven of them. He claimed that the woman in the black cloak appeared to him after he’d killed the seventh child and told him that he was finished and that he was to go into town the very next day and tell everyone what he had done. She said she would leave him alone if he did this. Parr released the last child, Kyle Brodie and cried doing so.
When the police came upon his house they found poor Kyle dazed and confused on the front porch. Kyle was unable to speak.
They soon came across the bodies of the children in seven graves in the cellar.
Kyle Brody never recovered from the two months in Parr’s house. It was found that Kyle was forced to stand in the corner whilst a child was killed behind him. He remained institutionalized for the rest of his life until his death in 1971.
Rustin Parr was convicted and hanged.
The rest … is a movie.
Post with 28 notes
This happened over 10 years ago, but my mother re-told it 2 nights ago, I had totally forgotten.
At this time I was 6, my sister about 1 or 2.
My mother, sister and I were sitting on the couch watching a movie. We lived in an apartment building, and resided on the bottom floor.
Out of nowhere there was a knock at the window to our right, 3 times. At first we brushed it off, thinking it was an anime. But then it came again, three times.
I thought it was one of my friends so I walked to the window and peeked out, there was a man dressed in all black. He was wearing a hood and it was over his face, the weird part is that while it was daylight outside I could not see his face. I was afraid and told my mother this; she took me and my sister to the dining room to wait the mysterious man out.
When we were settled there was the same knock at the window to our right, again, three times. My mother was spooked and retrieved a knife from the kitchen and took us to her room. In this apartment my mother’s room was close to the front door, you could open the front door and immediately see her room and the kitchen.
My mother told me and my sister to get under the bed, we did so. There came a knocking at my mother’s bedroom window.
My mother took the phone off the set and dialled 911. While she was on the phone she looked through the peep hole, she said that the man paced back and forth in front of the door; so she could not get a good look at his face.
My mom informed him that she was on the phone with the police, he did not run, just continued to pace.
My mother moved back to the room with us and talked with the police. The knocking again persisted and my mother stayed on the phone with the police. After about 30-45 minutes the man went away, and the police never did come…
Post with 7 notes
Recently, I’ve been experiencing a lot of sickness. I say “experiencing” because the symptoms I have are rarely the same and I seem to recover very quickly without the use of any analgesic or medication. Not even Nyquil. One of the symptoms that often sneaks up on me are fevers; not bad ones, but I usually wake up uncomfortably hot with a pounding headache.
I have always been an insomniac, that is, I never really get good sleep. I could be dead tired and I will constantly wake up in the middle of the night, mind hazy, and then go back to sleep almost immediately. This happens so frequently during the night that I lose a good hour or so of rest, and I’m no stranger to falling asleep in school.
But when I’m sick, I find that my sleep is long, peaceful, and uninterrupted. Another phenomenon is I have long, detailed dreams in which actual solid plots and characters are built, when I usually dream in fragments and rarely about anything interesting. This has only been happening lately.
There is one dream in particular that I never miss during a night of sickness. He is a character my mind (I think) has created from something that gives me comfort otherwise; my favourite actor. This thing has his features, but they’re set in a way that makes him look scarily calm. The man is bad, really bad; there’s always an explanation as to how in the dream, but I can never remember it when I wake up. The most I can grasp is that he kills, and he wants what’s his.
He resides in a cave-like cell, but is waited on hand and foot by the others. They’re scared of him, even when he’s locked up; he holds some sort of unimaginable wrath that I really don’t care to find out about. Every night I dream, I visit him. It’s not something I can help; I am always escorted to his cell and left there inside with him. He talks, he tells me how he got there, he tells me what he’s going to do, but I can never remember any of it. Somehow, I’m left not even knowing if he said anything.
Sometimes I’ll hide from him. When I’m escorted to his cell, I’ll hide around the corner, but I know he’s sitting there, waiting for me. He doesn’t know I’m there at first, like he has a blind spot. I hide and I hide until I can’t take it any longer, and I give up. I reveal myself, and my will impresses him, and he likes me.
I wish he didn’t.
Last night he got loose. I don’t know how but it seemed he did so with little effort, like he knew how all along. I’m sitting there and he manages to leave, and I don’t know how to stop him. It’s like he’s charmed me into staying where I am and letting him do what he wants. He doesn’t like my will anymore when I get up, and he’s chasing me. And he hates me, and his words burn like fire, and oh god, I can feel him behind me, and my fever won’t wake me up, won’t wake me up, won’t wake me up!
My mother came in to wake me up this afternoon because I was whimpering in my sleep. My neck hurt like someone had grabbed it, and my head pounded with a terrible fever. I looked across my room, where a movie poster is pinned; my favourite actor is usually off to the side but still in the foreground, brooding, and just generally being attractive.
He’s not there anymore, and my head stings, and something close feels …triumphant.
I can’t hide for much longer. I’m so tired…
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