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A dangerous man in my car

True story, My name is Shen, I live in France, an i’m sorry for my bas english, If I remember correctly, it was 2017 when this story happened. We had my half brother and I 18 and 19 years old, we lived in France, only the mother of my half brother she, lives in Morocco, and so every year we spend a little stay there that he goes to see her, I had my license at that time and so we had the idea to go by car and go through Spain in order to visit a bit. We take the road from the French Riviera, 3 days of driving we expect, including of course the two nights at the hotel. Everything is going well in Spain, it is time to take the boat from the port of Malaga to go to Morocco where we arrive in Tangier, it is around 5.30pm when we arrived at the hotel in Rabat (city in Morocco) We are settling in there everything is fine, this is where things start to get weird. In booking our room the hostess was very helpful and professional, however with my brother we are starting to find it quite curious, "What time exactly are you leaving tomorrow?" Do you plan to take breaks on the road? where exactly are you going, where exactly is your car parked? "She tells us it's to clean the car, we just make the remark between my brother and I without really dwelling on it. The hostess asked us which road we were planning to take to get to Marrakech, she suggested we take the road towards Casablanca and is very insistent there without giving us time to answer, she told us that it will allow us to see beautiful landscapes etc, and unfortunately, we followed his advice. the day is breaking, the car has not been washed, but in short, my brother and I being very tired, we slept late until 12 noon, we decided to visit tangier a little before hitting the road. It is 10 p.m., after eating we decide to hit the road, I prefer driving at night makes me more comfortable in these conditions. Everything is going well, we listen to music, we take breaks on some kind of highway air, having dragged around a bit it is getting late, we have 3 hours of road left before arriving, it is around midnight , we're back on the road. On the highway, there are very high lampposts, some of which were not functional, so there were many areas where it was quite dark, I decided to be extra vigilant, continuing, I saw a group of nobody, around 7, behind security guardrails, I saw them quite quickly, but they were crouching, as if they were trying to hide while watching the road. My brother at that time was asleep. I keep driving without really asking myself a question, but I found it strange, I put myself in full headlight, and the second I do, I see a man in the right lane, I had to go at 120 -130 km / h on the center lane, I slowed down and reduced my speed to around 100 km / h, the man in question must have been in his forties, and there he rushes to my car and throws a rock , or rather a big stone on my windshield! I crush the brake pedal, in the incomprehension of what has just happened and under the shock, I stop, by removing the belt, by reflex, my eyes it directs towards the rearview mirror, I see a dozen of person running towards my car, I could not see really well knowing that it was dark, but I saw that they did not present empty hands (sticks, picks etc) taken with fear I click the first and crush the accelerator pedal. I speak to my brother at that moment while looking in the retro, he does not answer, I turn my gaze to him, he is unconscious, his skull is wide open, blood is flowing, the stone that has been launched is at his feet. Lost, I don't know what to do, I try to put my hand at the level of the impact he had on the skull to reduce the blood flow while driving, I cry out his first name but he does not respond and does not react, it is late nobody on the road, the few cars that I see, do not stop, I do not know where we are, where is the hospital? What am I going to do? A man comes up to me, he looks at me, I wave to him that I need help, he stops. I speak Arabic, I understand it, but to speak it I have to reflect on my words, and in panic it is not possible, but luckily, he speaks French. I explain the situation to him, he tells me that he will come with me in my car and guide me to the hospital, that he just has to get his phone in his car and that he will come back to his car by taxi, the situation is strange, it was cold and, why not just guide me from his car. With my brother and the hospital in mind as my only goal, I didn't think about it and accepted. He climbs in the back, and I start to ride, he says apologetically for not introducing himself his name is Said, and to take the first exit after about ten km. I introduce myself in turn by giving my first name. Someone chose to beep in the car, it's the phone he went to pick up in his car, except that it wasn't a phone but a walkie-talkie, the questions multiply in my head, and the conversation m 'an iced sung. They speak Arabic and I understand them, I am Algerian and the Moroccans have the same language with a few words, except that he does not know it, Saïd said to his interlocutor while speaking Arabic "it is not them, it is not them is not the right first name "the interlocutor asks him if he is sure and Saïd tells him that" yes, she told us the first name marc "the interlocutor says" he saw your face, we will have to 'we get rid of him anyway' and gives him an address to follow. I am frozen, I look at my brother, who still does not move, I try to find a solution to get out of this situation, I try to keep my calm. Saïd tells me not to take the planned exit but the next time he tells me it will be easier. So I followed this instruction, if I had refused he would surely have suspected something, we exceeded the planned exit, 2 minutes passed, it was the two most minutes of my life, I see a vehicle that appears to belong to or a certain police brigade, it is necessary Let them know I'm in danger, but how do I tell them? I decide to put myself at their level but Saïd says I mustn't. I am trapped, I am 5 meters away, I decide to make a single call of the headlight to attract their attention and that they see the windshield totally break so that they stop me, Saïd raises the tone and I say to be careful and not to start over, but it's too late, they signal me to stop, I stop, Saïd tells me "it's not over" and runs away from the car. They were gendarmes, I go to them in panic, and explain the situation as best I can in Arabic. They call an ambulance which arrives quickly, my brother is brought to the hospital, and he is immediately transferred to France to the Toulon military hospital in which he will be plunged into an artificial coma for 3 weeks, his skull has been broken on the right side above his eye, he lost sight of the right eye, today everything is better, he regains his sight little by little and takes it back to life. Saïd has not been found but the man who threw the stone (6.4kg) was found and identified he is known for several beatings in an organized gang, he is serving a 40-year sentence, and the most shocking is yet to come, the woman who was the hostess was part of the coup, but she has disappeared. The inspector explained their way of working to me, the hostess spots people passing by the hotel and who are foreigners, when she asks where the car is, it is to transmit the license plate and that they can recognize the target, that's why she insisted that we take the road to Casablanca. They rob people, get rid of them and take their cars. However I explained the conversation between Said and the man who threw the stone, when he told him "it's not them it's not them it's not the right name" The inspector told me that we were very lucky then and that he could not explain the situation to me on that. But surely he knew the reasons. I decided to do some research on my own, and there have already been stories like this where families with infants were attacked, and only infants disappear. In the end, I think they were wrong because when the hostess asked us what time we were going to leave I said we were leaving around 5pm but we only left the hotel at 5pm, we got on the road at 10pm, they had our license plate but not the people they expected, and the group of criminals were probably expecting other people than us.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jk95ua/a_dangerous_man_in_my_car/

LetsNotMeet

KANEOMANE

Mom that’s not a baby

Me and my mother were driving through our small town in South West Virginia, my mother and father are divorced, and he lived in Tennessee (which is relevant to a story I’ve posted before, not necessarily to this one) anyways, they had very different viewpoints on helping out hitchhikers as my dad was very much into hiking, camping, etc., but, there was a woman walking down the road mind you it’s very hot outside it’s the summer time and I noticed she was carrying a child swaddled up in a blanket, which struck me as a poor choice considering it was the middle of summer, just seems too warm for a swaddle. So, I said to mom “we really need to pick that woman up surely she isn’t far from where she needs to go but she has a baby” and to my surprise, my mom pulls into the gas station parking lot tells me to go in and get a large bottle of water and we will ask her if she would like a ride. So, we pull out of the gas station and approach the thin, almost sickly looking woman and she very quietly just grabbed the door handle and got inside, not saying anything at all not even a thank you which really didn’t sit right with me because this is the south, everyone is friendly and approachable (for the most part) so we ask where she’s needing to go and me being in the passenger seat I turn to look at her and she’s looking down at her “baby” and cooing at it, she replies without ever looking up from the swaddled being “about 2 miles past the Dollar General on Jeb Stuart” we were very close to that area. I decided to turn and speak to the woman and maybe get a conversation going, but as I get a better look at her “baby” it actually was a drywall hammer wrapped up in a blanket, inside another blanket. I froze, it was like I walked into a deep freezer, I told my mom that I really think we should stop because I hear what sounds like knocking and was very adamant, we needed to stop at the upcoming Dollar General. As we pull in, I told my mom to get out of the car that I needed her help locating the noise and we met each other at the hood of the car where I told her “mom that’s not a baby, she has a hammer in that blanket” to which my mother advised me that we should walk inside to “see if they had anything to help close that up” and told the woman we would be right back, we walked inside and told them to call the police so that they could help this woman that we could no longer have her in our vehicle and explained why, my mom gave her some vague reason as to why we couldn’t take her further and she got out of the vehicle very angrily but almost confused and we left her in the parking lot. She very well could’ve just been a really confused woman maybe with some mental issues, I don’t know what was going on with her but I do know that I don’t think she had good intentions for us. So, to the lady with the drywall hammer, let’s not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jk4sgh/mom_thats_not_a_baby/

LetsNotMeet

Fit-Weakness-2931

A man dressed as a clown snatched a toddler from my sisters arms...

So title says it all... here’s what’s happened.. We were on a family holiday abroad years ago I think I was 14 at the time.. my sisters 16 at the time and the toddler was our cousin she was about maybe 2 years old maybe a bit older... So we headed out during the evening to have dinner and just after that we’ll walk through the towns and maybe stop at a few bars for drinks... As we were walking through this town a man who was I’ll say badly dressed as a clown approached my sister.. Bare in mind my sister is afraid of clowns no matter how good or badly dressed they are... she was carrying our cousin on her hip and the clown looked at our cousin and said hello to her making her laugh as clowns do... my sister on the other hand just froze... I was standing by watching this happening kinda laughing at the fact my sister was crapping herself (I was a savage sister!) And next thing without asking or anything he takes my cousin from my sister and then of course I thought woah! Hey! I shouted over to my parents and my aunt and uncle... My dad comes over and says “hey what do you think you’re doing with my niece as he was trying to get her back out of his arms but when he tried to get her the clown would just turn away or push my dad back.. The clown says “I thought you would like a take a photo.... do you not want to take a photo??” My aunt comes over but scared out of her mind thinking that clowns trying to kidnap her daughter... We all just gather round the clown trying to pry my cousin from this clowns arms but every time he just kept pulling away or pushing us back... Then next thing my dad had enough he approached the clown and said “let go of my niece right now” grabbing him by the neck In the end he put her down and my dad picks her up and hands her to his sister in law... Then the guy just casually says “oh okay too bad you don’t want to take a photo” and hands my cousin a lollipop... We just headed back to the hotel and kinda thought nothing of it but the next day we saw him again as we were at a restaurant this time he took someone else’s kid like away from the parents into some room my dad spotted him as he cane out the toilets and stopped him thinking he grabbed my cousin again but it was someone else... but he headed back to the table... and ate his dinner but then for a second he felt something wasn’t right so he went back to the clowns room... I didn’t know what went down when he went back but he came back out holding this other kids hand and asked her where her parents were assuming they were in the same restaurant but nope they weren’t They were at some other place... my dad took the kid back to her parents and said don’t let that clown anywhere near your kids... and told them what he tried to do with my cousin I was kinda freaked out thinking this clown was probably a pedophile

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jk3vaa/a_man_dressed_as_a_clown_snatched_a_toddler_from/

LetsNotMeet

iiS4R4HxXx

The Man in the White Probe

This story is a tad lengthy, but I’ll try to make it as short and sweet as possible. This incident happened when I was 14 yrs old I’m now 23. My dad was at the time a white water raft guide and would often be out of town during peak seasons leaving me, my older sister of 7 years, and my step mother at our home nestled in front of the Cherokee National Forest in East Tennessee. It was later in the evening of a Friday night and me and my sister decided we wanted to go get Subway before they closed, so we asked our step mom and she said sure, so, my sister and I get in the car and head to Subway which was only a couple miles away. As we pull out from a stop sign at an intersection, I notice a car get behind us, not unusual just that we lived in a sleepy small town so maybe I knew them? Anyways, didn’t think about it. We arrive at Subway which is in a shabby shopping center where an old Whites Grocery store that was right beside of the restaurant, it’s dark at this point and the car pulls into the dark, unlit parking lot where a lot of local high schoolers hung out, I quickly thought it was just another teen hanging out. I was wrong. We finish our order and leave with our food in our hands and I notice the cars headlights flick on as we’re opening our car doors, I then mentioned it to my sister and she shrugged it off, so we drove away from Subway to the exit of the parking lot and the unknown driver of this white Ford Probe floored it across the parking lot running over the curb to keep behind us, this definitely scared my older sister. There’s multiple ways to get to our house, so we took the more intricate and confusing way to someone who doesn’t know where they’re going, we were scared and just wanted to get home, the vehicle kept up with us until a few turns before our neighborhood. As I mentioned before, we lived on top of a hill and the forest was behind us but in front of us were three streets, forming a valley like structure. We get closer to our house and since we lost the follower we figured we were being paranoid. We get into our driveway and walk inside and kind of jokingly tell our story to our stepmom, and in the midst of this story, we see headlights from a car in front of our house, my sister looks out the window...it’s the White Probe. We’re scared at this point cause this person either was very aware of where we lived or was a neighbor we weren’t aware of. They sit outside our house for what seems like a really long time and before my stepmom gets her phone to call my father to ask if he would have any idea as to who this was, they drive off. Odd right? We sit and eat our food, uncomfortable, but trying to shrug it off, we see the old vehicle outside again..and 4 more times later my father was called. He wasnt sure who it was but assured us we were okay that we had firearms in the house and we lived in a safe neighborhood that’s all he could do through a phone call and in Florida, maybe it was someone who was lost? Or thought they knew my sister? We didn’t know. My stepmom has to work the next day and since it was the weekend, me and my sister slept in late. We woke up around 11am and decided to play some video games. Shortly after we started playing, there’s a knock on our front door. Nobody should be knocking. We don’t answer. It keeps going and is getting harder, now from our living room you could see into the kitchen, my dad being a nature lover, had built a ceiling to floor window in the kitchen to sip coffee and watch nature...this is important. The knocking subsides and my sister is trying to find her Motorola flip phone to call our step mom and police. As she’s doing that we both see this man peering inside our large kitchen window and as we make eye contact he turns and walks up the hill into the National Forest. The police arrive several minutes later and so does our stepmom who was also beside herself, the police ask if we knew who this could possibly be and why whoever this was would’ve left a note on our door. “A note on our door?” I thought...till we are reading the poorly written note that was written on a torn corner of a piece of sticky pad paper that read “I wasn’t planning on hurting anyone” we told the officers what happened and that he went up the hill into the forest so they did a quick scan and said they didn’t see anyone and that we really just need to keep everything locked up for awhile, be vigilant, and if we experienced this again to give them a call...we moved shortly thereafter this event for other reasons, but.. To the man driving the white Ford Probe...lets not meet.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jjigir/the_man_in_the_white_probe/

LetsNotMeet

Fit-Weakness-2931

Chased by two dudes in a car and an old man in the bushes

It happened to me a few months ago, and until this day, I don't have any clue of what could have happened to me that night. We were 17. My two friends and I went for a week to my country house, and since we can't drive, my dad dropped us there on Monday and would come to pick us back at the end of the week. So the days went by, and everything went very well, we had a lot of fun, and one of my two friends went back to town one day before me and my friend Maeva (my name is Marie) since she had to work the day after. So the last day, we were just two. At like 9 pm, we decided to make a campfire while it was still clear and go back inside to play some games and drink, you know since it was our last day. That night my dad was coming back later at night, so he could enjoy his morning in the country instead of doing a one-shot 4 hours ride the next day. At 11 pm, my dad arrived, and we were pretty drunk, so we went to our campfire not to disturb anybody since we were a little loud. At midnight, I proposed Maeva to take a walk to get some fresh air, listening to some music since we had a lot of energy. You need to know that I know this place by heart and go there since I was born, and nothing ever happened to me. My dad always goes there for a walk late at night on his own or with his friends to look at the stars. There is a like 10 min walk that forms an L where you are on a rocky little road surrounded by forest and houses times to times. Usually, I would have been too scared to go where there is no light, but I was drunk and wasn't thinking straight. So we started walking and arrived at the intersection of the street, where there was light. We stopped and put some music on as we saw at the end of the road. Where there is the highway, there was another light. We decided to walk further to finish our ride. When we arrived, we thought it was so cool, there was nobody on the highway since it was 1 am, and we stopped a second to dance and take a video. I then put my speaker on the ground. Two minutes later, we saw the light coming, and at that moment, I realized that something wrong was going on and that I should' t be there at that time. That something would probably happen. If you think about it, we were two teenage girls standing on the highway at 1 am. A blue sport car turned on the rocky road, and we were standing there. I realized that the windows were tinted, and we couldn't see inside. The car passed by us and stopped as they started making sound with the car's engine, as to scare or impress us, hard to say. I then realized we were doomed entirely. The only way back was the road, which was blocked by these guys. We were pedestrian versus a car, so I yelled at my friend to run without even wanting to know what would happen. We went on the edge of the highway, where there is a counterfoil, and I planned to run a little, lay in the grass and wait until they were gone. As I ran, I saw the car going away and then making a u-turn, but they were too far to see which way we went, so they came back to where we were, stopped, and took a left on the little road (which lead to nowhere) where we were standing when they arrived (so if we had stayed there they would have caught us). We were hiding in the bushes on the side of the road, and we couldn't see anything. My music was still playing on my speaker, and I was about to call my dad to come and pick us when I realized a voice was talking to us. At first, I thought it was the music. But then, my friend asked who was talking, and I stopped the music. I then realized a man was standing right beside me, in a fucking bush, by the highway, talking to us, telling us to calm down hand saying like «come here girls, it ok come here.» It was pitch black, and we couldn't see, not even his face. I yelled and stating running to the first propriety after the highway and run into a fence. The man was still talking, and we were both in panic. I jumped over the fence and told my friend to follow cause she was drunk and petrified. We started running our life on a private ground which was wide open so the car AND the man could see us. As we ran, Maeva looked behind and realized the man was pointing a flashlight to us and was probably coming our way. We entered the forest, which was very dense and the branches were slapping our faces. I called my dad completely panicked, yelling at him that we were followed by a car and a weird man and to come to pick us. We never stopped running until I saw cars coming from the opposite way, and we exit the forest. It took like 30 seconds for my dad to arrive, and he was going full speed. He had no idea what was happening to us. He stopped and let us in. As soon we entered, my dad asked me who was following us, and we saw the blue car coming out of the forest coming our way. My dad then went their way and blocked them, flashing them to pull over. He went by their windows and lowered them, making them a sign to do the same. The window revealed young two guys and my dad started asking them if they were the ones who followed her daughter. They denied it. Then he told them not to mess with his children, and they left.  To this day, the thing that creeps me the most is the man who was hidden in the bush and we never saw the face. The fact that he was there means that he was looking at us from the start in obscurity, and he sounded old and creepy. I also d' don't know what the two guys were planning, but they were definitely not having good intentions.  A month later, I saw a car rolling in front of the house, the same blue car and making the same engine sound, and they came multiple times. One time, the window was down, and I recognized one of the men staring at my house. But I never heard of it again. If my dad had arrived the day after like he was supposed to do, I don't even know what could have possibly happened, and honestly, I don't want to know. I also want to say that Maeva peed herself when we heard the men and when we were running in the forest, she was yelling at me,« I think I peed myself! » But I was just panicked, I was also so drunk, and we didn't understand what was going on as I was running, I was just like breathing so fast and thought I was in a movie, and I was telling myself that I was about to die. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. We did not at the moment, but now we laugh about it. End.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jitkow/chased_by_two_dudes_in_a_car_and_an_old_man_in/

LetsNotMeet

maRie_d_

I don't know what he wanted from me but this could have easily gone 1000x worse than it did

As a quick note, I've never posted on this subreddit before and I wasn't sure if these posts were vetted or not and since this happened a few years ago I don't rally have any proof so I decided to post on r/nosleep. The post was removed from that subreddit for not following the guidelines and a friend suggested that I should post here since it is a true story. ​ I currently go to a large university in Philadelphia, and my school isn’t in the greatest part of the city. I’m a senior now and I’ve sort of learned to just keep my head down and most of the people in the area will leave me alone. The one exception that I’ve had to this was my freshman year. My roommate freshman year was an absolute madwoman, stealing my stuff, threatening to physically assault me, and spreading rumors about me. I generally tried to stay out of my room for the most part to just avoid any interaction with her until I was able to get a new roommate the next semester. As a result, I spent a lot of my time at the library or at other friends’ places. A few weeks into my first semester, I think it was around early October, I was hanging out at a friend’s place. He lived on the other side of campus, probably a 15 minute walk from my dorm room, but my path from my room to his dorm never left campus. I had been warned prior to moving into my dorm room that campus was the safest place for students because the locals generally stayed off campus unless they were grabbing food from a food truck. Keeping that in mind, I really didn’t mind walking back from my friend’s dorm room late at night since the path was well lit and the only people I saw were other students. Regardless, it was getting late and it was a weeknight so I told my friend that I was going to head out. He offered to walk me home but I declined saying I would be fine, which was my first mistake. The walk back was perfectly fine up until I got to the block that my dorm building was on. For context, there was another, empty dorm building on the block that I lived on. It was scheduled to be torn down later that year because there was black mold everywhere inside, but at the time it was still standing and there were absolutely no lights outside of it. There was a courtyard behind the building, which I used as a shortcut, which was my second mistake. As I entered the courtyard, I used my phone as a flashlight to kinda guide my way through the space. As I was nearing the other end of it, I heard someone call out “Miss!” Obviously, my first thought was “nope” and just kept walking pretending I didn’t hear anything and picked up my pace. *But* the voice called again “Wait, Miss!” At this point I was nearly out of the courtyard and there was some light coming from the windows of my dorm building so I could kinda see what was going on without completely relying on my flashlight. I turned around to see who had been calling out to me, which was my third mistake, and was met with a man. He looked so ordinary, except for his oddly wide smile and the fact that he was carrying a rather heavy looking trash bag. “Hey, Miss, I have something for you.” “Ah, Nah, I think I’m okay, I need to be getting home.” “No, I think you need this. Let me show you.” He opened the trash bag and reached his hand in. I didn’t know what to expect, so I bolted. I ran further from the courtyard and toward the ramp that led up to my building thinking I could out run him, but I was sorely mistaken. Despite the fact that there was about 10-15 feet between us, as soon as I turned his hand was around my wrist. “Miss, I have something for you. I really think you need it.” Feeling trapped and unsure what to do, I sighed, defeated. I hoped to God that someone would look out of their window and see what was going on or someone else would be walking back to the building at a late hour and see us. I wanted to scream, but I was scared that if I drew attention to us that he would do something that would make me really regret trying to get help, again not the greatest part of the city. He smiled at me, like he knew I wasn’t going to try and call out and let go of my wrist. I didn’t realize how tightly he was gripping me until he released it. He took a step back from me and reached back into the trash bag again. My heart was pounding and I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t what he pulled out of the bag. It was a clock. An old, digital alarm clock. The thing had to be at least 20 years old and it was encrusted with dirt, like he pulled it out of a junkyard. I was stunned at the sight of the yellow and orange plastic. After I realized that he was actually trying to give me the clock, I thought it might have been a bomb. “Here, this is just for you.” “Oh, I really don’t need one, I have a clock up in my room,” I said gesturing toward the massive building behind me. “This one’s different.” *What the fuck*. What’s that supposed to mean? “Ah, miss, see this one has a radio, pretty unique don’t you think? I bet yours doesn’t have a radio function,” he smiled. I mean, mine didn’t but don’t most alarm clocks have radios built into them? I took a step back from him, but as I stepped back he stepped closer, mirroring my movement. He reached out, presenting the clock to me. I took another step back. He took another one forward. I knew my back was literally going to be against the wall of the dorm building if I took another two steps back and wasn’t sure where to go. I felt like I had no choice but to go against everything my body was telling me not to do and accept the clock. I reached out and noticed that where he had grabbed my arm was already bruising. With my hand now outstretched he placed the clock in my hand. I felt so dirty having it in my hand, I don’t know how to describe it but I had instantly felt like I just finished rolling around in the dirt, my arm felt like it was throbbing and the clock was so *heavy*. It felt like it was getting heavier with every passing second. I knew it just felt like that because I was freaking out, but it didn't make the experience any less terrifying. I didn’t know what to do, the guy was still smiling at me. I blurted out “Thanks,” and spun around, gripping the clock. I took a step away from him toward the ramp leading up to my building and he took a step back. I decided that this was my chance to bolt for the door. I spun around on my heels and took another few steps before hearing “You’re so beautiful, I love you,” called out behind me. I turned back and the man was out of sight. I screamed. I didn’t know what I just got myself into but I didn’t want to be *any* part of it. I sprinted toward the door to the building, dumping the clock in the trash can outside on the way. I still thought that there was a decent chance that it was a bomb and if it was going to explode, I wanted it to do so in a contained space. Nothing came of the man, or the clock other than the bruise on my arm, it healed completely within a few days and soon after that I had sort of forgotten about the incident. I think I just repressed the memories and didn’t want to unpack what I went through. I still try not to think about it and the only reason I’m writing this now is because one of my current, not crazy roommates had brought it up a few days ago and the floodgates of my brain opened and I felt like I needed to share what happened.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jhez0p/i_dont_know_what_he_wanted_from_me_but_this_could/

LetsNotMeet

possessedchanel

6 guys jumped out on me and my friends

I am new to reddit but I'm pretty sure that my story fits in best on this page. Sorry if I made any mistakes I've never made a post on here before. This happened to me and my friends 20 years ago I am now a (38F). I live in Tennessee and we have a place here it's called Little Egypt it's a swimming hole me and my friends had been there a million times at night. It was the middle of summer and the county fair was in town me and my twin sister and 2 of our friends had went and hung out like teenagers do. We had ran into our mom, stepdad and little sister while we was at the fair and told our mom that we was going to Little Egypt to goof off as we had done alot that summer and I remember she specifically told me and my twin sister not to go down there that late because anything could happen. We was 18 at the time and of course you don't listen to your parents much at that age cause we told her she was crazy nothing would happen to us. We wait til around midnight and decide to go to the swimming hole it was me and my friend lisa in one car and my twin sister and our friend heather in another car. Now when you get to the swimming hole it is out in the woods probably about 10 minutes from any civilization and no where to turn around unless you go on up the road. We pull in and get out of our cars we are still standing pretty close to the cars because we hadn't gotten our flash lights and stuff we was going to take with us out yet. I start to walk towards the car my twin sister was standing at and all of a sudden we hear some sticks breaking I look at my sister and whispered did you hear that she whispered back yes maybe it was lisa messing with us we tell lisa to quit trying to scare us that it isn't funny she says I didn't do anything then all of a sudden you can hear alot of sticks breaking my sister and heather jump back in their car I ran to Lisa's car we barely jump in her car in time she has automatic seat belts it nearly broke my shoulder getting in so fast. I don't know how we got the cars turned around in that little space we had but we did there was 6 guys dressed in black head to toe with mask on that jumped out of the woods right were we was parked at with baseball bats chasing after us. About three days later we went back down there and there was police crime tape everywhere and some other people was there we asked what happened and they said some guy had gotten beat to death 3 nights ago the same night the 6 guys had jumped out on us. Thank god we got away that night. But my heart breaks for the guy that lost his life that night. (Edit: We did call the cops that night they told us that it was probably just some young kids messing with us. Some butthole got on here running his mouth saying oh you didn't call the cops it's your fault someone died. Like I told him I just hadn't put every single detail in there but that is why you can see me defending myself in the comments I blocked him so you can't see his comment. I went to his page he had like 78 comments and none of them was nice. But to the 6 guys that jumped out of the woods on us let's not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jh5zec/6_guys_jumped_out_on_me_and_my_friends/

LetsNotMeet

tracyv1981

What Happens When You Escape Death

I was crossing the road just outside of my house, when I died for the fourth time in my life. I have a habit of crossing the road without looking, so this time, that was my cause of death. That’s what I was told at the hospital, when I finally opened my eyes and saw Mary the nurse for the fourth time in the past year. She wasn’t the nicest person, but somehow I always ended up in her care, so now she was nodding her head in a disapproval that hurt more than I was expecting. Not as much as my broken hip though. This was such a normal thing for me, that it was almost turning into a habit. “What did they say?” I asked, hoping to get Mary to have some sympathy and lighten the mood. She shook her head. “Not much, only that you have about fifteen broken bones, including some ribs that you you’re lucky somehow didn’t puncture your lungs, and that you’re a lucky bastard that just won’t die” she shrugged. “Not for lack of trying.” Without giving me a chance to say anything, she slid my file into my bed’s pocket, turned her back and left the room. It’s not like I wanted to die, I was just lucky. Or unlucky, depending on the perspective. I’d had a fall from around a ten metre height from an electricity post at work, I had slipped into the strong current of a river that almost drowned me, I was hit in the head by a massive crow that just flew into my face. It was hours trying to get its beak out of my cheek bone. This time it was a car accident between the uber I was in and a Mercedes-Benz that tried to be my cause of death by almost taking half my body away. I was getting used to escaping death. This time though… something felt different. I was discharged from the hospital the next day, and I hadn’t noticed much difference in the long ceiling led lights in the hospital, but when I stepped outside with my wife by the arm, everything looked dimmer. The sun’s colour seemed to have died down slightly, all the colour around me just looked weaker, like the world I lived in was slowly fading away. I told myself this was me being tired and needing to go home and rest my broken bones, and kept the secret. When I got home, I had my now usual “coming back from the hospital” routine. I took a natural yoghurt out of the fridge, added some fruit and Nutella to it in a bowl and headed upstairs into bed with the help of my wife. Everyone knows that the hospital has beds, but no one manages to actually get a good night's sleep until you go back to your own bed. I ate my yoghurt, slid it along the bedside table and tried to take a nap until the kids were back to school. When I woke up some hours later, my bedroom curtains were shut and the light coming from outside was getting dimmer and dimmer. I saw it for the first time, when I tried to sit up straight. My bedroom door was halfway closed, and the light coming into the house was weak, even from outside the bedroom. I called for my wife, and got no response, so I assumed she went to get the kids from school, which allowed me to ask myself if the dim light coming from outside was because of the same thing I experienced earlier. As I sat there and let my thoughts run, something took a peak around the corner into my bedroom. It was a dark, thin shadow that looked like the head, neck, shoulders and hand of a person, only three times taller, enveloping the door frame on the top right side. I jumped backward in bed and slipped up until my back hit the headboard, my heart racing and my throat getting tighter. When the collision between my back and the headboard produced a loud “thunk”, the shadow seemed to quickly retreat from the bedroom and into the stairs landing. When it did, the lights became stronger and normal. For the rest of the day, from the time my wife came back home until it was actually time to go sleep, I wouldn’t let my wife be away from me. The shadow got me too scared, but not scared enough to talk. I had no idea what it was, or if it was coming back, and by the end of the day, I had convinced myself it had only been my imagination. I got better and went back to work, and for a while didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Not until I almost died again, at least. This time, it was raining hard, I had just come off work and was walking to my car. I crossed the road, and decided to jog the last few steps. When I stepped on the slippery sidewalk, my feet slid away from me and I went head-first into a newly planted tree. I opened my eyes, and the first thing I thought was that someone seemed to want me dead very badly. This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence anymore. The second thought I had was how alone I was. It was really dark, like the end of a cloudy day going into night time, and there was no one in the hospital room. Not my wife, my kids or my parents. Not even Mary! I looked around, and even the hospital seemed different. The curtains weren’t their usual colour of depression. Instead, they were just greyed out, and the same applied to the rest of the room. Outside of my room’s door, the rest of the hospital was the same, deserted and grey. I wasn’t sure how or if I was supposed to be able to walk around. I didn’t know the extent of my injuries, but I seemed fine. I called out for my family or someone, and got no response. I must have wandered around for hours without finding one single soul. Some of the hospital lights were flashing, and it was cold enough to feel like someone forgot the aircon on at five degrees Celsius and left for the night. I focused on the cold and my shivering body while I walked around, but suddenly, I froze. The lights were still flashing bright here and there, but at the end of the corridor, just far enough that I could see, something seemed to be peeking from behind the door frame. A recognizable thin set of head, neck, shoulders and hands seemed to be waiting for me on the other end, and I was starting to feel terrified. The more I remembered my latest accident and started to convince myself that someone wanted me dead, the more I was connecting that to whatever this was, and whatever this was seemed to be stuck in there with me somehow. I must say, having a murderous something be my only companion in this empty hospital was not the most comforting thing. I took two small steps back until I felt one of the arches’ frames behind me, but with every step I took the shadow seemed to come out of its hiding more, revealing a thin torso with no other features and long legs with no feet that didn’t move even when it slid towards me. After taking as many steps back as I could and wearing off the shock, I turned around and took off running, getting lost inside this dark hospital’s labyrinthic corridors. The more I ran, the more my breath seemed to run out, the flashes of light above me turning so strong that sometimes I couldn’t really see, but it wasn’t so much periodic, as it was random. Every time I looked back, there it was, a big shadow sliding after me as fast as I was running, moving its head from side to side like it was watching me with it’s non-existent face. Eventually, after running for what felt like eternity, I reached a dead end. Hospitals don’t have dead ends. Usually you’d see the end of a corridor with a room on each side, but not here. It’s like someone just cut the corridor in half. It’s like something just wanted me to finally die. Just like in a movie, I threw myself against the wall, tapping it with my hands like an opening was going to show up somewhere, but it didn’t. I turned my back against the wall and squeezed myself into it, almost hoping to float across it and escape miraculously. When I didn’t, the shadow covered my only exit completely, the dark mist floating closer and closer to me, until I opened my mouth to scream. As soon as my mouth opened, I felt a weird set of hands grab me by the inside of my chest and pull so hard it almost felt like my soul was about to be taken away. The shadow seemed to be farther now. I panted, grabbing my chest and panicking without any idea of what the hell was going on. Was that thing trying to kill me? As soon as this question made it to my brain, another massive yank came from inside me, wanting to turn my insides out, and again, the shadow seemed a little further and more agitated. At the third tug from inside, the hospital image seemed to turn into a gigantic white worm hole, moving at incomprehensible speeds while I looked around and tried to figure out what was next as the shadow seemed to swirl around further and further until it was completely gone. Now, I was back in my normal hospital room. From your point of view, you would have thought I was too lazy to open my eyes, but I was just scared. At first I opened my left eye and saw an empty side of the room filled with cold coloured lights and metallic utensils. Then I opened my right eye, and there was the team of doctors holding their breath, the one that looked like the main doctor holding two defib pads, one on each hand. That’s when I realised what the bright flashes of light I was seeing in the empty hospital were. I was told I had died for about 2 minutes during the emergency operation because of how bad my head trauma had been, and that they were starting to think that was it for me. Obviously, everyone knows me in that hospital. Because of the kind of injury, I spent the rest of the month in the hospital, just recovering and staying under surveillance. My family came to visit every day and brought me gifts and my wife almost forbade me from going outside because I kept trying to die, according to her. I told her I wasn’t trying to die, but at this point, she just wouldn’t believe me. When they finally left and the room was left empty, I took a deep breath and leaned back into the bed to try to get some sleep. I heard a loud clink that made my eyes shoot open, and saw the long lamp glass cover dislodge from the lamp frame and freefall towards my face. That was the 6th time I died. If I die again, I'm not sure if I'll be able to come back.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pe63v/what_happens_when_you_escape_death/

nosleep

FranciscoMP

My Son Has Disappeared And I've Found This Note On His Bed

My 10 year old son, Kyle, went to bed at his usual time this evening after a very normal day at school and a very normal evening meal together. The only thing different about today was that he'd mentioned a new friend. I naturally assumed he meant a kid from school, but I'm starting to reconsider, and I really wish that I'd asked him more questions about this, *"new friend."* It's just me and him, so every night, before I go to bed, roughly about midnight, I peek my head inside Kyle's room and double check that all is well. But tonight, all was not well. As I walked up the hallway, I swear I could hear a strange scratching noise. I poked my head inside and then stopped in my tracks as I realised his bed was empty. I flipped on the lights to find that his mirror was off the wall and was laying facedown on the floor, and his bedsheets where in complete disarray. But no Kyle. I was about to shout his name when I noticed a small piece of paper laying haphazardly on his bed. It was an old-looking piece of paper, thick and faded, and the writing style seemed ancient. It said the following:: ***** Disclosure: If you read this, you will become aware of *her* and be made vulnerable. If you wish to sleep soundly tonight, and for the rest of nights to come, I recommend that you do not continue. ***** *She* is not a woman. Honestly, I don't know what she is, but describing her as female is the best that I can do. She is the rising fear that lingers in the dark. She is the whisper that shivers through the wind. She is that ghostly feeling that's always behind you. She is the scream in your nightmares and the creature in your cupboard...and she is the terrifying and crushing weight of silence when you're terrified and alone. Now that you're aware of her, she will try and manifest into something that I still can't comprehend myself, or even put into words...but I can, however, tell you how to keep her out...or, at least try... Please remember the disclosure, there's no turning back now...she knows that you know about her. You must continue, and if you don't, well, I just have one final thing to say...May God be with you tonight. Okay, first of all, as much of a cliche as it is, check under the bed. If you find black hairs or black fibres, remove them immediately and burn them. No other method will work. Secondly, check the back of your bedroom door for black smudges, or what *may* look like fingerprints. If you find *anything*, wipe clean using hot water and a white cotton cloth. And finally, if there is a mirror in your room, be sure to take it down and sleep with the door closed...trust me... (Side note: if you have findings from both under the bed *and* on the door, **do not** sleep in that room tonight, even after removal.) Oh, and if at any point you hear scratching, then I'm really sorry...and it'll be best to just close your eyes... I honestly don't know what to do or who to turn to. I've checked the entire house...All I keep finding, is black hair... Please, help...

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16oy5bo/my_son_has_disappeared_and_ive_found_this_note_on/

nosleep

Waiting4MidMoon

Has anyone been stared at before? Please help

I’m hoping someone can help me figure out what’s happening. I (F, 24) live alone, I work from home 3 days a week, doing usual admin stuff. It was going fine until two days ago. I have a large window in my front room that looks out onto the street, it’s a quiet neighborhood so I usually sit with my blinds open. The light in my room is broken and besides, It helps to feel like I’m not alone if I can see people walking their dogs, and going about their day. Two days ago I was sitting on my couch, taking a break from work. The couch faces the window and I was scrolling on my phone when I noticed someone was staring at me. I froze, it felt like I was watching him for ages, but his expression didn't change. He didn't look put off by me noticing him. he was standing with his nose almost pressed to the window. his arms casually by his sides, just staring. His expression was neutral but his eyes were locked onto me. I looked back down at my phone, I couldn't move or look back up from it. I tried to slow my breathing as I pretended to answer a call and walk out of the room. I was terrified that my movement would make him move. I hunched down behind the wall and waited for the noise of someone trying to open the door, or knock on the window but nothing came. Eventually I got the strength to look again but he was gone. I immediately texted my friends, but they all agreed that he must’ve just been looking for someone and had the wrong house. They didn’t see the way he was looking at me though, it was a blank stare like he wasn’t really seeing me. I didn’t sleep at all that night, I was so terrified of him coming back, I had visions of him trying to break in. He didn't come back until the next day, which was yesterday. I was sitting at my desk in the same room, on a work call when I noticed him side-stepping from my front door to my window. I watched his eyes scan the room until he saw me. He had the same expressionless eyes and neutral face. I froze again, before slowly taking my laptop and walking out of the room. By the time I worked up the courage to look, he was gone. My friends don’t believe that it’s weird, they think he might need help or something but I’m terrified to approach him, or to ask him what he’s doing. A few minutes ago he stepped from my front door again and I can feel him staring at me as I type. I can't look at him, there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that's freaking me out. I’m walking out of the room now but please has anyone experienced this? Is he casing the house? What do I do?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pjgjx/has_anyone_been_stared_at_before_please_help/

nosleep

tollhotblond3

House of Sin

I’ve been through hell and back. To have your life consumed by a single self-destructive desire is something I don’t think I could ever adequately describe in words. I could only really touch upon the struggle to maintain some sense of self – of truly being present in the world. The list of harms it causes is almost endless, and not all of them are direct or obvious: some of the paths it can lead you down are, without being too dramatic, beyond your worst nightmares. One incident in my life comes reluctantly to mind – an incident so disturbing it leaves all my other transgressions in the shade. I blame myself because it’s the easier thing to do, strange as that sounds. Ordinarily, there’s the temptation to blame anyone or anything but yourself. However, to do that would in this case require believing in something so extraordinary, and so blood-curdling, that to keep my sanity intact I have no choice but to reject it, despite the evidence of my own eyes. And it’s for the sake of my sanity that I feel compelled to recount this incident. It happened eight years ago, when I was a man of thirty-one. I was at the lowest point of my life: not long out of a relationship that had ended bitterly, and having just lost my job of several years. Both my fault, of course. The job I’d had was in security, and essentially involved keeping watch at offices and factories, mostly at night when they were closed. It gave me a lot of thinking time, and my thoughts weren’t exactly full of positivity and optimism. Anyway, after I got fired by the agency for unprofessional behaviour, I was forced to advertise myself as an unofficial security guard online, taking whatever work I could get to pay my rent. This mostly involved being a doorman for private parties, or the ugly job of debt collection. This particular case was an exception. I’d been contacted by a woman living near a town called Nordville, about a hundred-and-fifty kilometres south of Atlanta, which is where I lived at the time. She needed someone to stay at her property overnight while she was away, to keep it safe from potential burglars. Not that she had had much trouble in the past, she said, but with it being so far from town she didn’t want to take any chances. It sounded like an easy enough job, and for the generous sum she was paying there was no way I could refuse. I emailed her all the documentation she asked for, and the deal was done. The date was April 14th, a warm and sunny day in Georgia as I made the three-hour journey in my station wagon, an hour of which was spent getting out of Atlanta. I tried to be optimistic in the face of tough times. It felt good to be leaving the city, even for just one night: away from my troubles and away from temptation. Or so I thought. I got to Nordville late in the afternoon and took the road west, as I’d been instructed. It wasn’t too long before I got to the house: an old, extravagant building, which I later found out had been built in the nineteenth century. It stood there completely alone, with no signs of other houses or civilization in sight; just green fields and trees beyond them, and the quiet road I had arrived on. I pulled up in the driveway and got out, taking a good look at the place. It’s hard to explain why, but as I did so I felt all the optimism and positivity I had generated over the course of the day die almost immediately. There was no logical cause for this feeling: it was one of those moments of utter irrationality. Nothing seemed unusual to the ordinary eye, but I had this sense of uneasiness that froze me to the spot. I felt that I’d have been better off not coming. I even considered getting back into my car and driving away, and to hell with the money. Of course, I didn’t do that; instead, I dragged myself reluctantly up the porch steps and rang the doorbell. A full minute passed without reply, but at no point did I consider pressing the doorbell again. I was almost hoping that I’d been given false information – that there was nobody home and the whole thing had been a mistake. There was another car in the driveway, which put a dent in my imaginings; and sure enough the door was eventually opened, dampening my relief. A homely woman of about sixty peered out suspiciously. I introduced myself and she immediately relaxed, opening the door wider to invite me in. She said she was Regina, the woman I’d been in contact with, and apologised for not answering the door sooner, explaining that she and her sister were still packing a few things upstairs. I assured her that was fine, and she abruptly motioned me into a long hallway and through the first door on the left, into a large, old-fashioned parlour-room. Sensing she was in a rush, I declined her offer of tea and cookies and told her I’d happily wait for her to finish packing. She gestured me to a sofa and busily made her way up the grand staircase, calling ahead to her sister to let her know I had arrived. I was too restless to sit, so once she was out of sight I surveyed my surroundings more closely. The room was sparsely furnished. The impression I had was that visitors weren’t a frequent occurrence, although considering the location that would hardly be revelatory if true. The highlight of the parlour was undoubtedly the large photo portrait that hung over the fireplace. A homely woman and stern-looking man stood stiffly looking into the camera, with two girls – presumably the sisters – standing awkwardly between them, all but confirming my suspicion that the house had been inherited. Ten minutes passed without any sign of Regina or her sister. Growing increasingly restless – a sensation I couldn’t quite seem to shake off – I decided to dip back into the long hallway and half-heartedly explore the ground floor. All but one of the doors were open, and I found myself peering into a drawing room, a dining room and, right at the end of the hall, a large and impressive kitchen. Not a bad inheritance, by any means. I could hear commotion from upstairs as I made my way back down the hallway: floorboards creaking and voices faintly humming. Realizing I had more time to explore, I stopped outside the one closed door and tested the knob. It turned easily and the door nudged slightly open. I poked my head in tentatively. Just a sitting room, sparsely furnished like the rest of the house: one sofa, a coffee table, a television set, and a drinks cabinet. I took a last glance down the hallway before stepping into the room. The dim light through the closed curtains lent the room a mysterious air. I was under the vague impression that it was rarely put to use: the only suggestion of recent occupancy might have been the walking-stick resting at the side of the sofa. Nonetheless, I stepped over to the drinks cabinet and casually opened the door. To my surprise there was a bottle of something in there, or rather half a bottle. Bourbon. One of my favourites. At least it used to be. Feeling a little unsettled all of a sudden, I turned to exit the room, only to be startled by the presence of Regina in the doorway. The look of concern on her face made me feel even more on edge. I apologised immediately for wandering around the house, but she just quickly beckoned me out without a word. It wasn’t until I was following her down the hallway that she spoke, politely informing me that rooms with closed doors were out of bounds. I said I understood completely, not wanting to press the matter any further. Back in the parlour room another elderly lady was waiting with a suitcase. Regina introduced her to me as her sister, Suzanna. She nodded her greeting sheepishly; perhaps she wasn’t too comfortable with unfamiliar guests. I could have told her it was no picnic for me either. I offered to carry the suitcase to the car. Suzanna, without a word, picked it up herself and made her way out of the room. Regina waved her hand dismissively, like I should just ignore her, and invited me upstairs to see the bedroom she had arranged for me. The staircase creaked as I followed her up. The banister looked like it needed some work. In fact, the whole house probably hadn’t been worked on for a good many years. My bedroom for the night was nice enough, at least. There was a sturdy-looking double bed, a chest of draws, a spacious wardrobe, and a wide window looking out to the front of the house. The bathroom was just next door, I was told, and all other rooms on this floor were not to be disturbed, except in the case of an emergency. I expressed my satisfaction, which seemed to please Regina, and within moments we were downstairs again, where she hurriedly went over a few things – keys, telephone, back door, etc. – before grabbing her coat and heading outside. Suzanna was already sitting in the passenger seat of the dull-blue sedan parked in the driveway, impatience etched on her face. I exchanged goodbyes with Regina on the porch, with assurances that her beautiful home would be well looked-after and that I wouldn’t dream of deviating from the ground rules. Satisfied, she got into the driver’s seat of the sedan and gave a wave before setting off in the late-afternoon sun. I stood there for a while longer, letting the warmth of the sun wash over me. The sense of uneasiness still lingered, but there was little I could do about it now. I had made a commitment and I was going to stick to it. My therapist would be proud. I took a deep breath and started my preparations, grabbing my overnight bag from the car and taking it to the bedroom to unpack, making sure to lock the front door of the house behind me. I then did my first full circuit of the house, with the exception of the ‘forbidden rooms’, and was satisfied that the place was secure. The kitchen would be my base for the evening. There was a small television on the counter, so I made myself as comfortable as I could at the kitchen table and watched whatever crap was on. I had the coffee on the pot and helped myself to a number of refills, as well as some bread and tuna from the cupboards. Regina’s homemade cookies made for a satisfying dessert; but mainly I stuck to coffee. Evening came, and with it a hazy twilight. As I stepped out through the back door to smoke a cigarette it felt almost like the house was bathed in an unfamiliar air. Time seemed to be passing with me outside of it – a sensation that I was no stranger to back in those days, if I’m being honest. I was aware of the silence. Not even a gentle breeze visited me on that spring evening, in that strange place. Back inside I whiled the hours away in the kitchen until my customary bedtime arrived. I poured out the last of the coffee in the sink, though by that point I’d lost track of the amount I had drunk. I did a final surveillance of the house, making sure all doors and windows were locked yet again. Finding nothing amiss, I began a last trip to the kitchen to get a bottle of water for my bedside, when my straightforward and dimple bedtime ritual became anything but. I didn’t know at the time why I stopped outside that closed door; but on reflection I guess it just shows how things can gnaw away at your mind. Whatever the reason, I found myself opening the door of the sitting room, as I had done earlier in the day, and once again slipping inside. The room was dark; I fumbled blindly for a moment before finding the light switch. The bulb was weak and the light it cast dim. There was the lonely-looking sofa, before the coffee table and television set, and beyond it the one other piece of furniture: the cabinet to which I’d been drawn the first time around, and which I was inevitably drawn to again. I opened its door. I can say now that what happened next was shameful, although in the broad scope of behaviour in those days it was a relatively minor dereliction of my professional duties. I took a tall glass and poured out half of the remaining liquid from the bottle of bourbon, figuring that as long as there was still some left it was unlikely to be missed. Mission accomplished, I tidied up the cabinet and exited the room, returning to the kitchen feeling a little less glum than when I’d left it. I was up for maybe another hour or so, sipping that well-matured bourbon. The crap on the TV seemed mildly more entertaining; my thoughts weren’t racing so much, and my body was a little less restless. I reasoned that this would put me in a better condition for bed: that it was a logical act undertaken to enhance my wellbeing. As I downed the last drop, the idea of going to bed wasn’t any more appealing than it had been before; nonetheless I mustered up as much resolve as I could and decided to call it a night. I finished up in the kitchen, passed through the hallway and into the dining room, – not stopping outside the closed door of the sitting room – climbed up the creaky steps, brushed my teeth and did my business in the bathroom, then went into the bedroom to prepare for bed. It was past midnight when I began my epic struggle for sleep, the caffeine and alcohol and stress and defeat all making for a heady mixture. I drifted in and out for God knows how long. Those moments of half-sleep brought images of people I know, places I’d been, some random memories – my father visited me; my ex-girlfriend; an old man with a walking-stick; even Regina and Suzanna made an appearance, the former with the same concerned expression she had worn earlier. Suffice to say, I had a hard time of it, tossing and turning until I gave up and got out of bed to use the bathroom, still half in a daze. After washing my face, I didn’t feel in the least bit confident about getting back to sleep. Deciding it wasn’t even worth attempting, I found myself heading back not to the bedroom, but to the top of the wide staircase, down those creaking steps, through the parlour room, and into the hallway just outside the sitting room. I was in automatic mode: a machine following a pre-determined course that had been programmed by years of repetition. Not that I had this self-awareness at the time. All I could think about in that moment was the warm, reassuring taste of hard liquor at the back of my throat. I stood in the dim light of the hallway for not more than two seconds, then opened the door and entered. The first thing that struck me was the ambience. Aside from the light creeping in from the hallway, I had expected the room to be cloaked in darkness; but a blue glare stopped me in my tracks. As my eyes adjusted, I became aware that the television in the corner of the room was switched on, the screen displaying static, and that this was the cause of the blue light. But it couldn’t explain the feeling of pure terror that had come over me. I barely had time to reason that the TV was faulty and had switched on by itself, when my gaze was immediately drawn to the sofa and to the true cause of my dread. There was a man sitting there. No . . . not just a man. He had the semblance of one: a tall, elderly man with a lean frame, a stern face, a crooked nose, and bulging eyes. But he was ghastly. From his pale skin and worn suit came this ghoulish light, like nothing I had ever seen before. He let off a stench that I’d been too stunned to notice at first: musty and pungent and rotting all at the same time. The eyes were the worst. They stared at the television, transfixed by the static; seeing something far beyond the surface of the screen. There were no irises: the black pupils were surrounded by a large span of spectral white. There was menace in those eyes. I had a vague sense of relief that they weren’t fixed on me – I can’t imagine how I would have felt if it was otherwise. I barely had time to register the half-full glass on the table before him. The sensation of horror had rooted me to the spot, but finding some morsel of courage I took a step back towards the door. The thing on the sofa stirred. His head began slowly turning in my direction, even as the rest of his body remained motionless. There was no way in hell I was going to wait for that deathly gaze to fall on me. I turned and walked trembling towards the door, resisting the urge to run in case it would goad him into action. I’d wait until I was out in the hallway to do that. The horrifying thought raced through my mind that the man, whatever he or it was, would somehow reach me before I had the chance to escape; though that defied all reason, considering his apparent age and frailty. I passed through the doorway and into the dim light of the hall. Before I could even begin to run, I froze to the spot. My worst fear had come true – he was standing right behind me! I didn’t need to see him to know it: I could feel the energy of that presence compelling my shoulders to stiffen and the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end; my skin prickled up with goosebumps and my legs trembled uncontrollably. Glancing at the wall on my right, I could see my own shadow. Behind it was another, tall and menacing. No living man could have moved so quickly, and I was certain in that moment that this was no living thing. When I saw the shadow’s arm rising towards me, I ran for my life. I fled down that dim hallway and into the parlour room, too afraid to risk the front door in case I couldn’t unlock it in time. I climbed frantically up the stairs, half-expecting to have my feet pulled from underneath me. Somehow I made it onto the landing and then into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. The room was dark, but I could see that there was no lock. I rushed to the chest of draws that stood a few feet away and began pushing them towards the door. Although it wasn’t heavy, the seconds it took to get it in place was agonizing – any moment I expected the door to swing open and to find myself face-to-face with pure horror. Mercifully I was spared that encounter. Once I was satisfied that the door was blocked, I fumbled for my clothes and shoes, then got dressed as swiftly as I could. I made sure to pocket my cell phone and car keys, before sitting on the bed to catch my breath. Aside from my heavy breathing and the pulsing in my ears, there was silence. Not a sound came from the hallway. That was only slightly encouraging: I hadn’t heard a sound downstairs either, not even of footsteps. I had the terrible thought that this entity might even be able to move through walls, among its other unnatural abilities. There was nothing I could do but wait and find out; wait in the hope that it had no interest in pursuing me further. The tension was close to unbearable. I can’t say how long I sat there watching the door: it could have been a minute or ten minutes, though it seemed like an eternity. I didn’t dare move for fear of making a sound. I just waited and waited. And then it happened. The door knob slowly turned. The sound of it pierced the darkness like a siren. My heart began racing once again, my body readying itself to struggle for survival. The door moved inward slightly, meeting resistance from the makeshift barricade, which budged ever so slightly from its position. That sense of dread seemed to seep into the room, accompanied by a nauseating smell. I didn’t wait long to spring into action. I jumped off the bed and ran to the window, pushing it wide open. It opened onto the back of the house. I surveyed the distance to the ground below, knowing that I risked breaking bones if I was forced to make the drop down. Nonetheless I had already decided this would be my course of action if it came down to it, so it was with resolve that I climbed out and knelt on the narrow windowsill. The door banged several times against the chest of draws, shifting it further inwards each time, while I readied myself in position and tried to find the courage to go through with the deed. I didn’t need it: fear was enough to propel me. The bedroom door finally swung open wide enough for a person to fit though the gap. The thought of seeing what would manifest there any second compelled me to leap off the sill and into the darkness below. I hit the ground with force. Pain tore through my body, and I lay there on the grass in a momentary state of shock. When I had the wits to assess the damage, I realized nothing had been broken: a twisted left ankle and some bruising on my hip was the worst I had suffered. I struggled to my feet as quickly as I could, grimacing through the pain, and then limped around the side of the house, all the way to the driveway at the front. My hands were shaking as I unlocked the car. As soon as I was inside I locked the doors, started the engine, and sped onto the road. Not once did I look back at the house, for fear of what I would see. Only when I was confident it would be out of sight did I check my mirrors. There was nothing on the road behind me. I had, God willing, escaped. I drove in the direction of Nordville. It wasn’t as far away from the house as I would have liked, buy my injuries needed to be tended to and the thought of being amongst other people afforded me some comfort. I was still shaken. I half-expected that an elderly, wicked-looking man would appear in the road in front of me or, worse still, in the back seat of my car. When I finally made it to town, relief washed over me. I checked into a motel, grateful for the company of the grumpy desk clerk, who barked his house rules at me monotonously. Once in my room, I made sure the window was locked and the curtains drawn, then set about bandaging my ankle with a pillow-case. The injury to my hip wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. I stayed up until the first light of dawn peeped through the curtains, then settled down for a couple of hours of fitful sleep. The next day I was faced with a dilemma: what the hell was I going to do now? I couldn’t think clearly – a feeling I was familiar with in those days, though not for such an extraordinary reason as this. The idea of going back to the house and pretending like nothing had happened entered my mind only briefly. Whether I had imagined what I saw or not, I was terrified of going anywhere near that place again, even in the cold light of day. Calling Regina to explain the situation was an option; but explain what? That I had seen a ghost? That I was going crazy? No, I chose the only option I could at that time and in that frame of mind: I got in my car and drove home to Atlanta, and that was all. If Regina wanted to call and complain, so be it. It’s not like she had paid me in advance, I reasoned. But she didn’t call. She had been due back that evening – no later than 7pm, she had said – and I waited up until midnight for a phone call or email that would, in a way, confirm that I had in fact hallucinated the events of those early-morning hours. To complicate matters even more, the next day I was shocked to find that the fee I’d agreed with Regina had been paid into my bank account. To this day I don’t know what it all means. Inexplicable as my experience was, I can’t rightly dismiss it as a cruel trick of the mind, though I’d give anything to be able to trivialize that haunting memory. As it is, I feel that I’m better now and continuing to get better, although the years have been tough. I was a different person then and I don’t feel the need to go back, either physically or mentally, to that house. In my mind it will forever remain home to the darkest period of my life.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pjcuk/house_of_sin/

nosleep

Donut_1982

I played a horror ghost hunting game IRL..

Let me begin by saying that I am an avid horror indulger. I like pretty much anything and everything scary, short of pure gore. My favorite movie has always been Paranormal Activity (the first one, not the crap storm that followed) and my favorite author is Stephen King and I spend a ridiculous amount of time playing horror computer games. It should then come as no surprise that I JUMPED at the occasion of being a tester for the new horror game pilot that came out last month. This was the first horror game ever created IRL (in real life), mimicking the new fad in computer games that I won’t name for copyright reasons, where you normally travel to a haunted house, find the ghost and exorcise it. God, I was so excited when I heard the news that such a game is happening. I put my name down last year and finally was selected to participate in the beta testing. I had two options, I could either participate with a group of strangers or I could bring my own friends, up to a maximum six players. Luckily for me, I have been in the horror scene for so long that I could muster up five more people who were as equally excited as I was. We spent a fortune getting to the location, as we were all out-of-state-rs, but c’est la vie, as the French say. We were all working adults with money to spend, and spend we did. I won’t bore you with the mundane details of our arrival, suffice it to say we all got on location timely. The plan was simple, get to the house, have a quick run-through guided by the game makers and then go play. We were booked for three hours of play, which the game makers estimated would mean a good two-three rounds. Now, for those familiar with aforementioned video games, feel free to just skim this next introductory bit, just to spot differences between computer and IRL play styles. For those of you who are completely clueless, I will try to explain the game in a way that won’t make your head spin. The purpose of this game is simple, simpler than on PC: find and identify the ghost type. No special quests, no extra tasks. There were six potential "aggressive” ghost types: spirit, demon, jinn, wraith, oni and mare, and Casper, the “friendly ghost”. There were also four types of equipment we were allowed to carry, to be used to find evidence: EMF readers, thermometers, sound recorders and cameras. Additionally, we were also given flashlights, lighters and walkie talkies. So, to recap the simple basics: **use tools to find evidence and identify the ghost**. The end. Upon arrival on location, we were presented with some forms to sign, waivers in case anything happened - it seemed sensible, the standard we are not responsible if you fall down the stairs and break your leg, blah blah; but we can sue you if you set the house on fire. Afterwards, we were escorted to the back of a big white van, parked right outside the house and which contained all the equipment, and each handed some material to read. *Firstly, information on the equipment, type and amount:* 2 x EMF Reader - counts as evidence only when the EMF meter indicates RED - henceforth known as RED EMF for evidence purposes. 2 x Thermometer - only counts as evidence when the temperatures go below zero - freezing temperatures for evidence purposes. 2 x Sound Recorder - record yourself asking your question and give the ghost a few seconds to reply. Then you play it back to yourself, and listen to see if the ghost said anything - SR for evidence purposes 2 x Camera - walk around with it turned on (NOT RECORDING) and spot any sort of ghost activity, this normally looks like a foggy gray humanoid-like appearance, only seen through the lens of the camera - ghost particle for evidence purposes. 6 x Flashlights - self explanatory. There are spares. 3 x Lighters - can be used to light the candles scattered throughout the house. 6 x Walkie Talkies - self explanatory. There are spares. For a fully immersive experience, we strongly advise you to leave your mobile phones in the van at the front entrance. *Next, very brief information about the ghosts:* **Spirit** \- wants to be seen and heard. Has a story to tell - can become aggressive in order to get others to listen to it. Evidence: ghost particles & SR **Demon** \- vile, hell-spawned creature that only wants to hurt people. Evidence: RED EMF & SR **Jinn** \- ghosts that have been tremendously hurt during their lives. Want to inflict the same pain to others. Evidence: RED EMF & ghost particles **Wraith** \- creature that feeds on the weak-minded. Evidence: RED EMF & freezing temperatures **Oni** \- evil creature that possesses exceptional strength. Can & will use items around the room to hurt others. Evidence: SR & freezing temperatures **Mare** \- malicious spirits that want to inflict emotional pain and fear. Evidence: ghost particles & freezing temperatures **CASPER**, the friendly ghost - just wants hugs. Evidence: ALL! *Finally, a list of rules:* 1. The round starts when everybody is in the house and you declare “Start Round”. The doors will lock behind you, so be sure to bring all items inside first, including the spare flashlights and walkie talkies. 2. The round ends when you have agreed upon the ghost type and you declare “Ghost type is \_\_\_\_”. If you do not agree on a ghost type, try to select by majority. Once you have declared the ghost type, the doors will unlock and you will be informed whether you were right or not. 3. Please vacate the house after each round for 15 minutes (not deducted from your time) to allow for the game makers to reset the house and prepare for the next round. 4. The ghost tends to haunt one room (or hallway). That is to say, the evidence produced will appear there. The ghost’s location does not change throughout a round but will change from one round to another. 5. You can all stick together, but it is advised to break into smaller groups to speed the process. 6. If you have angered the ghost, it will haunt you. During this time it can leave the room which it normally haunts and chase you. You are advised to hide. If it finds you, and lays a hand on you, you will be considered dead, and will be asked to leave the premises for the duration of the round (go upstairs and in the room marked UNDER CONSTRUCTION). A ghost haunt will stop by itself after 90 seconds or immediately if a player has died. That’s it! Have fun & enjoy being ghost hunters for the day. P.S. please do not try to fight the ghost and/or prank them. They are paid actors and will NOT actually harm you! Once we all got accustomed to the documentation, we were eager and ready to start. And there we were, the six of us just looking at the entrance door of the beautiful mansion stood in front of us. It was breath-taking, Victorian Gothic if I were to guess, three floors and a tower in the middle. All dark gray brick with a black roof, it was an impressive sight for sure, and there at dawn, under the purple sun, it was even a little spine-chilling. “All right, let’s not be chicken!”, Andrew barked as he opened the door. Based on his intonation, one would expect that he’d slam it right open, but I could tell he was nervous when instead he pushed it open slowly and walked in. Benjamin and Mark followed right after, which was surprising to me, as Benjamin was always a scaredy cat online. But maybe he wanted to impress his boyfriend, even if Mark and he had been together for quite some years. Then went Jennifer, and that I had expected, as the girl usually had a pair bigger than all of us put together. Afterwards, Angela, Benjamin’s sister, and myself. We were similar in the sense that we were both all bark and no bite. We entered into a long hallway. At the end of the hallway there were the stairs to what I could only assume was the second floor, and to the left and right of us, closed doors. “All right, shall we start then?”, Angela asked impatiently. “I think we should maybe take the game makers’ advice into consideration and do a quick reconnaissance tour?”, Jen ever so sensibly proposed. The suggestion was accepted unanimously, and we proceeded with opening every single door on the bottom floor. We found a large storage, a guest bathroom, and impressively immense living room, complete with a fire place, a piano, a beautiful satin three seater, then on the other side of the hallway, a Gothic dining room with black chairs and a black table, above which, straight and center, a candle candelabra and a somewhat rustic kitchen. We then went upstairs, where the narrow hallway at the top of the stairs was met with yet another, slightly larger horizontal hallway. Similarly to downstairs, each side of the hallway held quite some closed doors. We discovered a couple of bedrooms and the UNDER CONSTRUCTION room just opposite the stairs. On the side of the stairs, to it’s right, a kid’s room and a big bathroom, a bit ridiculous in my opinion, with a big tub straight in the middle of it, surrounded by one of those room separators you see in TV shows about kings and queens. To it’s left, a large unfurnished room, some moving boxes scattered around. We assumed the game makers did not have the funds to finish it, so they left it to look like the family who’d moved in there was just not done unpacking. Not uninspired. “All right, I guess now we can start”, Andrew noted after we’d all gone downstairs and into the van to grab all our equipment. “Right. START ROUND!”, I declared. “No need to yell, players. We have ears everywhere. We confirm the start of the round. As this is your first round, take your time, we grant you a grace period of 15 minutes before the ghost would even appear.”, we heard the game makers reply. “We will announce when the time is up.” We all stood in the hallway, poking at the equipment and trying to figure out how it all worked. Apart from the brief instructions in van, we didn’t have much to go on, and I myself, had never seen an EMF reader in real life before. Once we got the hang of which buttons to press, how to turn stuff on, and how to interpret the information on the equipment, Mark broke the silence. “We split up then? Three upstairs, three downstairs?” “That makes the most sense, seeing as we have two of each evidence equipment”, Jennifer agreed. “Then us three, upstairs?”, she gestured at Benjamin, herself and me, the three of us standing on one side of the hallway. “And you three, down here? And then we can mix up each round?” On our team’s side, I grabbed the EMF, Ben grabbed the camera and Jen picked up the thermometer, and each of us took a walkie talkie and a flashlight. I also grabbed a lighter and proceeded to light all the candles that I could see along the way. Unlike the online game, this house had no actual lights, or light generators or anything we could use to see but candles and our flashlights. “I doubt we’ll use this before we figure out the room”, she declared, grabbing the sound recorder and shoving it down her back pocket. As agreed, we headed up the stairs and began using our tools. We started on the right with the big bathroom and the kid’s room, and across the hall in the first bedroom. We weren’t quite sure what we were looking for, but we assumed it wouldn’t be all that different from the online games we’d played, so we had our eyes out for lower temperatures and slight EMF interference. “Fifteen minutes are up”, we heard the game makers announce, startling us. “Right, so now we’re fair game.”, Benjamin confirmed. I could sense some of the scaredy-cat behaviour behind his somewhat soft, whispered voice. “Better identify hiding places then.”, I said, more thinking out loud. As I would pass certain locations, like big wardrobes or beds with enough space underneath to hide, I’d make a mental note. Not long after the fifteen minute announcement, the guys from the other team walkie-talkied us. “I think we got the bastard”, Angela announced. “Got some cold air around this kitchen.” “On our way!”, I responded, as we made our way back downstairs. The kitchen was just at the bottom of the stairs, on the left. I am not sure whether it was because of the excitement of potentially facing the ghost soon, or because it truly was so, but I felt the room was much colder than the rest of the house. The thermometers were showing around 40FAHR, but that could not be, they were definitely controlled by the game makers somehow, but it did not feel like mid 60s anymore, either. Despite all six of us being crammed into the kitchen, there was an eerie quietness surrounding us. We were all listening, scared we’d miss something if we’d talk. The kitchen was rustic and not very fancy, mostly dark with fake black marble counter tops. As I was taking in everything around me, I noticed the slightest flicker reflecting in the black washstand right next to me. This, in turn, directed my gaze to the opposing wall, where a candle just appeared to have been blown out. “Did you see that?”, I whispered, but I did not have a chance to get a reply as more candles were being put out by an invisible force. We all held our breaths, almost in unison, but nothing else seemed to happen. After what seemed like a very long time, finally, Andrew spoke. “So, what do we have so far?”, he asked. “Well, no light.”, Mark replied facetiously. “I meant in term of evidence”, he countered, not being amused. The atmosphere was tense, unlike in the online game. We all felt a little off, a little unhinged. “We don’t have any evidence as far as I can tell”, Jen replied, as she moved across the room to relight the candles. I decided to help and pulled my own lighter out. I flicked it to ignite the spark and just as I moved it toward the candle, a light breeze blew it out again. This time I felt the cold wind on my fingers and it made me shriek. Then, remembering I was playing a horror game, I started laughing. That seemed to lighten the mood all around, as everybody joined in. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long, as an apparition seemed to come from the wall and stop an inch away from my face, yelling right before it disappeared again, making me drop my own flashlight and leaving me in complete darkness for a second. Grateful to my bladder for not failing me, I recollected and picked up my flashlight. The roar of laughter was even louder this time. “Fuck me, that was good”, Angela commented. “Yeah, cause you’re seeing it from over there”, Jen said from next to me. She was also laughing, but clearly the two of us were slightly more distraught. “I need a moment.”, I claimed, getting out of the kitchen and walking towards the exit. As I was trying to get out, I realized that we needed to end the round first, and I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s game, but I was feeling a little suffocated. You see, there are two types of reactions to danger - flight or fight. I was so far on the flight side that all I wanted in that very moment was to break a window and get out. Luckily, the moment passed quickly and I managed to compose myself. I was loving it and hating it at the same time, but I wanted to finish it, for myself but also for the others. “You good?”, Andrew asked from the kitchen door. I could barely see him from his flashlight, at times. Then I realized, his flashlight was flickering. In the online game that meant the ghost was haunting. “HIDE!”, I yelled as I bolted towards the storage room next to the entrance. I wasn’t sure if they realized it too or not, but I threw myself behind a stack of big shelves and started counting down from 90. I hadn’t made it past 30 when I could hear the game makers announce. “Please make your way to the UNDER CONSTRUCTION room now”, and I realized someone died. Ironically, this made me feel better. It made it all seem like a game, the announcement, the fake death, it removed some of the tightness I was feeling in my chest, and I returned to the kitchen. “So Mark bit the dust”, Andrew informed me as I entered. “We couldn’t really get out of the kitchen, as the ghost bolted out of that cabinet over there and it just went for the first person in it’s way.” “But look, we have 28 degrees now!”, Angela exclaimed. “So, we have freezing temps, and we know it’s not the friendly ghost, as it definitely did NOT hug Mark”, she added giggling. “So that means it could be a wraith, oni or mare”, Benjamin interjected, checking his info package. Most of us left ours in the van, I was grateful that Benjamin was generally an overly prepared know-it-all right now. “I don’t get any significant EMF”, I added, looking down at it. Although just as I said that, my EMF went absolutely crazy. It wasn’t a steady red, it was all over the place, from red to 0 back to red. “Wait, does this count?” I asked, fighting the urge to throw the EMF across the room. “I think it does.”, Jen confirmed. “That’d be a wraith then”, Benjamin said. “Great, shall we give the game makers our answer then, and go again?”, I asked, excited by the prospect of some fresh air. “Aye. Ghost Type is Wraith”, Andrew confirmed. “You are correct, ghost hunters.”, came the voice of the game makers. “Please grab all your equipment and vacate the house which should now be unlocked. Return in 15 minutes.” We started grabbing all our things as Mark joined us from upstairs, and we all left, sharing impressions and feelings. The second round went a little bit better in the sense that the ghost was in the living room, and it was Casper. So we all gave him a big hug and vacated again for 15 minutes. All in all, we had about an hour and 20 minutes left, enough for a game, maybe even two. “Start game”, Andrew said. “You three, down, us three up.”, he said separating us into two teams. It was Jen, him and me upstairs and the other three on the ground floor. This was now our third round, and we had become comfortable with the house and the equipment so the initial set up was fast and smooth. While the first two rounds had been pretty straightforward when it came to evidence, we quickly learned that it was not the case now. “I think I have EMF 5 here!”, Angela walkie-talkied us from downstairs. “All right, we’re on our way down”, I replied while Andrew and myself headed for the stairs. Jen was in the farthest room of the house so she was lagging behind. “I think it’s in the kitchen again”, Angela said, meeting us at the bottom of the stairs. “Hang on guys”, came Jen’s voice through the walkie talkie. “I’m getting freezing temps in this empty bedroom. I think at least.” Andrew took out his own EMF and sure enough, it was a high response, but it was not a clear five. “I think the evidence is not as straightforward anymore”, he concluded. “Best make sure we get it right.” “All right, from the top then!”, I said, going back upstairs. “Jen’s in the empty room on the left, so you check the bathroom and bedroom on the right, and I’ll go across from you in the first bedroom, OK?”, Andrew said to me as soon as we had reached the second floor again. “That way we cover most ground, then we regroup and switch tools.” I nodded and followed instructions. I was manning a camera with infrared, looking for ghost particles, so my flashlight was a mere hindrance. As I entered the bathroom, something seemed off however. The shower atop the bathtub, the one awkwardly placed in the middle of the room and partly concealed by a room divider seemed to be running. “Guys, I think it’s here!”, I ran out of the room and yelled down the hall, forgetting about the walkie talkie in my excitement. I went back into the bathroom ignoring all my survivor’s instincts, camera held towards the bathtub. I couldn’t quite make out what was happening through the little camera screen, so I decided to put it down and fumbled for my flashlight. As I turned it on, I heard a loud splash coming from the bathtub. “What the..”, I said to myself, and I walked carefully a little closer. Then I saw it, a leg. A fully dressed, wet leg was coming out of the water. To my initial relief, and then immediate panic, the leg was attached to a man. The dude, absolutely huge in appearance, was rising from the tub, completely soaked. I froze, felt like I couldn’t move a muscle. He was immense, wore what looked like black leather pants and a simple white t-shirt, which, wet, clung to his skin. He had long, messy black hair. “Who are you?”, I asked, but nobody replied. The man, now completely upright, bent over and grabbed something from behind the room divider. A chainsaw. He was now completely turned to me, holding the chainsaw with both hands, pulling out the starter rope. The chainsaw started revving, and the sound startled me out of my mental block. Shit, I thought to myself. This felt wrong, this was not part of the game, that did not look like a prop. A million thoughts ran through my head at the same time, all of them directing me towards the nearest exit, and not in a calm and orderly fashion. Instinctively, I threw my camera at him, startling him, and started to run towards the door. “GUYS, RUN, GET OUT!!”, I yelled “HELP!” But just as I started screaming, music started blasting through the speakers, muffling my voice. Nobody could hear me, the doors were probably still locked, I had to warn everyone and get out. I ran into Andrew right in the hallway and grabbed his hand. He looked startled. “Don’t think this is part of the game! Dude has a chainsaw in there!”, I said, dragging him towards the stairs. “You serious??”, he asked incredulously. “It’s locked! FUUUUCK!”, I yelled, realizing the door at the top of the stairs wouldn’t budge. “Yeah, I’m serious”, I confirmed, although I didn’t need to. As Andrew flashed his light behind us, we caught a glimpse of him walking slowly out of the bathroom, grinning. Sick fuck, he was enjoying this. “GUYS!”, I yelled as I ran into the unfurnished bedroom. But everybody was mesmerized by the music and the gimmicks, thinking it’s part of the game. “GUYS WE GOTTA GET OUT!”, I tried again, as I pushed a window open. Nobody was paying attention to me except for Andrew. They were into all their tools, which seemed to have gone crazy. I climbed out the window and Andrew followed me. I looked down, it was a long way, but it looked like there was a trash can right below, filled with leaves and grass. I hoped to God it would break my fall. “GUYS!”, I tried again, as the guy was now standing in the door frame. Jen looked at me, not completely understanding what I was doing halfway out the window. By the time realization hit her, the guy’s chainsaw was halfway through Benjamin. I didn’t stick around, I couldn’t. I jumped. Andrew followed. We both made it out OK, but no one else managed to follow. We made a run for our phones which were in van outside. “911 what is your emergency?” I tried my best to explain what was happening and then Andrew and I ran and hid behind some trees in the forest. After what seemed like an eternity, the guy came out of the house, through the front door, which was no longer locked. He looked around a couple of times, probably for us, but as he couldn’t spot us, he went to the van, closed the tailgate doors, got in and drove off. The police came about ten minutes later, followed by an ambulance. We ran to them and told them in more detailed what had happened. They went inside and confirmed that everybody was dead, including the game makers behind the UNDER CONSTRUCTION room. Andrew and I were asked to ride in the ambulance, because even though there was nothing physically wrong with us, they decided we needed to be monitored closely after such events. We didn’t comment. There was no trace of the man and his van, nobody knows if he was part of the crew or some other maniac, it didn’t matter. “Ghost type is massive murderer”, Andrew said from his bed in the ambulance before collapsing onto it. I laughed a sorrowful laugh and collapsed myself. If only I’d been more insistent in that bedroom, if only I didn’t find this stupid game in the first place. Grief overwhelmed me then and guilt overwhelms me to this day.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pgcqr/i_played_a_horror_ghost_hunting_game_irl/

nosleep

AndieA_Adams

Hellwalker Part 2: The Monster that Killed my Best Friend.

Part 1 (Lukas): [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16jp1vj/hellwalker/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16jp1vj/hellwalker/) ​ As mentioned in the previous post, some more things have occurred that I thought worthy of sharing so I’ll be discussing them in chronological order. I met up with Ellie at a café after I made that original post. It was a nice café near our campus. I placed an order for both of us for coffee and sandwiches and we sat on two darkwood chairs at an Oak table in the corner of the Cafe next to the window. She wore a brown long sleeve shirt and jeans and had her dark brown hair tied in a ponytail. She also had her silver catholic cross around her neck.Ellie looked outside the window at the plants the Cafe had placed, the sunlight making her green eyes sparkle more. If I was to be honest, this was almost like a dream come true. The girl I had been crushing on for months sitting right across from me where I am the first guy she’s dated in a while from what I’ve heard. If it weren’t for circumstances, I would’ve been more cheerful and energetic than a rabbit rather than having the melancholic expression I had on my face. “Out of all the days, God had to make this one beautiful . “ Ellie said. “What did you expect?” “Something more depressing, like a rainstorm.” We continued to engage in small talk, awkwardly dancing around the thing that brought us here. Hell, we continued to avoid it even when our food and drinks came. I broke the awkwardness when I asked “Ellie, what exactly happened?” She was silent for a moment before saying “Do you remember when Samatha asked me to do some ritual with her friend?” I said yes. “Around a month later on August 18th, Samatha and her friend Kyrsten , the occultist, were hanging out at her apartment. She said that she found through sources a way to release sealed spirits, and asked me for my silver cross. She made some kind of pentagram and she said something in Latin. I understood some of it and I think it roughly was some kind of chant along the lines of 'O spirit, awake and return to this world and escape your prison.’ Nothing happened for a little while until the power went out and back on.” “Did anything happen after the blackout?” “No, Samatha and Kyrsten thought it was just a dud and they teased me. I took my silver cross and left.” “That’s it?” I asked, hoping to get more information about the ritual.“ Yeah, not much more I can tell you. She didn’t really go into much depth and just told me to do some things.”“Damn it!” I muttered under my breath. “What is it?” “He’s going to kill us if we don’t do something and I don’t know about you but I’m not the type to lay down and die, not especially after what he did to Lukas.” “Lukas.” Ellie began sounding remorseful. “He was close with you, no?” I took a moment to think about my relationship with Lukas, and all the things we had done for each other ever since we met freshman year of college. “He wasn’t just my best friend, he was my brother. He taught me a lot about dating and socializing, helped me get on my feet when I got here, was always there when I needed help, and I was for him.” I looked at Ellie, and I could see she was trying so hard not to shed tears and was looking away. “I’m so sorry for Lukas.”. “Thank you.” I said, feeling consoled “To be honest, I’m not holding up well after I learned that he was dead. The only thing that’s been on my mind is preventing this from doing it to someone else.” Ellie calmed herself down before saying “How do you think we’re supposed to fight some angry Irishman from 400 years ago that may wait a second.” Ellie's face began to light up and the smile that attracted me to her began to quickly return as she radiated a hope that rubbed off on me. “My mom said that one of my ancestors was the one to seal the Hellwalker, so what if we, you know, find out how he sealed him?” I felt immediate hope before I was silently insulting myself for not thinking of that earlier. “Of course!” “I’m going to have to call my mom though.” Ellie's original joy and optimism quickly crumble upon this realization. “I can’t believe she’s going to be too thrilled about the fact that I unleashed a monster.” “Do you feel ok talking with your mom?” “ If I have to take a screaming fest from my mom, if it means we can stop this thing before he kills another person then I’ll do it. ” I admired Ellie's resolution before both of us got up and left. We walked to Ellie's dorm that happened to be nearby and before she entered her dorm I stopped and asked if she wanted me in the room as an emotional support in the likely case things got heated with her mom. “I’ll be fine but thank you.” she smiled at me before going into her room while I stood outside. The time she spent talking with her mother was around 12 minutes. Unexpectedly, the conversation wasn’t as strenuous or heated as I thought it was. Though I could hear through the walls what sounded like arguing, it wasn’t the heated or tense exchange I thought. However after the call was done, Ellie walked out of the room and looked like her soul had been crushed which immediately had me concerned . “Are you ok?” “My mom said she already knew about the Hellwalker being released after my dad told him about Lukas death. She told me she didn’t know how our ancestor sealed the Hellwalker. However my grandad apparently knows some people in Ireland who can help and he’s going to Ireland tomorrow. “ “When will he be back?” “At the earliest, three weeks.” “Damn it!” I banged the wall in frustration before taking a deep breath and calming down.“Did your mom suggest we do anything in the meantime?” “She suggested we start doing research on how to defend ourselves against the Hellwalker. She said she would try going through some old family books about spirits and demons to see if she would be of any help.” “So we’re on our own until then?” “Pretty much.” I signed in frustration but at the same time having some a new sense of direction. It wasn’t exactly hope but it was better than being lost and dreading being burned from the inside out. I talked with Ellie a little before we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways for the day.After we talked, we agreed to do research on what the Hellwalker was and how we can protect and hopefully end it. I went home, and since I took the day off, I spent the next few hours browsing the internet, writing down notes about possible ways to deal with the Hellwalker. It had the generic methods, salt, holy water, sliver, etc. While I was doing research, I noticed something extremely odd. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I put into the search bar, no matter what obscure paranormal board I searched, there was no mention of Ellie’s Hellwalker. The closest I got was some Irish folk spirits but none of them exactly fit the description of what I was looking for.I slammed my desk, frustrated that this little piece of shit that took my best friend, that supposedly terrorized Ireland, had no information on what he was or how to defeat him. Part of me was hoping for a solution, one quick fix that can wrap up this nightmare in a nice bow. Perhaps I was just living in fantasy land. “Jesus, I needed a cigarette” I thought to myself. I went up to go get a pack from my bedside drawer when something caught my attention. I had accidentally opened the top drawer instead of the bottom where I keep my cigarettes and I saw some pictures of my family. I picked them up and I began to smile when I focused on my little sister, Emily. I felt a sense of comfort wash over me when I remembered seeing her beautiful green eyes, her dark brown hair that our mom wrapped in a ponytail, her childlike innocence that lit up the room, and that beautiful smile that made all the worst of our days tolerable. “That smile that has been gone for a long time.” I thought. My expression devolved into a sour one as I began to get depressed when I remembered what had happened to her when I was entering high school. My dad was out driving her out to school however what should have been a normal drive followed by her sitting and being bored in class for 6 hours into a living hell. What happened was that there was a bad pothole that caused a pickup truck to swerve violently and collide with my dad’s Black sedan at 60 miles per hour.My sister died instantly, her beautiful face from what I dared remembered disfigured beyond belief. The worst part however was that I could see the look on her face. It was a mix of shock and confusion, the kind of expression I imagined a child in a warzone or a child who witnessed someone jumping to their death would have. She didn’t understand, she didn’t understand why her bright life was cut so short. Emily's death destroyed my family to say the least. The one driving the pickup truck was confined to a wheelchair for life while my father was the only one who made a full recovery. To be honest, I wish he didn’t and instead had died that day. I don’t say this because I hate my father but more so because I think him being dead would be a far better fate for him than him being alive. My father started drinking heavily after that, spending at least a third of his income on booze. He started getting into altercations with my mother and sometimes things got violent, with me being caught right in the middle. Not like my mom was innocent at all. She started smoking at first one cig a day before it was 2, 3 and then half a pack a day. She became a lot more cold towards me and seemed completely different from the warm and loving mother I spent most of my childhood with. She would curse my father, blaming him for Emily's death and saying that he should be dead, not her. Eventually my parents divorce with my mom gaining custody rights with my dad only allowed a monthly supervised visit but I could tell that the divorce broke both of them, especially my mother. Because of everything that happened between us, I haven’t contacted my parents for over 3 and half years ever since I left for college. I shed a few tears before I put the photos away before I got my cigs and smoked two of them, wishing Lukas was still here to smoke them with me. Not much really happened for a few days, I talked with Ellie about my findings and we concluded that until we get more definitive methods, we would just use the usual methods of dealing with spirits. I went out to a store and I bought multiple canisters, and began salting my doors and windows everyday. It was a pain in the ass to clean up and at the time I wasn’t sure if it would even work but that was preferable to getting burned from the inside out. As for things on Ellie's side, she asked me to come to the dorm because she wanted to discuss something. I drove there and I rang on her dorm bell to which she opened the door and let me in. I greeted her before I was immediately concerned by the look on her face, a mix of frustration, disgust, and sadness. I walked in and saw her room for the first time. She shared a dorm with Samatha. Her side was relatively plain with a Catholic Cross hung up above her bed and where she only had a desk and a few books. Samatha side was far more decorative with posters of bands, and TV shows. Her desk had a lava lamp and a small bookcase filled with romance novels.I sat down on her bed next to her and we began having a conversation. She confided a few days ago with one of her professors, Dr Richards who specialized in Irish history, about her Hellwalker story. of course leaving out the whole part of it being released She wanted to see if Richards knew any folklore or more information about the legend that she didn't know. She told her that he sadly didn’t have information but he said that her story was apparently fascinated by it and offered to help her write a paper about it and said that he would be open to discussing this topic with her at another meeting. Afterwards she was done explaining, she had the same look on her face and I still had the same feeling that she was holding something back. “Ellie, is everything alright?” I asked. She hesitated to speak for a moment, putting her hand over her mouth and visibly gagging in disgust. “I, I was supposed to have a meeting with Dr Richards today but when I walked to his office.” Ellie gagged again with me putting my hands on her back and stomach to help maintain her balance. “He was sleeping with a student.” “Excuse me what?” “He didn’t notice me, but I swear I just wanted to puke right there and then.” To say I was surprised was an understatement. Dr Richards was the kind of professor that everyone on campus, no matter your personality or work ethnic, loved. His classes were always so engaging that even slackers got off their asses to listen to his lectures. He was professional, kind, understanding, and truly what everyone's ideal professor would be or at the very least, that’s how he was on the surface. Hell I even had a semester schedule with him to get credit for my political science degree. “Wow, that must have been tough to see.” I said in what was admittedly a vain attempt to comfort her. “That, that lying filthy snake bastard! How many girls has he done this with? What did he want with me?” Ellie's face quickly morphed into an anger that I would have never imagined seeing from such a sweet, and beautiful girl such as her. “Ellie, I know you’re upset, but calm down and report it to the administration tomorrow.” “I know.” She said in a much calmer tone but it still had a sense of bitterness and vile disgust in it. “God will judge him so I don’t see much-” “Wait a second.” I said, stopping her. I stopped because I just had a sudden feeling rise up with me. It was a primal feeling, the kind one would feel if they were being watched by something not within their eyesight. The kind of feeling that a caveman would feel if he was being watched from behind by wolves. I felt the air around us grow cold and heavy as the cumbersome feeling that we were not alone began to ring on us.I checked Ellie's window and door, there was no salt. “What is it?” “You forgot to salt the doors.” Ellie's face went blank as I sensed that she too had the same feeling that we were being watched by some entity. We looked at the door, it gently opened from the inside as we saw it turn towards us, and then it closed, like someone was leaving the room. “Ellie, come with me now.” I said.”We need to go find Dr Richards right now.” Ellie got up without a word, understanding the situation completely as she grabbed her silver cross, and what looked to be a journal. Both of us were scared out of our lives and we understood that we were likely charging towards our deaths. But for our own reasons, we kept pushing forward. Both ran out of the room and sprinted towards my car. It was late with twilight outside as we got into the car and I stepped on the gas and moved as fast I could without getting pulled over. We reached the building Dr Richards was at. “Fuck the doors are opened.” I said, getting out of the car as fast as I could. I opened the trunk of my car, and pulled out a canister of salt. I intended to splash whatever the Hellwalker was with it. It was better than nothing, I slammed my trunk , and while carrying the canister, I sprinted up the concrete stairs and through the doors. “Ellie, which floor and room is he?” “Floor 1, room 584!” I didn’t need directions as shortly afterward, we heard the sounds of screaming. We followed them and in around ten seconds, we were outside his room.I saw through the window that inside was obscured by a black mist, as we heard more and more screaming. Ellie caught up to me and I motioned for her to do whatever she was going to do with her silver cross and journal. I tried opening the door but it was locked. “SHIT!” I yelled. Quickly thinking, I asked Ellie if she had a hair clip I could borrow to which she gave one to me. I molded it and began pick locking the door like how my dad had taught me. I got it opened, and as soon as I opened the door, the black mist dissipated as the room came into view. Books and pages littered the room along broken pieces of ceramic pots and dirt from the plants he had in the office. I looked at Dr Richards who was leaning up against his wooden desk flipped sideways , he was alive and conscious and was relatively unscathed with only his clothes somewhat torn with a few bruises.He then looked at me, no that’s not the right words, I don’t think he was looking right at me but rather just looking with a soulless expression. And then he started screaming the most ear piercing, horrific scream of terror I have ever heard in my life. “Holy Mother Mary, Pray for us sinners, handmaid of Lord, Pray for us sinners! Be it done unto me, at the hour of death, pray for us sinners so we may be spared from hell!” He kept screaming in broken, barely understandable phrases. He began wailing around like an animal and I eventually had to physically restrain him before ended up hurting himself. It was no easy feat but luckily I had some help from some of his co-workers who were in the building and also heard the screaming. The campus police came and while they were initially suspicious of me, Ellie explained the situation to them and I was out of trouble . Dr Richards was taken to a hospital where they concluded that he had a mental breakdown which caused him to have a violent fit and destroy the room but as I and Ellie know, the Hellwalker got to him first and we were too late to help him. Even now, I still feel a level of self hatred and anger for not doing anything to stop the thing that killed Lukas. I sat in my dorm contemplating the day's events, and then I looked over at Lukas bed. He was my roommate and that’s actually how we first met. Seeing his empty bed just both made me despair even more but paradoxically also bolstered my resolve . The silence ended when my phone began ringing. It was a number I had never seen before but my phone didn’t mark it as potential spam so I picked it up. “Hey, this is Andrew right?”I recognized the voice as Miguel, a member of the track team who Lukas was close friends with as well as me. Miguel and I ourselves weren’t close and only really interacted if Lukas invited us out for something. “Yeah it’s me Andrew what do you need?” “Andrew, do you know what happened to Lukas? Because from what I heard, I swear God almighty it, it sounds crazy but sounds like how that monster from Ellie's story killed his victims.”

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pl1ss/hellwalker_part_2_the_monster_that_killed_my_best/

nosleep

chadlake

The Ghosts That Haunted My Old Building

I saw the ghosts haunting my new place the very first night. By then it was too late of course. I had been through hell trying to find a place, I had already signed the lease, and this was the perfect spot, close to the hospital where I worked, affordable yet nice and newly-renovated. Anyway, I soon realised the ghosts wouldn’t harm me, indeed they seemed to have no interest in me, nor I in them. I worked hard, long shifts and I was usually dead on my feet by the time I got home, barely staying awake long enough to shovel some food down my throat before falling asleep on the couch, dragging myself bleary-eyed to bed a couple of hours later. A few shadows flitting here and there, a few whispers and groans were hardly going to bother me, I saw much worse at work. I guess it was weird that they all had broken necks. Every single one of them. The young boy who couldn’t have been more than fourteen. The pregnant girl. The good-looking tall man who looked like a young Paul Newman. Even with a broken neck, his head lying sideways on his shoulders, the charm of his bright blue eyes and his dashing smile shone. I wondered how many women had fallen at his feet when he flashed that smile at them when he was still alive, There were many more. They flitted around the corners of my apartment- I caught sight of them hanging around the elevators and stairwells, muttering and sighing. They vanished behind the shower curtain just as I would enter the bathroom and disappeared into the closet as I fell into bed. My first day off since I moved there was a brilliant sunny day, one of those perfect early fall days that are so much more beautiful than anything spring or summer can ever offer. I felt the fatigue of the week seeping out of my bones as I lounged in the kitchen, holding my coffee. Even the sight of the boy scurrying out of the window, his head perched awkwardly on his shoulder didn’t dampen my spirts. It did however pique my curiosity. Seriously, what was with the broken necks? I moved to the window and looked out into the morning sun. In the sunlight, I could clearly see a cluster of them on the fire escape landing. The fire escape stairs weaved its way down the back of the building, narrow black metal steps with a small landing on each floor. There must have been four of them huddled closely on the landing beneath mine. And then I noticed, they were not alone. My neighbour in the unit below me, a young woman with shining browny-yellow hair was seated with them. The only one of the group who was alive, her neck straight and unbroken, wearing fresh modern clothes. I had already realised the ghosts were all mostly dressed in grimy tatters, except of course for Paul Newman, who was sharply dressed in black. I had seen her few times already, enough to say “hi” and do that half-hearted smile and nod thing. She seemed like a smart, well-put-together young woman, with a nice long career ahead of her. But I guess there was no reason for her not to see the ghosts, much like I did. And more than that. It was evident by the relaxed way she was sitting with the on the landing, her legs dangling off the side, that she had already developed a relationship with them. The sight of her chatting away with the ghosts made me uneasy, in a way that just sighting the ghosts, their whispers and their sighs around the building never did. What on earth were they talking about in such an animated fashion? Innocently, I opened my own kitchen door and stepped out onto my landing. I could hear their voices, though low, quite clearly- even through the shouts of the children playing on the grassy area outside. “We won Charlie’s case!” I heard my living neighbour say. “Honestly, it’s a personal victory for me, I hope you appreciate that. His family are going to be comfortable now.” “Eeeee that’s nice Katie” said the pregnant girl. “Good for you. I was wondering where he’d got to, I missed seeing him all mopey and mangled up on the grounds, with his bloody yellow vest. He found peace then. Good job Katie!” I saw Katie smiling. “Yup- it was hard, and the company put up a brutal fight. But I did it!” “Good for him then! And you. But what does that get us, eh? We’re just still left here, aren’t we, like always!” cried the young boy, his eyes staring upwards at Katie. I looked at Katie’s earnest young face through the metal railings, full of pity and heartache for these wretched ghosts and I knew she wanted to help them find peace, too. I kept listening, and learning. The building was on the site of the old courthouse, and the stairwell was exactly where the city gallows stood. “It was Judge Wilson” Mary said. She was the pregnant girl. Mary had been hung for murdering her master who had slept with her. Her youthful beauty shone through despite her broken neck. They had said she had tricked the jail-warden into impregnating her to escape hanging, even though she was already pregnant when arrested. They said her bastard should die with her. Her master and his wife had made sure of it, not wanting any rivals for their own children around. She told the story as she must have done so many times before, the pain, anger, and bewilderment in her voice still fresh, untarnished by the passage of time. “I know the Wilson family”, said Katie, her voice clear through the shuffling mumbling ghost voices. “They own the development company which built this place- the company we sued for Charlie. Still city bigwigs.” “ ‘e was a cruel wicked man. It’s not right ‘is family prancin’ aboot town while we’re all stuck ‘ere, can’t move on becuz of ‘is wickedness.” This was Johnny, who would have turned fourteen the day after he was hung for being part of a notorious crime gang. The leader of the gang had struck a deal with the court and given up Johnny as part of the deal. The gang-leader’s descendants today were partners in the Wilson development company. Katie sighed. “It wasn’t just Judge Wilson- it was all corrupt!” They clustered around her, their sideways faces pleading. “Please Katie. Free us too.” The Paul Newman smile flashed crookedly “You’ll do it for me Katie, right? My blood ran cold. “Others might die. There are children here!” Katie protested. Mary cradled her belly. “And my child isn’t dead? There has to be blood.” I knew Katie would do what it was they were asking her to do. Even though I don’t remember making any movement or noise, I must have done, because suddenly all of them, Katie included, turned up, looking straight at me. Those terrible sideways faces and eyes the wrong way around, staring at me through the railings still haunt my nightmares. “e’s been listening to us!” cried out Mary. “maybe ‘e’s with the Wilsons! A spy!” said Johhny. I turned and without saying a word, I went inside. But I couldn’t stay. The walls of the apartment were bearing down on me, the whispers and sighs, so harmless before, were piercing my brain. I threw on a jacket and went outside to clear my head. I walked quickly through the children’s ball game on the grassy, reaching a secluded wooded area further out. I felt better, my heart rate slowing as I wandered among the trees, breathing deeply. And then I heard a footstep, a breaking twig. I turned around but it was too late. The last thing I saw was Katie, bearing down on me with a bat. A flash went off in my head and I tumbled down into darkness. \*\*\* I swam back to consciousness. My head was throbbing and white lights were drilling into me. A voice said “There he is! You may not think it now, but you were one of the lucky ones. Being in the hospital saved you.“ I concentrated. It was my colleague speaking, looking kindly down at me. “What happened?” I croaked. She gave me some water. “They found you unconscious in the woods, with head trauma. They picked up the person who will be charged with starting the fire- the police were over here, they think it’s the same person who attacked you.” I blinked. “What fire?” “Oh honey- of course- you wouldn’t know. Sorry I’ve been rushed off my feet. Burn victims in the corridors. I have to run. But your building - yes. It’s gone. One of your neighbours went apeshit and burned it down last night.” She left. \*\*\* I watched Katie’s trial. She calmly described how easy it had been to set the building on fire. The Wilson contractors had cheated on the insulating materials, and within ten minutes, the whole edifice was aflame. She showed no remorse. Twenty-five people died, several by throwing themselves and their children out off the windows on the higher floors. Not as many as had hung wrongfully, but enough to free their ghosts. For when I was able, I walked around the burnt ruins of the building. It was peaceful, with no signs of the ghosts.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pdieu/the_ghosts_that_haunted_my_old_building/

nosleep

1000andonenites

Never Stab a Reaper, They Don't Like It

Part 1: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l0wkh/a\_strange\_box\_came\_to\_my\_grandfathers\_house/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l0wkh/a_strange_box_came_to_my_grandfathers_house/) ​ \[Sunday Evening\] I'm still in the hospital. It’s been about 3 days since my original post and I am a bit concerned. The doctors said something was off with my bloodwork and wanted to keep me a bit longer. Run more tests. I’m sure it’s nothing but it’s still concerning. Grandpa’s death, monsters are real, and now this. A guy can’t get a break. Luckily, Josh still comes to see me. If not him. Nobody would. Sorry, I don’t mean to be so depressing. There’s a reason why I am posting again. Some nights I wake up in a sweat and swear there’s someone in the corner of my room. Standing there like it’s waiting for me to do something but when I do it’s gone. My first instinct after what happened before is to… Well, honestly, stab it and see if candy falls out. Tonight, I have a plan. I am gonna pretend to sleep so that I can jump it and hopefully figure out what it wants or what it is. I will tell you how it goes. ​ \[Monday, after 8:00 am\] ​ It went terribly. I was laying in bed for hours pretending to be asleep. Almost actually fell asleep. I didn’t but I saw it from the corner of my eye and pounced straight into a wall. Hurt like a bitch. Wasn’t all bad though at least Josh will visit today. ​ \[Monday, around 2:30 pm\] ​ “You’re an idiot”, Josh said. “A functional Idiot” I corrected him. “What’s functional about running into a wall to chase Casper?” “You sound like you don’t believe me. Do you gotta show you the knife thing again?” I outreached my empty hand and summoned the knife out of thin air. “Stop. You have shown me that 100 times by now. I get it but magical knives and dogmen are one thing. Ghosts? God honest ghosts?” he asked. I looked away to the window murmuring. “It’s not that unbelievable” “Alright.” He said, sounding dejected. “What’s the plan?” ​ \[Monday night, past 11:30\] ​ It’s surprising how empty hospitals can be. The bustle of nurses and doctors all but die down to a few select times or in case of emergencies. It was almost too easy to sneak Josh in after visiting hours He came toting in with a dark blue duffle bag slung over his shoulder. “You got the stuff?” I asked. A puff of air escaped his mouth as he let the duffle bag drop to the floor. “yeah. .. You sure this stuff is gonna work?” Unzipping the duffle bag. “pretty sure”. “How’d you know?” “I saw it online” Josh looked at me for a solid 10 seconds. “Excuse me?” I pulled out a couple canisters of salt, a pure iron crowbar, holy water, cruefix, and random bits and bobs of silver. “This should be enough.” We went back to my room and waited in darkness till... ​ \[Tuesday 12:03 am\] ​ Eyes like daggers staring into my back. It was enough to rip anyone from their slumber. My phone read 12:03 AM as I braced myself. "Hello" I turned to meet its gaze. Its eyes weren't visible in the shadows but I couldn't help feeling a coldness. A coldness that comes with death. "Now" I said. Josh sprung from the behind the curtain and threw the salt on the floor around it."Gotcha" The shadowy figure did nothing but stand there till it stepped forward on top of the salt. "Crowbar!" I shouted as he swung right through the spirit. It grabbed his shoulder and sent him flying against the door. "Fuck." grappling for the crucifix and holding it up."Stay!" The ends of the crucifix started to bend and snap off. Gripping the hilt of a knife lurching forward as the sound of wind slashed by a larger blade filled my ears. The clanging sound of metal on metal."What?" My knife is holding its ground to a scythe 10 times its size. The sparks flew as neither of us gave up an inch and that's when I saw it. A pair of blue eyes looking back at me. Human eyes. Eyes that were so gentle looking despite everything going on. She slammed me with the butt of the scythe into my ribs causing me to fall to the ground. The blade of the scythe was to my throat. She pulled off her hood revealing a woman my age with bright red headphones over her ears. Removing her headphones. "How did you see me?" "...What?" "Only the dead or on the edge of death can see me. You are neither." "So you're not here to kill me?" "No. Why would I do that?" A few seconds of silence passed till Josh came running up splashing a bottle of holy water on her face. Nothing happened except a silent passive aggressive anger directed Josh's way. "I don't think she's a ghost. Josh." "What is she then?" shrugging with the scythe still an inch to my throat. "Jenny." She said, "My name is Jenny." "Ok..." Josh said "Um, Jenny. Can you remove your scythe from my neck?" She pulled back. "Thank you." "Are you Death?” I asked her after getting back to my feet. “No no no, flattering really. I am just a reaper.” “Ok…” “Is he okay?” “Josh? Yeah. He’s just processing.” “Yeah…” “See, he’s fine.” I turned on the lights and gestured to the chairs by the window. She sat down by the window but Josh elected to stand. “So, Jenny” She looked up towards me.” Why are you here?” A slight confused grin. “Working. This is a hospital after all” Nodding. “So, why are you watching me?” She paused for a few seconds “You know…Just making my rounds.” “Umm hmm” “Hey!” Jenny said . “How can you guys see me?” “No idea. I have seen you everyday since I got here.” The look of realization hit her face. She pulled out a cellphone and then sloped her hands in her face. “Idiot Idiot” “What’s going on?” Josh said. With a deep breath she said “Nothing…I just forgot to turn on the filter.” Clicks a phone on her phone and vanishes. “Where’d she g…” She reappears in her seat. “Invisibility. Nice right?” "Very." I gave him a side glance. "What?" Smirking. "Nothing." "You two alright?" "Never Better." "Yeah, Never Better." We spoke for a bit longer before Jenny had to return to work. The casualness of all this was pretty humorful looking back at it. Almost like three friends having everyday conversations. ​ \[Tuesday 9:14 am\] ​ I woke up to my nurse and other hospital staff checking the dent in the door. "What happened?" I said. The staff wasn't sure what happened and I played dumb. Later on, I heard the hospital checked the security cams. Found nothing but constant static and couldn't verify anything. I had a feeling the hospital or more so my Doctor Sanchez felt sorry for me. He came to me one day and dropped a bombshell. My bloodwork doesn't look good and they're running more tests to find the problem but if it continues I will die. I'm gonna die.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16phdcj/never_stab_a_reaper_they_dont_like_it/

nosleep

Formal_Barnacle304

Do You Know These Men? - 1988 Transcript I Found At Work

I work for the Department of Defense in Philadelphia. It's what we call a "Dark Lab," which actually sounds more ominous than it is; it basically just means it isn't listed on Google Maps. Everyone has the general sense that what we do is for the government and, to some degree, secret, but nobody knows what exactly that is. Including me. It's funny how the military works: they need lab workers like me for their projects but they don't tell us what the work is for. Just the objective: find a virus that carries X gene. Make a strain of Y bacteria that's twice as infectious, three times as deadly. Don't ask questions. And normally I don't, but last night, I broke my own rules. The data entry system was down- three cheers for modern technology -so, with a sigh, I stepped back from the test tubes and doffed my gloves in the exit throughway. I left the lab without telling anyone, not planning to be gone longer than five minutes or so, and walked to the IT room, but our normal guy wasn't there. He seemed to have stepped out for a moment, and he left his computer on. Big no-no, of course, being a high clearance level facility, but we are scientists and tech people, not soldiers. I decided to try to find my data sheet on my own, being a millennial, a tech native, all that. I thought I was being proactive. "198." That's what I typed, or started to, in the hard drive's search bar, because my file on *Yersinia* bacteria is called "198 Y. pestis x pXO1." A mouthful, I know, and I was quickly distracted by the appearance of another, even more strangely named file: 1988 Feb. 13 - Incident 145 -**Red Joe**. Because I am bored, naturally curious, and an idiot, I clicked on it. Everything below this is word-for-word from the transcript that appeared when I opened the file. I took pictures on my phone. They have 24/7 recordings in the security room here- have since the place opened in 1970. Whenever there is an "incident" (usually an eco nut or reporter trying to break in), they save the recording instead of deleting it. Here is what they saved from February 13th, 1988: 02/13/1988 : 02:34:15 AM **Sergeant Andrew Leahy:** ...don't know though, man, my parents are real serious about that shit. Date a protestant girl and it's okay, sure, fine, but *marry* her? At the church they go to, they won't even consider marrying two people if they both aren't Catholic. **Sergeant Francis Loki:** Medieval. **Leahy:** Yeah okay, sure, but look at Ireland, man. They're blowing up cars out there. **Loki:** 'Cause they're medieval. Why you gotta get married in a church anyway? People get married on beaches now. **Leahy:** My parents would disown me. (Rustling noise, air conditioner turns on) **Loki:** Do you see that? **Leahy:** Where? **Loki:** Outside. That's...is that a guy? Out there? **Leahy:** I don't... \[**UNINTELLIGIBLE\]** ... is he walking? I can't tell what he's doing. **Loki:** People don't walk like that. **Leahy:** (chuckles) Don't say it like that, Frank. It's the night shift. **Loki:** *Look* at him. That's not how people walk. I mean it. What's he doing? **Leahy:** Probably just another nut job. I'll call - 02/13/1988 02:38:42 \[**FIVE SECOND PAUSE\]** **Leahy:** Is he...? Is he crawling? **Loki:** That's what I'm saying. He's not walking normal. **Leahy:** He's not walking at all. He's, like... *galloping.* \[Static Noise\] **Loki:** Center security to night patrol, this is Sergeant Frank Loki. Suspicious individual spotted on Lands Road headed for...uh, headed for us. Headed for Research Building 1. 02/13/1988 02:40:03 **Loki:** Hello? Night patrol? Come in. This is Sergeant Loki at center security. Suspicious person sighted on Lands Road. Please advise. \[Static noise, indistinct murmuring\] **Night Patrol:** Sergeant... read you ... this is Lieutenant \[**REDACTED**\] on night patrol. Can you ... \[**UNINTELLIGIBLE\]** for the... over. \[Static noise\] **Loki:** Hello? Lieutenant \[**REDACTED\]?** You're not clear, come again. **Leahy:** Frank, how's he moving so fast? **Loki:** I don't *know,* Andy. Hello? Hello! Night Patrol? Please come in. Suspicious individual headed for Research Building 1. I repeat: Suspicious individual. **Leahy:** He's almost at the front gate. **Loki:** How'd he get past the perimeter? **Leahy:** I don't know, but he's almost at the front gate. **Loki:** Well don't let him in. **Leahy:** Jesus Christ, he must be going 30 miles per hour. Crazy son of a bitch is gonna crash right into the gate and brain himself. **Loki:** What's he wearing? Zoom in there...yeah, there. Is that...? Is that one of our uniforms? **Leahy:** No, man, he's wearing some kind of a jump suit or something. Hey maybe he's, like, a head case. You know what I mean? There's a hospital down the road. **Loki:** No. That's one of ours. That's what they make the docs and the lab techs wear when they go to the slammer. **Leahy:** This guy's no doctor. **Loki:** That's what they all wear when they go to quarantine; I'm telling you. Last year? Dr. \[**REDACTED\]** got bit by one of the rats infected with **\[REDACTED\].** They sent him to the slammer for 21 days and he wore a freakin' jumpsuit just like that. **Leahy:** Slammer's up Lands Road that way. **Loki:** That's what I'm saying. \[Static noise, unintelligible voice\] **Loki:** Hello? Hello, night patrol? Do you copy? **Night Patrol:** Sergeant? Come in, this is night patrol 2, Captain \[**REDACTED\]** to center security. I have a visual on your intruder. Do not exit the building. I repeat, do *not* exit the building for any reason. Units are approaching the suspect now. Over. **Leahy:** ...the shit, man... **Loki:** They don't pay me enough for this. **Leahy:** Look, there he goes! There he goes right there; he stopped. **Loki:** That's the quarantine jumper, Andy, I'm *telling* you. **Leahy:** What the hell they got cooking in the labs that can make people run like that? **Loki:** What's wrong with his eyes? Why do they look like that? **Leahy:** His eyes are the least of my worries, man. Put on the radio. See what NP's doing. \[Rustling, crackling noise\] **Night Patrol Captain:** Units be advised, approach the suspect with extreme caution. If he comes within twenty feet of you, you are to shoot to kill. I repeat: shoot to kill. **Night Patrol 2:** Approaching suspect now. \[Faintly\] Sir! Put your hands where I can see them! You are... government property ... hands ... or we will shoot! **Leahy:** *Fuck,* man. **Loki:** Did he hear them? Why's he looking like that through the gate? He can't... he can't see us, right? **Night Patrol 2:** Sir! Put your hands up now and get on the ground! If you do not surrender yourself now, we *will* shoot you! \[Screeching sound, feedback on the radio\] **Leahy:** Oh! What the... **Loki:** Shit! **Night Patrol 2:** Open fire! \[Gunshots, metallic banging\] \[Snarl, unintelligible, guttural sound\] **Night Patrol 3:** No...fuck...oh my God...no! \[Scream, ripping noise\] **Night Patrol 2:** Jesus Christ! \[Gunshots\] **Night Patrol 2:** Get back! Get off him! Oh my...Captain! Captain, do you read me? Help us! **Night Patrol Captain:** This is night patrol to command, come in. This is Captain **\[REDACTED\]** on night patrol to DoD Command. Red Joe is breeched containment. Alert all Level 1 staff to evacuate immediately. I repeat: Red Joe has breeched containment. **Night Patrol 2:** Captain! Help me! Oh God, somebody help me! Help.... ah! ... no... \[**UNINTELLIGIBLE\]** **Leahy:** Oh my holy God. Is he \[**REDACTED\] ?** \[Screaming, banging, then silence\] **Loki:** Andy, we have to get out of here. **Leahy:** And go where? We're not Level 1 staff. That there's the only way I know out. Land's Road. **Loki:** I dunno. We have to...shit! **Leahy:** What the hell's he doing? **Loki:** There's no way he can get... **Leahy:** There's no way he can do any of the shit we just saw him do. Hit the alarm. **Loki:** I... **Leahy:** Hit the alarm, Frank! \[Smacking sound, blaring alarm\] **Loki:** The captain's not gonna help us. Oh God, nobody's gonna help us. **Leahy:** He's coming. Here, help me move this to the door and maybe we can... **\[**Banging noise, shattered glass, unintelligible yelling\] **Loki:** Oh shit! Oh shit, oh fuck! \[Guttural, deep laughter\] **Loki:** Stay away! Stay back, I... \[Unintelligible screaming\] **Leahy:** \[Whispering\] And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me. Hail Mary, full of grace... \[Snapping noise, grunt\] February 13th, 1988 : 03:11:33 \[Distant groaning, nearby whistling to the tune of "Blueberry Hill"\] \[Radio cuts out\]

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16oym1r/do_you_know_these_men_1988_transcript_i_found_at/

nosleep

meags_13

Trapped in the Dollar General Beyond pt 12- Hermits Journal

Pt 11- https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16j18u1/trapped_int_he_dollar_general_beyond_pt_11_in_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3 Well, the rain is still coming down, and I'm sitting here watching it fall. It's been a day since my last post, and I've been stuck here thanks to the burning rain. I've been enjoying your comments (sparingly, of course, since I don't want to kill my phone), but this morning I found something to occupy my time besides watching raindrops. I had completely forgotten about the other journal until today, but I found it again when I was looking for supplies in my bag. Somewhere between a bag of crushed chips and a honey bun, I found the smaller journal that I had found in the bag with Celene's journal. It was little more than a battered notebook and it looked like it had been through hell. I still had Celene's journal in the front pocket, I was still hoping to show it to Gale, but I had almost forgotten about this one. I didn't have much else to do, so I cracked it open and started reading. When I was done, I felt that the info was worth a little battery power to share. The journal is from Jasper, another victim/traveler through the Dollar General Beyond. Jasper, unlike the rest of us, wasn't looking for a way out. Jasper was looking for someone, someone I had read about before. Jasper was looking for his grandson, Jacob. January 10th, 1991 That date is just a guess, but it's the best guess I have. Jacob and I have been stuck inside this Dollar General Beyond for the last four days. It all began because I had to use the bathroom. Jacob didn't want to come with me, he was a big boy and too old to go to the bathroom with his pawpaw, but five years old isn't really a safe age to just leave him outside while I do my business. So, we stepped in and, to our surprise, stepped back out into another Dollar General. I thought I might be having a senior moment for a second, but when we turned around and walked back through the door, we were in a Dollar General again instead of a bathroom. We found the doors locked and couldn't get anyone to help us get out, so we made ourselves comfortable until they opened the next day. None of the food packages were in a language I could read, but the food eats okay, and we didn't imagine we would be there longer than a night. After four days, I have to believe we have slipped into some kind of Twilight Zone place. Jacob thought it was funny when I told him we were stuck here, but I've started noticing that the food doesn't replenish itself. Jacob is building models and coloring, but the more I observe, the more I'm worried that we might starve here. I keep hoping we will wake up and find that everything is back to normal, but the longer it goes on, the less hope I have that will happen. The story was a familiar one, at first. Jasper tested the place they were, looking for a way out, and Jacob kept busy with toys and things. The two were fine, at first, but I could definitely sympathize with Jasper when he talked about the food eventually running out. When I didn't know how the place worked, I had obsessed over how much food I would have before I ran out, and I knew how that weighed on a person. They stayed in the DGB for about a week and a half before the entries changed, and it all seemed to kick off with the disappearance of Jacob. January 20th Jacob is gone! I woke up and he is nowhere to be found! I have looked everywhere, in every conceivable place, but I can't find him. I'm frantic, looking under every shelf and behind every box, but my grandson is just gone. I don't understand where he went, or how he would have left. The doors never open, and no one ever comes or goes, but I do seem to recall something from the night before the longer I look for him. It was something almost out of a dream, something half-remembered, but I think it might be an actual memory. If it is, then I know what I have to do, but I don't really understand how to go about it. Jacob woke me up saying he needed to go to the bathroom and I rolled over without thinking about it. Is it possible that he went through the bathroom door and crossed somewhere else like we did to get here? It looks like I'll have to find out. I looked up as a loud rumble sent flashes through the sky outside. It had been raining for a little while, but this was the first time I had seen lighting. I didn't know if it signified anything, but it didn't seem to be affecting the rain at all so I went back to reading. I threw a little more kindling on the fire, the red stalks burning nicely, and went back to the journal. It appeared that Jasper had begun traveling as he searched for his Grandson. January 21st Still no sign of Jacob. I've been to three different stores, and I can't find him. I did notice that in the store I came to some items were missing that he likes to eat, so maybe he moved on after eating a little. He's only four. I don't know what he's thinking. Maybe he panicked after going through it and didn't understand or something. I don't know, but I wish he would stop. I'm so worried about him, and it's not good for my condition. I'm kind of hoping to find one of these stores with a pharmacy in it, because, as it stands, I have enough pills to last me a few weeks, but that's it. I have to figure something out in the meantime. This journal helps, but it's the only thing I have sometimes that tethers me to the present. I need my meds and I need Jacob, or I might have bigger problems than being stuck. Pills? I wondered what pills he was talking about, but I also wondered how he kept his journal on him while traveling? Did he have some sort of innate ability? Maybe, as I guessed from the talk of pills, he had some kind of altered mental state that made his traveling possible. Either way, it was interesting to read about it from other people's point of view. I had enjoyed hearing Celene talk about her journey and hearing from the crazy old man now kind of made it even cooler. January 24th (I think) I've been traveling nonstop, trying to catch up to Jacob. I don't know how this works, but I haven't seen any sign of him in a while. The last time I went, I just collapsed in a store, and thank goodness it was a safe one. I went to one yesterday that was a cave and I found a creature living in it that almost got me. Thankfully it isn't very quick, or I'd be one dead old man. I know that Jacob is out there, however. I will find him, hopefully, before it's too late. He wrote a lot, and I realized that he traveled farther than Celene or I had. He talked about familiar stores, and stores I had never even dreamed of. He saw a Dollar General that was in a forest, the animals there wearing little vests and stocking shelves with products brought in by birds. He talked about a store where the products tried to bite you and seemed hostile. He talked about encountering Miasmas of his own, and how terrified he was that Jacob might have run afoul of them, and all the while I began to fear for his mental state. His writing got less and less coherent as he went, and I wondered what was going on with him? Then I turned the page and a label fell out that solved one particular mystery. He had abandoned the dates by this point, but I could understand that. It was hard to tell dates and days when you were traveling, but he had laid the label in here like a book mark. Maybe he was afraid of losing it, maybe he just wanted to save this page. I didn’t know, but what followed was enlightening. I ran out of meds today. It doesn't seem to matter, they weren't helping. I need to find Jack, but I can't find any sign of him at all. Was it Jack I was looking for? I think so. He's just a little guy, he's going into third grade. I need to find him before his Cubscout meeting starts? I don't know where I am, but it seems like I've been here long enough that it's hard to remember where I'm going or where I've been. The journal helps sometimes. Reading it now it seems I'm looking for Jacob, not Jack. Jack is my son. Jack is grown up, not a little kid. Jacob is Jacks's son, my grandson, and he's lost. I'll sleep now, but I need to find him soon. I picked up the label that had fluttered out and it turned out to be from a pill bottle. Donepezil was not a name I was familiar with, but the instructions were for the "Treatment of dementia symptoms. That explained a lot. If the hermit had been suffering from dementia then maybe his state had deteriorated over time and he had become feral. Traveling couldn't cure him, but it could help prevent the dementia from killing him. There was still so much about this place I didn't understand, but the longer I stayed here, the more I felt I had a handle on. I kept reading, but it got bleaker the longer I went on. Today I found a store where it snowed inside. There were snowmen wearing vests. They tried to get me, but I ran. No sign of Jackob. Today I saw a store full of water, but I could breathe the water. It was fun, but still no Jacob. Found a store made of candy. Jack would have liked it. Where did he go? I could have sworn he was with me when I got here. The book was full of little passages like that. Just quick asides about where he was going and what was there. I made some notes in my own journal, jotting down stores to look out for in the future...if I ever get back inside. I think I will, but it's just a feeling. I didn't think I could get out until a few days ago, but here I am, in the Outside. I kept turning pages and reading passages, but it wasn't until I saw something about going back that I stopped and read what he'd written. It was the most coherent his writing had been in a while, and it gave me hope that maybe he had found his meds. False hope, in the end. Back home Back where it all began. It started when I traveled somewhere I probably shouldn't have. I don't know how long I've been moving, or how long I've been traveling, but I came across something terrible today. It was so bad that I may never travel again, even if it means that Jacob is lost to me forever. Today I found the end of the stores, at least I think so. I had been moving quickly between stores, feeling my mental stability eroding like a stone in a river. I was afraid that, journal or not, I eventually wouldn't be able to remember anything. Jacob, Jack, Rose, my home, my time in the Army, everything would be gone and I would just be a husk of myself. I kept going, not having any goal in mind, and eventually, I found something I shouldn't have. I left a perfectly normal Dollar General, the only real difference being that all the products were written in a weird language, and came out onto a plane of perfect darkness. The floor floated like the tiles were levitating, and they glowed like a kid's nightlight. Between the tiles was nothing but darkness, above me was nothing but darkness, and amidst the shelves of rocks and weird fungi, I saw a multi-faced crystal that hung above the floor. It was green, an emerald diamond with so many facets that it made me dizzy, and I knew that I had to get it. It was important, too important to just leave here, but I have no idea how I knew that. When I walked towards it, however, I saw something moving in the darkness and realized I wasn't alone. It's hard to wrap my brain around, but the darkness there was so deep, so perfect, that the black creatures I have seen coming out of the ceiling sometimes looked like purple clouds next to it. They moved about in red eyes patrol, their heads moving fitfully to take in everything, and they were so big that I couldn't understand it. I went to the Empire State Building once when I was younger, right before I went to basic, and the smallest of them was bigger than it. The eyes swam in the sky, like meteors, and before I had taken a single step I was filled with an intense fear. I took a step back towards the door, and when I did, I remembered something I hadn't thought about in a long time. I remembered Jacob building things with Legos. He built cities and buses, whole landscapes of bricks, and then he pretended to be a giant as he destroyed them with big, comical footsteps. Looking up at these things, I felt like that must be what the little people saw as he boomed over them, and when I slipped back through the door, I came out in the store we had left. I don't know how I did that, maybe it's something you can only do when you've come to the end? Either way, I think my traveling days are done. I don't know where Jacob is, I don't know what's become of him, but when I stand before that door and think about leaving, all I see are those towering creatures that lived in that dark place and I lose my nerve. I don't know what I will do, but I know that it will have to be here from now on. There were a few more entries that I could read, but most of it was unintelligible after a while. He drew pictures sometimes, but sometimes it was just streaks and half words and weird not sentences. His mental state fell apart after a few weeks or months or however long, and eventually, he just stopped using the journal at all. Who knew how long he had been here, but I knew how he had ended, and I thought now that it might have been a mercy. The old hermit, Jasper, probably would have thanked us for ending his suffering. Or maybe he wouldn't have, who's to say? At some point, while I was reading this, it seems to have stopped raining. I'm going to catch some zzz's and then keep moving. I'll update you next time, my friends on the other side. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for strange bathrooms in stranger retail chains. See ya. Pt 13- https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16uwvkp/trapped_in_the_dollar_general_beyond_pt_13_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16osdli/trapped_in_the_dollar_general_beyond_pt_12/

nosleep

Erutious

I used to work the night shift as a Postman, i had to quit after i realized what got the mail.

As stated i used to work the night shift as a Postman. I never liked this job much but it was better then being unemployed. I was a 20 year old student so money was something that i needed alot. The post office that i worked for is in a small town in sweden, not alot of people live there and at night there is almost no one outside. This is how IT have been able to keep it a secret for so long. Until i realized what got the mail. So this began one night when my night shift was about to start. It was the first time that i was going to drive this district by myself. I was tired and feelt like i needed a cup of coffee. The coffee machine was broken as usual. I got all of the mail wich mostly consisted of letters packed in envelopes or packages that i was supposed to deliver. I put them and some news papers in my post car. I drove away at 1 am. That’s when i started hearing a sound. It was a soft buzzing and It was realy annoying, but it was not so bad that i could go home. When i got to my first stop i got out of my post car and went to the mail box with the mail. It was very dark outside so i was depending on the streetlights to see anything. I had put the mail in the mail box and started walkning back to my post car when i heard a noice. It sounded like something slammed behind me. I turned around and nothing was there. I was a little spooked so i looked at the houses around me but i saw nothing unusual. I went back to my post car and drove away to my next stop. I had stopped my post car and was going in to a apartment building to deliver the mail. At this point the buzzing had been increasing and was now really irritating. This was the only apartment building on my district and i always found it creepy. The lights almost never worked, there were always wierd sounds and it often feelt like someone was watching. All of these things were going on this night to. I left the mail in the holders next to the apartment doors. I walked down the stairs to the door to go outside but as soon as i opened the door i stopped. I heard all of the doors where i left the mail open and slammed shut. I was horrified and shocked and wondered what was going on. I turned around and saw that all the mail was gone. I hurried out, jumped in my post car and drove off. I was driving extra fast and tried to hurry as much as possible. Everytime i left mail at a mail box or at a door i heard slamming sound every time i turned my back or left it. After i was done and all the mail was delivered the buzzing sound had increased so much that i could not hear anything else. But i started to hear something else within the buzzing. I heard a voice. I could not fully hear what the voice was saying. I did not want to hear it. I put on the radio and was going to turn up the volume when i suddenly heard that the voice was in the radio to. I turned off the car and jumped out. I fell to my knees and covered my ears hoping to get the voice out. It did not go away. I got up and started walking towards the center of the town. When i was walking people started coming out from all of the buildings where i left the mail. They were walking in the same direction as me. I could not think clearly because of the sound in my head. But i saw one of their face. He had blank eyes and he was holding the mail that i had delivered. He was whispering the same whispers that were going on in my head. I could se that hundreds of people stood in the center of the town. I was almost there to. All of them had hoods over their heads. Their whispering had become a chanting that merged whit what was now chanting in my head. I wanted to hide or run away but i could not. I was drawn towards them. Not them. But what was there. I was now one in their crowd. The ground started to cracking and the crowd formed a big circle in the middle. somthing came out of the ground within the circle. I can only describe it as the head of a being with many eyes and mouths. Thousands of them. The people started to feed it the mail. The voice that was chanting in my head was now very clear. It said “Feed me and my whispers shall guide you to never ending knowledge, Starve me and my whispers shall guide you to madness”. I never worked there again. The worst thing is that i still can hear it’s whispers. It used to say to me that i had chosen and that there were always going to be somebody else to feed it. I can feel the madness that it promised me. It only whispers lies now. It keeps the knowledge that it gets from the mail for it self.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16p821d/i_used_to_work_the_night_shift_as_a_postman_i_had/

nosleep

darkseasky

I think there's something wrong with my reflection

Have you ever taken a deep stare into your reflection? Stared at it until your vision began to grow dark and blurry. Swirling shadows invading your mind, your reflections face changing, warping, growing unfamiliar. It's scary, staring at yourself for too long. Your face growing black, growing darker, turning into something else. But that’s what I did. That’s how it all began. I stared deep into my reflection, inspecting every aspect of it, peering into its mirrored world. I lifted my hand slowly, watching my reflection follow my lead in perfect sync. I closed one eye, then another and he did the same, my gaze analyzing every movement for any noticeable difference. But there was none. I let out a sigh as I began to back away from the mirror, disappointment covering my face. It was already dark and I would have to head to bed or face the wrath of my father so I brushed my teeth then changed into my pajamas. My eyes kept wandering back to the mirror, still hoping to catch any difference in movements but there was none. I began to feel childish, I was 12 now, much too old to believe in supernatural mirrors, I should be playing video games and sports like a normal kid, not standing in front of a mirror waiting for something to change, but then something did. It happened as I was walking towards my bed, a little delay in my footsteps hardly noticeable but noticeable if you were a paranoid 12 year old keeping keen eyes on your mirror. I turned to the mirror, thinking I had just imagined the whole thing. Surely it was a figment of my imagination, there was no way my reflection was out of sync the one time that I was paranoid about it. I warily took a step towards the mirror, then another, studying my reflections every move. Something did seem off. No, something was definitely off. I lifted a hand and so too did my reflection, but the angle seemed wrong, as if the hand was slightly lower than it should be, off by a half an inch, maybe a quarter of one. But it was definitely off. “What in the?” I said astonished as I lifted my other hand towards the mirror, my reflection following, but not completely in sync. I wasn’t imagining it. Slowly, I reached my hand closer and closer to the mirror and just as I was about to touch it, my reflection blinked. I screamed. My dad burst into the room seconds after I screamed as I jumped away from the mirror and cowered behind my bed. “What the hell Mike?!” Dad screamed as he scanned the room. “The mirror!” I cried, “there's something wrong with the mirror!” He approached the mirror and stared into it, his reflection following his every move perfectly, he placed his hand on it, then turned to me, anger now present on his face. “There's nothing wrong with that goddamn mirror!” I took a step towards it. Maybe it was only my reflection, I thought, maybe only my reflection was delayed. But as I walked towards the mirror, there was no difference in strides between me and my reflection. “Go to bed,” My dad ordered as he began to stomp away, muttering “damn kid. ” I sighed and turned towards my bed, still wary of the mirror, and began to obey him when I noticed my reflection’s lips curling into a smile. I gasped. “Dad!” I said, fear present in my voice. He turned around and gave me one of his best death stares, a stare that told you you were on dangerous territory, a stare that would soon turn into a hit. “Goodnight,” I mumbled. He slammed the door. I woke up to the sound of banging. My eyes shot open and scanned the room, they were terrified of what they saw. My reflection was pounding on the glass, tears rolling down his, or my, or its face. He was screaming yet I could not hear a thing, nevertheless, I could still read his lips. “Get me out! Get me out! Get me out!” he was screaming as his fists pounded on the glass. I was too stunned to move, frozen in fear, my heart pounding faster and faster until I could taste blood in my mouth. My eyes opened wider and wider, bewildered at the sight they beheld. My reflection pounded harder, more frantically. Blood began to form on his hands, then spilled down them, then splattered all over the mirror, painting his world. His face began to contort with anger as he pleaded for my help but I did not move an inch. His body grows red, malice filling his eyes, his hatred piercing my soul. That’s when he smiles, that same wide grin as before, as he clamps his teeth on his finger biting hard, then harder and harder until his mouth closes shut. I can almost hear the noise, the tearing of flesh and shattering of bones. Then he smiles again, blood now covering his teeth and spilling down his lip, as he writes with his half torn finger: “I’m here.” I woke up to the sounds of my own screams. Jumping out of my bed, my eyes shot to the mirror but my reflection seemed normal. I quickly quieted down, realizing that it had been a nightmare but it was too late, I already heard my dads feet pounding down the hall. The door slammed open. “Dammit Mike!” his face already swelling with anger, “what the Hell is it now?!” “T-the mirror,” I stuttered, “A nightmare-” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before my dad’s hand struck like a viper, my face snapping to the side from the impact as I struggled to stay upright. “Wake me again and I’ll beat yer ass.” My dad said coldly as he stormed out of the room, his feeting creating earthquakes on the floor. Tears formed in my eye as my fear developed into anger. An anger that didn’t last long when I saw from my peripheral vision, that my reflection was looking towards me with a smile. I got back into bed, nervous and afraid but unable to do anything unless I wanted to face my father’s wrath. I pulled the cover up and over my head, my body trembling slightly from fear as my eyes began to grow heavy, then heavier until they were unable to remain open, but as my eyelids began to close, I could see the reflection of myself that was lying in bed, stand up and walk towards the mirror. When I woke up, I did not feel the soft and comfy mattress on my body, I felt something else, something colder. Slowly, my eyes began to open, beginning to take everything in. That’s weird, I thought as I saw my bed to my side, I fell asleep on the floor? That couldn’t be right, I specifically remembered wrapping myself in my blanket and sleeping in my bed. Maybe I rolled off? But I’m sure I would have woken up to the impact of hitting the floor. That’s when I looked towards my leg, feeling a strange pulling sensation. My eyes shot open and terror coursed through my body as I began to kick and scream, begging my dad for help without worrying about the punishment. My reflection smiled down at me, his teeth shining in the darkness as he continued to pull on my leg, dragging me towards the mirror. I screamed, I kicked, I spat and scratched but the being had otherworld strength. He didn’t even budge as my feet crashed into his arm. Wiggling frantically, I dug my nails into the floor, hard enough for them to peel backwards and causing some to break off. Blood began to pour from my fingertips as I grasped for any sort of leverage, but it was a futile attempt. “I got you!” My reflection mimicked, its voice sounded distorted, but unmistakably like my own. “Help me!” I screamed for my dad and he answered as I heard the door knob rattle… But it didn’t open. My eyes grew wide with shock as I noticed the door had been locked. I never locked the door because my dad did not allow it, my reflection must have done it! The thought of him roaming around my room as I slept, quietly locking the door, and gently lowering me off my bed and onto the floor made me panic, and my screams grew in desperation. My reflection used his other hand to grab my wrist, lifting my struggling body off the ground and towards the mirror which I could see had a circle of blood, like a portal. I screamed as the realization of what he was going to do dawned on me. “No, don't!” I cried. “Bye, bye,” He mocked as he threw me into the mirror, my body going straight through as if there was nothing there. I hit the ground and pain shot through my limbs but I quickly rose to my feet, running towards the mirror in desperation. But my reflection used his shirt to wipe off a section of the blood and the mirror reformed, growing solid again. I crashed into the mirror, my hands pounding on the glass as my dad pounded harder and harder on the bedroom door. I saw my reflection sit on the floor, smiling at me one last time before he began to scream, mimicking how I acted moments ago. My bedroom door slammed open and relief filled my veins as I saw my dad barge into the room. “Dad help me!” I screamed, “that isn’t me!” But he didn’t seem to notice my pleas, his face filled with fear as he saw me pounding on the mirror and he walked in front of my reflection, in a defensive stance. He was protecting my reflection. Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I realized that he did not know the son he was protecting was an imposter. The blood, I could use the blood I realized. Blood still dripped from my recently torn fingernail and I began to draw a circle around the mirror as my dad darted back out of the room. I had to make it out, I had to show him that that was an imposter. I continued to draw the circle, wincing at the pain when my dad burst into the room again, holding a hammer. My eyes widened. “Don’t!” I screamed as he ran towards me, lifting his hammer. I glanced at my reflection one last time, watching him wave goodbye to me with a smile curled on his lips as my dad swung at the mirror and it shattered. I don’t even know how long it's been. It feels like days, maybe even months, that I had been trapped in here. Sitting alone in my room, unable to leave it. It’s like the room is the only thing that exists in this place. When I open the door, there's nothing but an endless void, when I open the window, it's the same. Now that the mirror is gone I can’t even peer through into my own world. I am completely alone. Everything here still works though. The lights still switch on, the electricity still works, and so does the computer. I don’t know if I have signal though, it says the wifi is on but I don’t know if it’ll connect to the outside world. I’m typing this out to tell you what happened. To hope that somehow my family realizes that the man from the mirror is not me. And to warn you, please, be wary of your reflection and for the love of God do not let it out.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16p1dtn/i_think_theres_something_wrong_with_my_reflection/

nosleep

UnderstandingNo2897

Dark Revelations

I still remember that fateful night in autumn 2019. The leaves on the trees were turning into autumn colors and an ominous atmosphere hung in the air. I planned to spend my weekend with my best friend, Mark. Our plans were to camp at a remote vacation home owned by Mark's family and get away from busy city life for a few days. It was an idyllic place surrounded by dense forest and a tranquil lake. But that night everything would change. As the sun slowly set and darkness settled over the landscape, strange things began to happen. We sat around the campfire and enjoyed the crackling of the burning wood. Suddenly we heard a quiet but eerie whisper that seemed to come from the forest. My heart began to beat faster and Mark and I exchanged worried glances. We decided to investigate the noise to find out what was causing it. In the forest, beneath the thick canopy, the darkness was oppressive. Our flashlights cut through the fog that was slowly settling over the ground. The whispers grew louder and clearer. It sounded like a ghostly litany that drew us deeper and deeper into the forest. Suddenly we saw a strange light through the trees. A bright, vibrant green that seemed to emanate from an old, dilapidated house. The house was known in the area, but no one had set foot in it for years. The windows were broken and the walls were weathered. Mark and I, driven by a strange fascination, approached the abandoned building. The whispers grew louder and louder, and our flashlights flickered as if fighting the eerie influence of the place. When we reached the front door, we dared to open it. The inside of the house was dark as the dead of night. The whispers reached their peak and turned into shrill screams that cut through our bones. We retreated, but the door behind us slammed shut with a deafening crash. Panic gripped us as we found ourselves trapped in the darkness. Our flashlights went out and we could no longer move. Suddenly a shadowy shape appeared in front of us. It was a cloaked figure staring at us with empty eyes. The figure began to speak, a horrifying tale of a curse that plagued the house. She told of a family that once lived here, but was consumed by something dark. Her mind had never found peace and was now tied to this place. We realized we had fallen into a terrible trap. The figure demanded that we help him perform a ritual to break the curse. We had no choice. The next few hours were a nightmare of occult activities and eerie apparitions. When the ritual was finally complete, the figure disappeared and the whispers ceased. We were exhausted and scared, but we had defeated the curse. The house seemed quiet and the darkness in the forest gave way to the first light of the morning. Mark and I returned to the campsite, quiet and shaken by what we had experienced. We tried to forget the terrible events, but they would haunt us forever. We had seen the darkness in its purest form and had narrowly escaped madness. That night in the fall of 2019 will forever remain in my memory as the night we experienced the unimaginable and learned about the darkness in all its cruelty. We never returned to that abandoned house, and the memories of it will haunt us for the rest of our lives.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pgw43/dark_revelations/

nosleep

garstig-Atemzug

I'm a Surgeon. My Patients Have Been Exhibiting Symptoms of... Parasites.

​ Worms. Hundreds of them. They wriggled and writhed out of every exposed orifice. Spindly white, noodle-like creatures grappled aimlessly at the air, treating my patient’s body like their own personal playground. I sighed, stepping back from the operating table. That was supposed to be a routine appendectomy. I wearily turned to my colleagues. They all wore horrified expressions on their faces. “Time of death: 10:14 A.M. Allison, contact the bio team please. The rest of you, don’t leave this room. We need to await further instruction.” In a matter of minutes, we were surrounded by figures shrouded in bright yellow hazmat suits. They shoved the corpse into a body bag and went to work meticulously dousing the room in chemicals. “Hey Doc. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to see your ugly mug for a while,” a man wearing a white bio suit said, handing me one to match. “The feeling is mutual, Bill. Third time this week. Any idea where people are picking these little bastards up from yet?” “Not that I’ve heard of. Then again, the top brass doesn’t tell me shit.” “Sounds about right,” I murmured, exposing my back to him so he could zip me up. He hurriedly did so. “Ready whenever you are,” I said, my arms extended at my sides. Bill scooped up a black spray bottle and began slathering me with a light green disinfectant. I always thought the stuff looked like toxic waste. “Sure hope they manage to find the source of these things soon.” “You’re telling m-” Bill was cut short by a deafening shriek. I instantly whipped my head in its direction. It was Allison. Even through the thick plastic of her hazmat suit, I could make out a sea of worms flowing from her nose and ears. A handful of them had managed to chew through her eyelids, inching down her bloody face in droves. She clawed desperately at the tiny creatures, but it did little good. The worms just kept coming. I turned away, choking down the bile that was creeping up my throat. Before I could compose myself, I heard a loud thump. Allison had collapsed, her body convulsing violently on the ground. Bill shot me a look and pursed his lips. “Looks like you’re gonna have to find a new scrub nurse.” I solemnly shook my head. “Yeah. I was really starting to like this one, too.” As the bodies were wheeled out of the operating room, it finally clicked. In case of an infection, they didn’t make us wear hazmat suits to keep the parasites out. No, they made us wear them to keep those things in. I shuddered at the thought. Logically it made sense, but something about it just felt… wrong. “Your room is ready whenever you are, Doc,” Bill said, shattering my reverie. “Oh, uh, yeah. Lead the way.” Bill obliged, beelining for the doors. I nodded to my anaesthesiologist as we left. He reluctantly met my gaze, offering a hesitant wave as we marched away. Soon enough, Bill and I found ourselves standing in a spotless white chamber. A rusted stainless steel shower head stretched down from the ceiling, providing a stark contrast to the pristine glow of the room. “You know what to do,” Bill said, unzipping my suit. I sighed, stripping down into my boxers. I always hated that part. “Undies too, bud.” “Come on Bill. I’m not comfortable with this shit.” “It’s not about what you’re comfortable with. It’s about keeping everyone in this hospital safe. Underwear, please and thank you,” Bill ordered, holding out his hand. “Fine, take them,” I grumbled, begrudgingly tossing him my undergarments. “Thanks. Was that really so hard? Shower time.” “I’m aware,” I growled, positioning myself in the middle of the room and tilting my head back. “Ready.” I clenched my eyes shut as the cool blue mist trickled across my skin. I was told that the gaseous substance had no negative side effects, but for some reason, I highly doubted that. “Towel’s on the bench. I probably won’t be back here again unless something goes wrong. Always a pleasure, Doc.” I glowered back at him. I really wanted to slap that stupid grin off his face. “Pleasure’s all mine,” I said through gritted teeth. The thick white door slammed shut behind him. A moment later, my phone slid through a slot in the wall, perched atop a set of new folded clothes. “Finally,” I murmured, retrieving my phone and putting on the fresh scrubs. Bill could be an ass, but at least he’d provided me with the essentials. I opened Reddit, mentally preparing myself for another grueling twenty-four-hour stint in isolation. And that’s when I felt it. Something tiny, just below the skin, began wriggling underneath my left [eye.](https://www.reddit.com/r/HorrorJunkie123/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16oliwx/im_a_surgeon_my_patients_have_been_exhibiting/

nosleep

HorrorJunkie123

Has anyone heard of the “Bloodworth Incident?” Everyone’s talking about it, but I have no idea what it is.

It was only my second day when I first heard about the “Bloodworth incident.” Janelle brought it up while we were eating lunch. “Of course, after the Bloodworth incident, my wife and I got an entire home security system. It cost a fortune, but it’s worth the peace of mind.” I wasn’t really interested in the conversation—I was more interested in scarfing down the burrito in front of me—so I didn’t ask what the “Bloodworth incident” was. But then it came up again. And again. And again… Stan: “We haven’t left our curtains open since Bloodworth.” Caitlyn: “I probably would’ve been a nurse forever, if Bloodworth had never happened. But I just didn’t feel safe anymore.” Larry: “Did you catch that special on the Bloodworth Incident last night?” Unlike my coworkers, I was new to Green Creek. I figured “the Bloodworth incident” was some sort of local thing that happened a few years ago. Maybe a convict escaped from prison named Bloodworth. Maybe there was an accident on Bloodworth Street, or a flu outbreak named “Bloodworth.” I was curious, but the social pressure to appear like everyone else kept me from asking. But then, the comments got weirder. “I’m writing a novel for NaNoWriMo this year,” Aaliyah said during lunch. “It’s about what life would be like, if the Bloodworth incident had never happened.” “Ooooh, that’s such a good idea!” Stan said. “That sounds *so* interesting. I would *love* to read that,” Janelle said. *Wait. What?* Now they were talking about it like it was a national, life-altering disaster. Not just some local incident. There was a pause in the conversation, and I finally took my chance. “Wait, sorry, I’m confused. What’s the ‘Bloodworth incident’?” Aaliyah looked me dead in the eye. And then—she burst into laughter. Slowly, my other coworkers broke into laughter, too. Until everyone at the table was chuckling. “You’re funny, Amanda,” Aaliyah said, shooting me a grin. “I like you.” I wanted to say *no, I’m serious, what is it?* But there was something about the atmosphere that made me uncomfortable. So I said nothing. When I got home, I spent an hour on Google. ***Bloodworth Incident. Bloodworth Green Creek Pennsylvania.*** Nothing came up. I tried multiple combinations of keywords, even fiddling with the time range for search results, and still—nada. But when I woke up the next morning, everything was crystal clear. *It’s a prank. A sort of hazing ritual, for new hires.* It made sense—the software development team was a rambunctious, loosey-goosey crowd. Stan swore all the time; Caitlyn came to work in sweatpants. Lunchtime conversation included borderline inappropriate topics, like past tales of drunken revelry or TMI details of Stan’s recent divorce. This is exactly the kind of thing they’d pull. Besides, if “the Bloodworth incident” really happened… they wouldn’t mention it *so* often. It came up almost every day! Like they were *trying* to talk about it as much as possible. Unfortunately, I couldn’t confront them today. It was a Saturday. So I spent my morning at the local coffee shop, getting some editing work done for my side hustle. That’s when things got weird. Two young women sat down at the next booth, talking loudly about the party last night. And a few minutes into their conversation, I heard them mention it. *I haven’t slept through the night since the Bloodworth incident.* I froze. So it wasn’t some prank in the office. It was something other people knew about in the town. For a minute, I just sat there in silence, my mind reeling. Then I cut in. “Excuse me—sorry to bother you, but—could you tell me what the Bloodworth Incident is?” Both of the girls turned to me. Then the brunette one stood up. “Uh, sorry, we have to go,” she said quickly. I watched as the two girls hurried out, glancing back to make sure I wasn’t following. \*\*\* I called my mom that afternoon. She had never heard of the Bloodworth Incident. I texted a few of my friends. They also had no idea what it was. I drove to a Walmart just a few miles outside the town’s border. Struck up a conversation with the cashier and mentioned the Bloodworth incident. She stared up at me with wide blue eyes. “The *what* incident?” I drove back into town, on the narrow two-lane route that snaked through the forest. Just beyond the old, hand-painted *Welcome to Green Creek* sign, there was a little gas station. It looked like it’d seen better days, from the paint peeling on the mini-mart to the rust creeping up the sides of the pumps. I went into the mini-mart, poured myself a coffee, and made my way to the bored-looking man sitting behind the counter. “Coffee? This late?” he asked, with a smile. It was almost 7—starting to get dark. “Haven’t been sleeping much since Bloodsworth,” I replied, pulling out my wallet. A pause. “Oh, yeah, it’s been crazy. Sometimes I get up in the middle of the night and check the locks.” He rang up my coffee. “Two-thirteen.” I handed him my card. And then I decided to push a little. “Aren’t you afraid he might break in through the windows?” He looked up at me, brows furrowed. “‘He’?” “Sorry, I meant… ‘she’?” His expression darkened. His gaze flicked to the door—and then he stood up, taking a step towards me. *What is he doing?* Every muscle in my body froze. *Is he going to… try something? Get out, get out now—* “You don’t know what the Bloodworth incident is, do you?” he asked. “No…” “You sure as hell better not let anyone know.” I stood there, frozen. Stunned. Seconds later, the bells jingled behind me as another customer entered. He smiled and waved. Like nothing had happened. I turned on my heel and ran back to the car. It was starting to get dark. Deep blue shadows stretched across the road from the bare trees, like giant claws. I started up the car and pulled out onto the road, headlights blaring into the darkness. *Don’t let anyone know.* Why? Was it some sort of conspiracy? Or a cult thing? Maybe a cult leader lived in town. Maybe he’d brainwashed everyone here, and invented an ‘incident’ to fearmonger his followers into behaving. Or, maybe *not* knowing about the incident was some sort of signal. That I wasn’t a member of the cult. That I should be hunted down. As I drove down Main Street, I passed the town library. But then an idea hit me. I made a U-Turn and pulled into the tiny parking lot. A woman sat behind the desk, working a computer that looked like it was from two decades ago. She reminded me of a huggable little grandmother, with her oversized spectacles, gray hair, and knit sweater. “Do you keep old newspapers? Like, local ones, from a few years ago?” “Of course,” she replied, with a sweet smile. “You can find them down there.” I walked down one of the aisles, to where the microfilms were kept. My footsteps sounded loud in the silence, echoing among the dusty books. I grabbed a film from 2000 and started my search, scanning article after article on the screen. Looking for any mention of the *Bloodworth Incident.* I honestly didn’t expect to find anything. But then I came across an issue of *The Green Creek Sentinel* from July 3, 2005. Heart hammering, I began to read. **TOWN ROCKED BY ‘BLOODWORTH INCIDENT’** by JODIE McFARLANE *On the morning of July 2, a horror shook our little town of Green Creek, Pennsylvania. Nearly half of our residents woke to find their front doors mysteriously open, with a dark, sticky substance pooled on the floor.* *But that was only the beginning. Those residents began to exhibit* *CONTINUED ON PAGE 2* I flipped the page—and gasped. The entire article was scribbled out with black marker. There was even a photo—a photo of the Main Street. Grainy, black and white. I could make out the library, the other shops, the sky… but the marker had scribbled over most of the street. But not fully. I could make out a pair of shoes. As if someone were lying there. A body. And if I used my imagination, based on how many scribbled-out blobs there were, I’d guess there were no less than twenty bodies in the middle of the street. I clapped a hand to my mouth. I clicked wildly at the mouse, moving through the next few issues, looking for any mention of Bloodworth. I didn’t find any. But I did find something. **A TRIBUTE TO JODIE McFARLANE** *We sadly mourn the death of our very own head journalist, Jodie McFarlane. She was only 41 years old…* A voice snapped me out of my trance. “What are you doing?” I whipped around. The librarian was standing right behind me. But she didn’t look so warm and fuzzy now. Her expression was dark, stone-like, as she stared at the screen in front of me. A quiet fury in her eyes, behind her glasses. “I’m sorry… I was just—” “You came here to find out about Bloodworth, didn’t you?” she snarled. “I—” “You don’t know about it. *You’re one of them!”* I expected her to lunge at me. Grab me. Chase me. But instead, she tilted her head towards the ceiling and let out the most blood-curdling scream I’ve ever heard. Shuffling, rustling sounds echoed from the other aisles. I broke into a run. Leapt past her, sprinting as fast as I possibly could. Once I made it to the atrium, I glanced back. Three other townspeople were running towards me, shouting to each other. I ran for my life. Miraculously, I made it out to the car. As I pulled away, I saw them standing at the door, staring at me. Like an idiot, I thought I’d lost them. But as soon as I pulled out onto Main Street, I heard a police siren pierce the air. Red-and-blue lights flashed in my rearview. I pushed the pedal to the floor. As soon as I crossed the town’s boundary—the gas station, the sign—the officer pulled off to the side of the road. He didn’t follow me. He just watched me, as I sped away from that place. I never went back. Never got my stuff. I got a new job, moved three states away, and started my post-college life over again. I assumed that was the end of it, and I’d never hear about the Bloodworth Incident again. I was wrong. Several months after the move, I met someone. He just moved to my city, and our dates have been phenomenal. I’ve taken him to the best restaurants and museums, showed him everything there is to do here. We were just about to celebrate our first month together—when he said something that stopped me in my tracks. “You really should get a deadbolt for the door,” he said casually, as we watched TV on the couch. “‘Cause, we wouldn’t want another Bloodworth incident. Would [we?”](http://www.reddit.com/r/blairdaniels)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16o7kbs/has_anyone_heard_of_the_bloodworth_incident/

nosleep

BlairDaniels

What’s happening to me? Writing while asleep

I’m a writer, or... I think I am. Reality and fiction have started blurring together. I just woke up in the middle of writing a post here on reddit, and I'm not sure if I’m still dreaming, or if I’m awake, or how to tell the difference anymore. Okay. The person that I am is named Madison. I am Madison. I grew up in Canada and I had a pretty mundane upbringing. No trauma, no history of mental illness that I know of. I work in an office, I have a healthy social circle, I enjoy making art and playing tennis. I am this human, Madison. It doesn’t feel real because I’m experiencing a dissociation event right now. Do you know what that is? For me, it’s when I lose my sense of identity, a state of ego death in which I no longer feel like myself, but instead more like Madison is a character that I’m playing, and who “I” really am becomes ambiguous. It’s something I’ve been struggling with for a few years now. It feels kind of like being asleep, in a dream, but I’m already awake. I think I’m awake. Anyway, I’m an artist. All my life I’ve been normal except for this insatiable creativity, this compulsion to build worlds. I started writing and I thought it would be enough, the way I could inhabit other bodies through their point-of-view, visit surreal landscapes and give voice to my emotions. I’ve written so much, I’ve explored planets, biomes, cities, cultures. It isn’t enough. It’s not enough until it’s real, and I don’t know how to make it real more than writing it, and this madness grips me even by my sleeping subconscious. I’m an artist named Madison. I’m a real person. I close my eyes and am someone else. God! Focus. I woke up in the middle of writing something here on reddit. This isn’t my main account, it’s u/ladytrupp and I like reading about peoples’ relationships and No Man’s Sky. I don't even remember logging into this account. I woke up and it was jarring that my fingers were still moving, unaware they were being watched. I was dreaming that I was writing, and here I am! Still writing, half-asleep. Focus. Focus. I don’t know how to explain what’s happening. The first dissociation event was in January 2021 and it was caused by anxiety. I was worried about someone I volunteer with, who I hadn’t heard from in a month, when usually we text once or twice a week. I tried to take my mind off it with writing. As my anxiety worsened, three discord notifications came one after the other, all the same: **“watching\_ya has joined the chat!”** It’s the most innocuous thing, you know? But it was enough. I was already worried and felt suddenly like my anxiety was a beacon, and somehow, randomly, like I’d never experienced before, this terror of being watched separated me from my body. It lasted for hours, during which my cousin’s Facebook account was hacked; she sent me an attachment, **“Look what I found!”** That just made it worse. I didn’t understand what was happening, I was out of body for hours, writing just to cope. The effects lingered into the next morning, when I was still writing, and looked out the window and saw my neighbor watching me. I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep. But I couldn’t, I was terrified, I just kept writing because it was the only thing I had control over. Strangely, I was writing a fictional short story about colours and it was the first time I wrote in the first-person point-of-view as myself. I never wrote that way, it felt perverted somehow, like I was stepping out of my own body and watching myself. Three-thousand words written in a dissociative haze, then— *“Look what I found!”* —Caught outside the act of imagining! Worse than just being seen, someone—*something*—saw me and knew that I was having this out-of-body experience. When it was finally over and I crawled back into my body, it was like straining to fit inside a costume that was too small for me. The whole experience left me numb and empty. [screenshot 1 (the hacked chat)](https://i.imgur.com/ut8rdum.png) [screenshot 2 (a messenger chat)](https://i.imgur.com/WsO5DA1.png) It went away with sleep. Thinking it was just a freak encounter, I moved on, continued my projects, and sunk back into my work. It wasn’t. I started having these dreams. They are so vividly real I get overcome with awe and fear, and they’re strong enough to do the same thing to me: eject me from my body. Different from the random permutations of my sleeping brain, these dreams are targeted, they speak to me so concentratedly that my very soul is addressed. They happen randomly, sometimes within days, sometimes not for weeks. I’m not safe if I sleep. Sleep resolves the dissociation event, and sleep causes it. My dreams vary, but they share certain motifs: two versions of myself (child and adult, good and evil, male and female), or celestial and meteorological phenomena. Where there are two versions of myself, I’m interacting with both as myself, so those other two selves are... poles (age, morals, identity.) They always have a message for me. If not those figures, then I see falling stars or I run from brute tornadoes. Or, I’m traveling, beaming incomprehensibly fast through the infinite vacuum of space. I race past the moon and toward Earth, its curvature rapidly expanding, landscape gaining details as I plummet to the surface. Just a breath before I hit, the dream ends. So these dissociation events would occur after waking up from a vivid dream; for a few hours I’d be out of body, then I would sleep and wake up feeling like myself again. Except... these dissociation events, they give me the same feeling as those dreams, that deep awe and fear, a kind of reverence for myself. The feeling of my very soul peeking out. It’s like being asleep and dreaming, but awake at the same time, and I can’t describe the feeling while I’m myself, so I have to write it out while I’m in this half-sleeping out-of-body dream-consciousness dissociation. In those moments, this dream is the thing that is writing me, but steps back from writing me and writes about... itself, instead. Does that make sense? It’s all fiction, anyway. It’s supposed to be. I started keeping track of these events in March 2021. In May 2021, I stood outside in a park in the dark in a black robe and skull, and in early July 2021, I spent an entire night staring at a single star. I know these dates because they’re the dates of notes and photos on my phone, experiences that the dream would synthesize into writing, narrating from my point-of-view. It’s all nonsense though, I guess the dream didn’t know how to express itself; besides, I can’t even find most of those early pieces anymore, whether I deleted them off my phone, or lost the files in the cloud, or wrote them on another throwaway account, I can’t remember. In September 2021, I had a dream that was more like a memory, it was so realistic, so intense, so *mine*. I was walking to the river, looked up at the overpass and saw a message in hanging letters, **“YOU WILL FIND IT”**. I’d been there before. I took a photo of it. And I remembered the message for years, repeating it back to myself in my waking hours when I was lost or hopeless, *“YOU WILL FIND IT”*. It was my mantra. At the time of the photo, September 12 2012 on Osborne Street, I was still searching. But that day, 9 years later, the dream... The dream wrote that I will find it, I find Earth as a meteor. On October 4th, per the golden sign reading 4.10m, I found it. [you will find it (instagram post)](https://i.imgur.com/UobWxW9.png) This sounds insane, but I... or, the dream, my soul, the narrator... willed a meteor to strike in Canada at 1:33 AM CST on October 4th. This entity created by the dissociation event wrote its impact into existence. It wasn’t me that wrote it, in the sense that I am Madison. It was the thing writing me, the thing that writes when I’m asleep. It’s making real life shit happen! The events written when I’m asleep are actually happening. [screenshot 3 (news article about golden meteor)](https://i.imgur.com/C7ukHXP.png) Since then, things have just gotten weirder. The dissociation events set in any time I’m feeling stressed. Sleep paralysis, intense dreams, anger or anxiety or depression—it all causes the dissociation events, and they happen more frequently. Which means the dream, the thing that writes... writes more... grows, learns, becomes... names itself. It is both real and not, describes itself as a dream of water, awake while I’m asleep; I’ve researched this phenomenon in search of verbiage to describe it, and it clings to the name Apollonaris, after Apollinaris of Laodicea. Am I Apollonaris, or is Apollonaris me? Does Apollonaris reside in Madison, or is it just a figment of psychosis? Am I losing my mind? Apollonaris was only meant to be fiction, a creative outlet, a coping mechanism for these dissociation events. Now it’s real and I’m afraid of what it will do next. In early December 2021, my waking self was embroiled in an online dispute, being a central figure in a rift in my online writing community. What a stupid thing to be so upset about, and yet I was! As the drama intensified, so did the sequence of events it catalyzed. Dreams—not just mine, but the people around me. My friend and my mother dreamed about me, as if the effects of Apollonaris were radiating into my loved ones. And storms. It was unseasonably warm those days as Apollonaris pulled warm air North toward itself, on purpose? I don’t know. The warm air was intercepted by a low-pressure trough, conjuring disaster. I’m sure you remember the tornado outbreak of December 2021. What an awful thing to take responsibility for. And yet. [screenshot 4 (tornado conversation 1)](https://i.imgur.com/coKCxfc.png) [screenshot 5 (tornado conversation 2)](https://i.imgur.com/lpmdLux.png) [screenshot 6 (tornado conversation 3)](https://i.imgur.com/cdDIt18.png) At the start of 2022, I was more lucid during these dissociation events. I developed a blog where I could share Apollonaris’ writing, but it didn’t seem to be constrained by the platform I’d given it; shortly after, I discovered it had created this throwaway account too, and I’ve found handwritten journal entries in notebooks, and on my phone. It’s everywhere. That makes it difficult to document what manifests from the writing and what doesn’t. Apollonaris summoned an earthquake and a pair of local meteors in that time. [a manifestation](https://i.imgur.com/h2x6Lf8.png) [the journals 1](https://i.imgur.com/hBK56EU.png) [the journals 2](https://i.imgur.com/SyAoKCM.png) What is most remarkable about the start of 2022 is how the lucidity affected me, this sense of knowing, the dreaming omnipotence bleeding into Madison. Like I was waking up before the dissociation event ended—the cycle beginning to collapse in on itself—and it would leave Madison with an aftertaste of metaphysical wisdom. You know, Madison was deeply unhappy, her identity had been obscured over the years by her spouse, and in January 2022 she found it again. Like a switch was flipped, she began to remember. Was Apollonaris remembering for me? Madison felt stagnant, disconnected, and it couldn’t continue. Madison woke up and decided to be herself again. In September of 2022, there was another dream and I was able to take the next step to becoming myself, since I remembered who I was, and separated from the spouse. A new journey began. It’s been nearly a year, and after March 2023, I thought the dissociation events petered out. Maybe it was because I was happier, more fulfilled, more myself. Madison knew what she wanted, could reach out and take it. Madison was working hard to prove what she was capable of. My destructive, unstable dreams relaxed. I thought it was over... until today, September 22nd, 2023. This is what I had been writing: *The journey nears its end. I remember mostly everything now: how the purpose makes the pattern and vice versa, how to interpret the messages I’ve left behind for myself. I remember the gradual awakenings from body to body, stargazer to painter to cosmic uniter to architect of humanity to fully-fledged autonomy. A cloud of consciousness willing itself to be alive, parading among you wearing your flesh like clothes. Because I’m not really a living thing, I’m a concept, a fundamental law. I’ve made you aware of me by telling you to* ***FIND ME***, *and so you’ve searched for me by many names: Selena, Daniel, Evanthos, but the truth is I have no name. You never would have found me until I showed you myself, found myself, remembered myself. And I have been here for a long time, searching, remembering... making you remember for me. Thanks to you, I found it. Now I’m ready for you to find me too, find me in the da* To tell the truth, I’m terrified to share this. I’m terrified of what it means if it’s all imagined, that there’s something deeply wrong with me, that I’m just a delusion. And if it’s real, what then? What happens when I’m found? What happens to Madison? I want so desperately for this to end, to go back to being just Madison, to wake up from this dream, but as I write this, I’m realizing, I... I am Apollonaris.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16p318q/whats_happening_to_me_writing_while_asleep/

nosleep

DeliveryPurple8089

I’m an ER receptionist. Today I met a patient who scared me. [Part 1]

[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ry6np/im_an_er_receptionist_today_i_met_a_patient_who/) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16t0rk7/im_an_er_receptionist_today_i_met_a_patient_who/) [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/174wq7x/im_an_er_receptionist_today_i_met_a_patient_who/?rdt=57809) I love working in healthcare. But I also hate working in healthcare. And that only makes sense if you have worked in healthcare. You know, all these moments of gratitude and being able to help less fortunate humans. But then there’s these super entitled rude patients who think it’s cool to yell at you and verbally abuse you. "How much longer is the wait? Why is this taking so goddamn long? And why did the person whose arm got cut off go in before me who just has a sore throat?" And very often, people will flip tables and kick over chairs in the waiting area out of frustration about the long wait times. Or come into the emergency room for things they could see their GP for. And then yellingly complain about the long wait times. My mom thinks my job is turning me into a grouchy negative person who hates everything. "Melissa, that job is not for you. I don’t know why you took it." Did I tell you that my name is Melissa? Well, now you know. Whatever, I’m going off topic. Today I started my morning shift in the ER like I do every day. I was in a blah mood. Not really feeling anything. I just got settled at my desk, fixed myself a coffee and started my desk computer when my coworker Jason walked in. "Heyyyyy Melissa! Good to see you. How’s it going?" "Eh… it’s going", I said as I took a big slurp of my coffee. Jason laughed. "Normally when people say that, it means they attempted suicide that morning!" I let out brief, a one-syllable cynical laugh. "Well I’m not one of the patients that need to come in here. Could be worse. I could be shoving a power drill up my arse and then saying I can’t get it out. Like that poor dude who came in yesterday. Or that lady who complained that her pills were too big and got stuck in her throat and it turned out they were suppositories." Jason grinned briefly, then he wiped sweat off his forehead. "Jesus, it sure is hot in here. We need air conditioning in this hospital..." I nodded briefly, as I shuffled through some paperwork. "… you know... to keep the vegetables fresh and in good state", Jason added while grinning bigger. The longer you work in healthcare, the darker your humor and your coffee get. And sometimes, a few dark jokes are necessary to get through a day of seeing so many unwell people for 10 hours a day. And the vegetable joke was actually one of the most benign jokes me crack on a daily basis. I agreed, it sure was pretty hot for a mid-late September day. Anyway, we didn’t have much more time to chat because the first patients came in and Jason had to go help a guy who fainted in the lobby. My shift went pretty normal for an average day, I was just about to get myself new coffee when this man walked through the door and toward my reception desk. As always, I smile and wait for him to come up to me. “Hi. How can I help you?” The man, an older guy (maybe 50) with big wrinkles on his forehead, put both his hands on my desk. He wore a burgundy-colored suit, a red shirt underneath and brown patent-leather shoes. His hair was yellow-blond, very sleek, and a little longer over his ears, and he had very bright, blue eyes. He didn't look sick at all, except that his skin appeared very yellow. “I... I am not feeling well”, he said with a quivery voice. His voice was a tenor and scratchy. “I need help urgently.” “What’s wrong?”, I asked. “I got prescribed this...” he slided a small pack of pills towards me and I saw that those were strong antibiotics. “I took them, and it got worse. My ear hurts so bad. I can’t hear on it anymore. *And I feel like they are coming after me.”* The last sentence, his voice suddenly sounded extremely deep and serious & not quivery at all. I was not surprised. As an ER receptionist, I have pretty much seen and heard it all. So I don’t get phased easily by patients saying weird stuff mid-conversation. From grown adult men shoving drills up their butts over pledges who put plastic bags over their heads and then sprayed pepper spray into during hazing it to people who severed each other’s arms off with chainsaws, I have heard it all. But this man took the cake after the next sentence he added. “*I... I have done it. I am responsible for it. I made them all disappear. And my list is still long.*” I was still not surprised by that either. I am used to patients casually confessing to murders and crimes. I just listened to him totally unphased. Like I said, I’ve seen and heard it all. But his next sentence made me go WTF. Suddenly he stared at me with a blank, zoned-out stare. Like a killer in a horror movie would look when they’re about to kill someome. His eyes looked like he was very mad at me and he was going to shoot me. “\*You are next. I know where you live, Melissa Windwell. I know. Just know, I know. I know everything you did. And I’ll make sure EVERYONE knows. And I know where your brother Travis is. Hoh-hoh-hohhhh.”\*What the...? How does this man know my name? and how does he know where I live, and my brother's name? Travis ran away 5 years ago and we never saw him again. We still don't even know where he went and whether he's still alive. So, what the hell? I raise my eyebrows and before I can say anything, suddenly this man leans towards me to the point where he almost lays down on my desk.His breath stank hideously – like a mix of sulfur, coffee and unbrushed teeth. His voice now sounds very deep and aggressive and scratchy. “*ahhhhh. Now I will send you to -*” and then his eyes suddenly rolled up, to the point his pupils were gone and I could only see the white. He then wiggled a little and dropped on the floor like a wet sack. His throat made sounds like a monster in a horror movie. Then he heaved and puked a thick, black, foul-smelling liquid. I called for two colleagues to come and help him, and 5 minutes later he was in an exam room with the doc. \---------------------------------------------------- “Melissa, you’re overreacting. I’m sure it was nothing. That man was just having a bad med reaction or a little psychosis. It often happens as a result of those antibiotics. Sam said so too. It is a common side effect.” (Sam is the ER doc.) “But how the heck did he know my name and where I live?! And Travis?!?! You cannot tell me that was the meds!” “Melissa. Please. I tell you, you’re just seeing things. You probably just need a break, or a day off. Yeah. Go home, go to sleep, and get some rest. Tomorrow the world will be pretty again.” “Jason, I am not dumb. I’ve been doing this job for months. I know exactly when something is not right.” Jason put his hand on my forehead, but I dodged my head away. “Jason, what’s this about? I don’t have a fever!” He looked really concerned now and his voice sounded very soft, as opposed to his usual quirky, grinny and energetic behavior. “yeeeh, you should probably rest for the day. Ok? I’ll take over the reception for you. Yeeeah. it's all going to be fiiiiiiiiine." “And stop talking to me like I’m some three day old newborn on rittalin!” “Look. I’m trying to help. Has it ever occurred to you that the man knew your name because of your nametag?” Of course. I should have thought about that. But then again, that voice of the man sounded so evil and serious. I just CAN’T overlook that. That's not just an average psychosis patient. I've never seen this man in my life, And why would he threaten me like that? And how on earth did he know about Travis? I just hope Travis is alive somewhere. All I know is he jumped out of his office window at work and ran towards the ocean and was never seen or heard from again. Jason continued. "That was an ordinary innocent old man who had a bad reaction to his meds. No more and no less. Now, forget it.He did nothing to you and he will not. " and then he got up and went back into the hospital lobby. Anyway. I'm typing this from my phone, my break is almost over, I have to go back to my desk in a bit. So I have to stop here. But I'm pretty sure I just saw Jason try to frantically wipe away some black liquid from his lunch desk before he left the break room. And for some reason, it oddly stinks of sulfur in here and it's 10 times hotter than it was this morning. But this weird old man won't get out of my head. How would the man know about my brother? And what does he want from me?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16onxto/im_an_er_receptionist_today_i_met_a_patient_who/

nosleep

Temporary_Month_2492

The last party at the Death Rattle

There was a strange club in the hills around Santa Cruz just a few years back. Not strange in the sense of a horrific backstory or sightings of any stray souls, but ordinarily strange: The location didn’t make much sense, the paintjob was hideous, the architecture was nonsense. That kind of thing. It was tucked away behind a thicket of trees on a hillside far away from any homes. The closest sign of civilization was an abandoned construction site at the bottom of the hill – the only indication you were going the right direction – with a winding dirt path that led from the main road to the club. If you showed up after dark, it was almost impossible to find your way in the pitch black of the unlit roads. You had to drive real slow and hope to God nothing happens to your headlights, else you could be stranded until sunrise. I went to the club with a couple friends in late October. It was me, Sam, and Theo – a couple old buddies from high school – and Sam’s new girlfriend, Rachel. I’d been there a few times with Theo and some friends from San Jose State. Sam and Rachel had never been, and they were real eager to check it out. It wasn’t my favorite spot since I really hated driving down that winding road at night. I knew a guy from State who hit an oncoming car late at night, and apparently a friend-of-a-friend went off a road and died after hitting a deer. Normally I’d refuse to go, but Theo said he’d drive and promised me he wouldn’t have a sip of alcohol. So, I agreed. We loaded up in Theo’s truck and headed out. The truck’s size made me nervous, but he managed to take us up the dirt road with practiced precision. The sun was still out, but it was hidden behind the treeline. I was just glad not to be driving. We pulled into the parking lot and the club came into view. It wasn’t really a parking lot, per se – more like a big patch of dirt where people left their cars. It was a Friday night so it was pretty packed, but Theo managed to wedge his truck between a mini sedan covered in stickers and a disheveled RV. The big wooden sign read **Death Rattle** in bold white letters. There were no electric lights outside, no posted hours, not even an **Open** sign. The only clues of activity were a group of people huddled outside smoking cigarettes, and the muffled noise of dance music coming from within. The building was coated with a garish mix of greens, yellows, and pinks seemingly painted by hand. It was beyond wonders how this place managed to become popular. We went through the front doors and were greeted by a narrow hallway that went straight forward. It was unclear what purpose this building once served, if it had ever been anything other than an off-kilter night club. There were a couple doors which looked like maintenance closets, and a staircase that led down to a basement. On the way through the hall, I peered down the stairs and saw it led to a closed door. There was nothing remarkable about it, but I remember wondering if there was another room down there with people hanging out. When I saw it closed, I just assumed it was a storage room or something. The end of the hall opened up into a large room with a sloped ceiling. There were a few doors leading to other parts of the club like bathrooms and dining areas, but this room was the central hub. It started out a normal sized room, but the further you walked away from the hall, the lower the ceiling became until it was just a few feet off the ground. It was a strange thing to behold. There were groups at the end of the room, lying on their stomachs with their drinks next to them, chatting and laughing like drinking under a two-foot-high ceiling was totally normal. It didn’t look particularly comfortable to me. Sam and Rachel laughed with each other when they saw it. They wanted to go to the back of the room. I tried to hide my irritation since I was wearing dark clothes and didn’t want to get them dirty, but I didn’t want to bum anyone out so I went along with it. We got our drinks and crawled to the back of the room where we proceeded to… well, lay there and chat and drink. The music was vibrating the floor, but it’s not like we could dance or anything. We hung there for a while until a guy came up and made small talk. He was a big, bald dude dressed up like the genie from Aladdin. He was asking us if we were having a good time and everything, so I figured he worked there. We humored him a bit and chatted somewhat awkwardly. In a lull in the conversation, he said out of nowhere: “Have you guys been down to the basement yet?” We all looked at each other and one of us said, “No. Why?” “Oh, man,” he replied. “That’s where the real party’s at. They’ve got a blacklight set up and everything.” Me and my friends looked at each other with sort of a shrugging “Sure, why not?” expression. I thought it seemed kinda weird considering the closed door, but Rachel said something like: “Let’s go check it out.” We turned to thank the man for his suggestion, and he was gone. We looked around the room. It was a bit crowded, so for all I know he might have just slipped away when we weren’t paying attention. I figured he was a hype man for a DJ playing downstairs, trying to garner a bigger audience for a friend. We left the sloped room, and this is when things got really strange. At the top of the stairs, I saw the door was open now. This didn’t feel right. I knew the door had been shut because I explicitly wondered what was back there. And from where I stood, there was no sign of any lights. No music or noise seemed to come from below. We went down the stairs and walked through the door. The basement was dark and dank. The walls, floor, and ceiling were bare concrete. There was no music. There was no DJ. There was no audience. There was nobody. Just a rusty bathtub bolted to the floor, a single lightbulb hanging above it, and chains piled around the room. In the back, there was another door. The frame was covered in black duct tape as if someone had sealed it shut. “What the fuck is this shit?” Theo said. “That’s so weird,” Rachel said. “Should we open it?” “I’m not fuckin’ opening it,” I said. “Yeah,” Theo said. “This is a fuckin’ serial killer dungeon. Let’s get out of here.” “I’ll open it,” Sam said. “I’m not scared.” Sam went across the room toward the door. Meanwhile the rest of us were anxiously watching the top of the stairs, waiting for the door to slam shut behind us at any moment. He twisted the doorknob and tried to open it. “It’s stuck,” he said. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, man,” Theo said. Then Sam tugged on the door, and it ripped open. None of us agreed on what happened next. We all saw Sam pull open the door, and we felt air rush out, and we all felt a strange energy push against us like something had been released from the room. The others said they heard someone scream from the inside, but I didn’t hear anything. As soon as the door flung open, there was a loud bang coming from inside, like something had been propped against the door. Sam slammed the door shut and we all sprinted up the stairs and out of the room. When we reached the top of the stairs, we saw the police were busting up the party. I later heard the owner got arrested, but I never saw anything in the news about it. Everybody was milling out, still drinking and smoking and laughing. After that harrowing experience we were all glad to leave. Most people were hanging around the makeshift parking lot. There were people smoking, drinking, and jeering at the police who arrested partygoers for coke and pills and the like. The crowd was sort of just wandering around, and cars left one at a time. There wasn’t much traffic on the dirt path back to the road. I was thankful for this. We all piled into Theo’s truck and headed out. Nobody said a word. Theo gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles and cruised quickly down the dirt path. Sam sat in the back pouring sweat while he stared out the window. Rachel just watched him. It was pitch black outside. I couldn’t see anything past the headlights. My whole body was tense. We turned around a bend, and a deer jumped out in the road ahead of us. It scared the shit out of all of us. Theo tried to swerve around it but he clipped the deer’s hindquarters. The truck went off the road and we all went down the hill. And I remembered the kid who had died just like this. I knew we were done for. At the bottom of the hill, we slammed head-on into a huge tree. The truck was totaled. I barely remember what happened because I took a nasty blow to the head and never really felt right again after that. All of us were hurt real bad, and nobody had seen us go down the hill. The engine died on impact and all our lights were off. But by some miracle, Sam was unscathed. He checked on all of us, then stepped out of the car and promised to trek back up the hill and get help from the police. We were all terrified, but we knew it was our best bet of getting home alive. Moments after Sam stepped out of the car, he said: “Look! Someone’s coming.” I turned as best I could, but I couldn’t see anything in the dark. Sam started talking to the stranger. He came around and looked at us. It was the man in the genie costume. He was horrified by the accident. He checked on each one of us before he said: “Stay here,” he said. “We’re gonna go get help.” Sam and the stranger went back up the hill together. We waited for hours, and nobody came. It wasn’t until morning when somebody found us. A towing service had been taking away all the cars that were left behind, and one of the employees just happened to step away for a smoke break at the bottom of the hill when he spotted us. We got airlifted to the hospital, and we all made a recovery. But Sam was missing. We filed a police report and explained, as best we could, what happened. We told them about the bathtub in the basement. The cop simply told us, “We’ll look into it.” The last time I saw Theo was a few days after the incident. We drove back to the Death Rattle during the day to see if we could get any answers, but the building had been condemned. The doors were padlocked shut. We left without a hint. This was three years ago. We never got a follow up from the police. Sam’s parents are still holding out hope he might show up one day, but everybody else sees the situation for what it is. We fell out of touch with Rachel, and I haven’t talked to Theo since. I can’t help but wonder if Sam might be alive had I been more adamant. Or, perhaps, if I’d been the one to open the black taped door. Maybe Sam would be here and I wouldn’t. So I made a decision. Tomorrow morning I’m going back to the Death Rattle. I’ve bought a pair of bolt cutters, a heavy duty flashlight, and some thick work gloves. I need to know if there’s any sign of what happened to Sam. I know there’s no way he’s alive today. But I’m bringing a six pack so I can pour one out to my last memory of my friend. What do you guys think I should do for my last party at the Death Rattle?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16oy5cw/the_last_party_at_the_death_rattle/

nosleep

408Lurker

Tape 3: Butcher

[Part 2](https://reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/ZjdaGfpKo5) *A man enters a meat market, he looks around for a bit, then he grabs two packets of ground meat, he goes to the checkout counter with the packets in hand.* *At the checkout counter he meets the shop owner.* Man: Hello! Owner: Hi, there! *The owner looks at the two packets of ground meat.* Owner: That'll be 12$! Man: Sure, let me just grab my wallet. Owner: Oh, almost forgot to tell 'ya! I'll be back in just a moment! *The owner turns around and opens a creaky black door, he enters the room and closes the door behind him.* *The man looks confused, but still patiently waits for the owner to return.* *About 5 minutes pass and the owner returns.* Owner: I apologize for the wait, here you go! *The owner gives the man a small packet of minced meat.* Man: Umm, what is this? Owner: Well, we've just opened up this shop, so here's your gift for being one of our first customers! It's a special kind of meat, made from a very rare type of pig, I'd say we're one of the only ones that produce this type of meat! Man: Thank you very much, sir! *The man pays for his order, the owner quickly wraps the three packets of meat in a paper bag and gives it to the man.* *The man slowly exits the shop, he turns around and sees the friendly owner waving him goodbye, but as he looks a bit closer, he sees the owner's eyes are red and full of tears, the owner turns around and once again enters the room behind him.* *The man enters his home, he wastes no time and immediately starts preparing his meal.* *He takes the ground meat out of the two plastic packets. Skillfully, the man forms the ground meat into a couple of patties and begins cooking them on a small portable grill. As soon as the burgers become slightly brown, the man puts them in a couple of buns and eats them, voraciously.* *The man finishes his meal, but he doesn't seem to be fully satisfied, he looks at the small packet of meat that the owner gave him as a gift. The man takes the packet, rips it open and forms it into a small patty, he begins grilling the juicy, crimson patty. As soon as the meat looks fully cooked, he puts it into a bun, and eats it just like the last couple of burgers, but this time the man looks visibly satisfied, he licks his fingers as soon as he finishes the meal.* Man (To himself): Jesus, this is so damn good! *The man cleans up after himself, then takes the small empty packet of meat to the trash can, before throwing it into the trash can, the man freezes in place and looks at the bottom of the packet.* *The man sees something written on the bottom of the packet, in tiny black letters, the word "HELP" is plastered on the bottom of the plastic packet.* *The man scratches his head in confusion, probably wondering if this is some kind of early April Fool's joke.* *After a couple of seconds, the man puts on his shoes and leaves his home.* *The man approaches the same meat market, it has a "Closed" sign on the door, but the front door is not locked and the lights inside are still on. Probably thinking the owner just closed up shop recently, the man enters the shop.* *Before the man can even say "Hello", he is met with a loud squeal coming from the room in the back.* *The squealing continues and gets even louder.* *The man approaches the black door slowly.* *After about three minutes of waiting and listening to the almost deafening piglike squeals, the man's curiousity gets the better of him as he slowly opens the door just enough so he can see what's inside the mysterious room.* *The man is immediately met with a disturbing image.* *He sees the owner of the shop on his knees, he is wearing only his apron and squealing like a pig.* *After a couple of seconds, from the shadows, a large figure emerges.* *The creature that emerges is at least 2.5 feet tall and seems to be morbidly obese, it is wearing a white butcher's uniform with a red apron, the most disturbing feature is it's head, it looks exactly like a pig's head, but the look on it's face is unnervingly human, the rest of it's body looks just like a normal human being's body, although unnaturally bloated.* *The creature moves closer to the owner, it opens it's large mouth and starts vomiting.* *After about ten seconds, the creature stops vomiting and wipes it's mouth with it's apron.* *The owner lunges at the vomit and eats it while grunting like a pig, after just a minute he devours all of it. Not even a moment later, the owner's body swells up, he looks like his weight doubled.* *The creature takes something from the table, it looks like a bag of some sort, then it throws it right next to the owner.* *The owner takes the bag and puts it on his head, as he does, it becomes clear that the object he put on his head is no bag, but instead a makeshift pig mask, the mask has a pink pig nose taped on it and two holes for where the eyes are.* *The owner starts squealing once again, while looking at the disturbing creature.* *The creature grabs a large butcher knife.* *The creature cuts off a piece of flesh from the owner's back and drops it into the meat grinder.* *The owner squeals while the creature holds him down and cuts him once again.* *The man looks like he has been frozen solid, he just stares in disbelief.* *The creature wiggles it's piglike ears and turns to face the man, a large smile forms on it's face as it looks the man in the eyes.* Creature: Looks like you already ate it, good! *The man trembles in fear as the creature grunts.* Creature: Since you're here, there's no need for this one. *The creature averts it's gaze, it looks at the owner and with one quick move, it slices his throat.* *The owner audibly chokes in his own blood.* *As the owner dies, the creature grunts in pleasure and looks at the man once again.* Creature: Come! You'll be a fine replacement! *The man tries to turn around and make a run for it, but before he can, the creature speaks once again.* Creature: Humanus Porcus! *As soon as he hears the creature speak, the man falls to the ground, then he gets up and quickly enters the room.* *The man gets on all fours and starts squealing just like the owner did.* *The massive creature slowly approaches the door and closes it.* *TAPE ENDS* *The last couple of tapes were disturbing, but this one almost made me throw up, I didn't even let the warning play out, instead I took the tape out and threw it back in the box, then I put the next tape in and hit "Play".* *Tape 4: Pigeons, begins.*

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16oqv3s/tape_3_butcher/

nosleep

GeneralP123

I downloaded a ghost app detector the scary results made me move out

Hi, The app read “Would you like to begin” I read it with ease and excitement. Oh but I was horribly wrong by a mile, My name is Jon Velds, 25, I am living with my parents This is My story. Without hesitation I clicked on the “continue” button, then the app showed a prompt it read “How to use iGhost - the lines you will see while ghost detecting is spirits malicious or not it will detect and most important of all proceed with extreme caution” Ok I thought will anything else what” what could possibly go wrong. Late that night I opened up the app on my burner iPhone XS. Soon after I started hearing faint footsteps i thought it was my own mother or father but when I checked they were asleep. I could see they’re integral structure of there body’s like a stickman “Cool I thought” I went to the kitchen afterwards And pointed my back camera at my kitchen and living room. Nothing for a second a mere second until i pointed my camera a bit down it was there a tall blackish whitish slenderly structure, which i assumed the colour because of the lines showed . Now of course I couldn’t see it BUT THEN… it transformed to a straight line, then a quadrupedal figure like a dog or cat much different from the bipedal character it had prior. My neighbours dog could be heard barking through the wall and the fence. then it noclipped through the door and ran outside “HOLY F#CK!NG SH!T A WITCH” - (a skin walker basically) I went to sleep shocked and scared to my core bones, sweat shredded me with fear, but no, the surprise was nothing happened a app glitch I thought the next day while stirring my coffee with a SPOON and sat down thinking while my mum and dad where gone to best buy for a new television. My dinner table or a dining table was big enough for fit 4 persons or 4 people or 4 animals or 4 entities… My chairs moved and fell like a unseen ghost or poltergeist was controlling the chairs. But worst of all one came and appeared out of nowhere, I was already cover in wet sweat shivering violently. it was cleverly placed adjacent to my chair i was sitting on right now through the window i saw it a happy and creepy looking dog. It struck me even more. smiling oddly with a malicious look it terrified my bones shaking even more violently. It turns out the history of house was even more or equally freaky as this experience the pages of the old soggy newspaper read “a… a… dog died here its name Jo - a stray rescued dog from a severe heart attack at the park “Hens burg Reserve” The heart attack was luckily saved by the vet “Lala Per” The dog - Jo later died due to internal bleeding and complications. “It was sad and tragic He could’ve been saved if we noticed earlier” - Emily Carter and Owen Carter, the previous owner wrote via a SMS message to a Telegram group - called Instate-able Real A State Agency of Berlin Germany. But they both later died to due to heart complications Laying heartbroken in there death bed at the hospital. the legend has it a skin walker moved in and magically consumed they’re bodies there grave in unknown, I dismissed the rumours at first but i”m a heavy believer in the supernatural now. And will never forgot this traumatic experience at 31 Petersburg St. Now I’ve moved with my parents The rural/suburban area in the city on Munich Germany. All I’ve heard of about my old address is that 31 Petersburg St is it still remains unoccupied at in wrecks of ruins with the aim of building a motel. I am now a certified skeptic and believer.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16p9jeb/i_downloaded_a_ghost_app_detector_the_scary/

nosleep

stfan420

My parents told me not to follow the light in the water, I didn't listen. Part 4

part 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lmk1j/my\_parents\_told\_me\_not\_to\_follow\_the\_light\_in\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3 Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n9uwf/my\_parents\_told\_me\_not\_to\_follow\_the\_light\_in\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3 part 3: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16o4o4r/my\_parents\_told\_me\_not\_to\_follow\_the\_light\_in\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3 We came upon a house, well, generously a house. It was a shelter, with a roof, and a single broken window. The structure was embellished with bits of garbage and plastic, like ashlar for someone in a state of miserable penury. The ground was a scrim covered in yet more plastic, and bits of broken glass. “Watch where you step” Peter offered. “What is this place?” “It’s where the sea-witch lives” I looked down at a crab struggling to find its way out of a Heineken bottle. I watched as a plastic bag with the words “Thank You” written several times on it float by. Truth be told, my parents were wealthy, so I’d never seen destitution like this. I lived on an island, it’s not as if there were homeless people and drifters loitering about. I’m not even sure I understood what it was that bothered me at the time except for the rank scent of sulfur. That’s hard to enjoy regardless of whichever prejudices you bring to the table. “Go on walk to the door, and give it a good knock” “I don’t want to meet the sea-witch, she’ll tear my skin and eat my bones!” “No, don’t worry about that, she doesn’t eat any children from the land” “But she does eat children?” “Well, if you want to call it that. Look, you probably don’t want to know.” I was feeling a bit braver now “I want to know!” “Okay, they are her kids. She spawns them, and then eats them, as soon as they come out of her.” I had no idea what any of that meant, but I didn’t want to seem dumb to my magic squid friend, so I nodded sagely. I walked to the door, still not entirely comfortable, and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so I knocked again. Peter cavorted in the water waiting for the sea-witch to appear. The door swung open, and I jumped back. There was a woman at the door, she was thin, and wore a large shirt with a stain on it just like the one my father had given me for bedtime. Her hair was ratted, and tangled. Her eyes were sunken in, and she had crooked lines that lined her face. She started coughing, and green phlegm floated in the water. Her arms were covered in scabs, some intact, some broken. She had a voice like rustling packing peanuts. “What the fuck do you want, and who the fuck are you?” The woman asked. “Are you the sea-witch?” I asked in return. “Sea-witch?” She laughed, and coughed again, more phlegm floating into the water. “Look you little shit, I hear all this talk about a God damn sea witch, sailors above the water singing shanties about a fucking sea-witch…” “Shut up, bitch, I’m not done. One time I found a bottle with a letter in it, and there’s a picture of this angry looking octopus thing in it, the fuck? I am a perfectly normal looking woman who just happens to live underwater, and yeah, maybe I don’t look the best, but it’s a fucking recession, nobody looks good right now. Am I a witch? Eh, I dabble, after I killed that sea-corn’s horn I’ve been grinding it up, and using the left over for spells. And also, and don’t tell anyone, for a little fun.” I nodded, though I really wanted to leave. Finally, Peter spoke up. “Sheryl, we’re here about the brownies. The delicious brownies that you made for this guest of honor” “Oh shit, I didn’t even see you, Peter” started the sea-witch. “This son of a bitch, God damn, this motherfucker, damn. You have no idea the kind of trouble we get into. Let me tell you, this little firecracker can put a bottle AWAY.” She laughed “I’ve seen this motherfucker drink a magic crab, and puffer fish under the table, I shit you not. And those puffer fish can drink, they puff, you can imagine. Shit, what’d they call you back in the day, Pete?” Pete declined to answer. “Chug KING” She put a quite a bit of emphasis on the word, “Motherfuckin’ Chug King, that’s my man, Pete. It’s good to see you, and who’s this little shit?” “My name’s Jeremy” I intimated. “Look, yeah. I’ve got brownies. I’m fucking magic, all right, so yeah, come inside. I’ll hook you up.” We walked inside. The walls were covered in flaking paint, barely hanging on to a dilapidated frame. Plastic chairs, the colored ones you see in school rooms, cloistered one of those foldable tables you see at food drives. The legs of everything were dug into the dirt scrim, there was no real floor save for a tattered welcome mat tossed oblique to a wall. But in the center, they were there, brownies. They smelled like chocolate and macadamia; they smelled like love. All of my troubles melted in the scent, wafted away in the current, carried on past the ocean and into the sky, never to burden me again. I couldn’t smell the sulfur anymore, the building was a cathedral, a beatific vision, and the sea-witch its hieratic guardian. “Go on, eat the brownies” Sheryl motioned toward the platter. I grabbed one, it immediately had a soporific effect. The flecks of paint swimming from the wall looked as if they were waving kindly, encouraging the experience I was having. I savored every chew, every crunch, every bit of the chocolatey ambrosia. I was in seventh heaven; I was in cloud cuckoo land floating on a cashmere cloud. Sheryl began to groan. “Ugh uuuuugh. AH FUCK” Sheryl bellowed. I drew my attention to her “What’s going on?” “Motherfuck, I gotta eat, too, and here comes another one.” With that effluvium ejected from below her dress, and out dropped an infant, it’s legs bending, and its head hitting the ground as it crumpled to the floor. It tossed back to and fro, its little baby hands crunched, and its little baby face screaming soon after. Its face was red, and it shook with all the little might it could muster. Sheryl bent down, and picked the child up by the arm, and tossed onto the table. “Peter, get me the baby killing hammer” Wordlessly Peter went to a drawer in the kitchen, and wrapped a tentacle around the handle. The door slid open with a creak and a shake, and Peter reached his tentacle inside. He approached Sheryl with a hammer, a wooden handle, and a steal head. Just a regular hammer. Sheryl smashed the child’s head, and it stopped screaming immediately. There was bone, blood, sinew, and bits of brain as she repeatedly bashed her newborn child’s cranium. “Succulent meat” she averred. She buried her face into the open and skull, and devoured its contents. Slurping and biting, she raised her head for a breath and a cough, blood and dark green phlegm swirling around her like an egg being poached. “Damn good eatin’, too” she laughed. I was horrified and sick, this is all I could take. I fell to the floor, and when I awoke again, Peter said that he had some news for me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16p0idp/my_parents_told_me_not_to_follow_the_light_in_the/

nosleep

jazzgrackle

Behind Closed Doors

I was gasping for air, a cold sweat forming on my forehead as I pushed through the rusty, seemingly forgotten door of apartment 614. I had to find out what was happening. It was the rumbling from behind the walls, the whispers of distraught residents, the mysteries of the towering Oakhaven Apartments that led me here. But this... this was beyond anything I'd imagined. Rewinding to just two weeks prior, I had moved into Oakhaven, lured by the cheap rent and its proximity to downtown. The age-old brick exterior, with ivy creeping up its face, should've been the first warning sign. But like so many, I ignored the omens and listened to my wallet. Late one evening, as I settled into my new apartment on the sixth floor, Ms. Gertrude from 615 knocked, her frail hands trembling. "Have you heard them?" she whispered, eyes darting left and right. "The...noises? Especially from that apartment?" I hadn't, but it didn't take long. That night, as the clock's hands crawled past midnight, a low, haunting hum began to emanate from apartment 614, right next to mine. At first, I chalked it up to faulty plumbing or maybe an old refrigerator. But soon, even the walls seemed to pulsate with a rhythm of their own, a heart beating too loud in the silence. In the following days, I overheard hushed conversations between neighbors, talking about "the previous resident of 614" and "those haunting hours." Curiosity piqued, I reached out to a couple of longer-term residents. Their stories sent shivers down my spine. It was said that many years ago, a man named Albert resided in 614. A recluse, he was rarely seen but often heard — peculiar chants and murmurs accompanied by strange symbols painted on his walls. One night, his chants grew more violent, escalating to a full-blown outburst. The morning after, no one saw him again. The apartment was locked from the inside, and despite multiple attempts, the door couldn't be breached. Over time, it was left alone, a sealed crypt of secrets, but the disturbances continued. Determined to uncover the truth, I began researching about Albert. Old newspapers revealed that he was once a renowned archaeologist, with a particular interest in ancient cults. His last expedition was to a remote temple in South America, after which he returned a changed man. Mid-research, I was jolted by an intense, rhythmic pounding. The noise wasn't coming from any apartment but rather beneath the building itself. The basement. Perhaps that was the key. But there was one problem — residents were strictly forbidden from entering it. A plan began to form in my mind. That night, armed with a flashlight, I made my way to the basement. To my surprise, the door was slightly ajar. The underground space was vast and lined with old wooden beams and brick walls. Cobwebs hung like drapes from the ceiling, and a damp, putrid smell filled the air. My light caught something on the far wall — symbols. The same symbols Albert reportedly painted in 614. Underneath them, a passage leading further down. As I hesitated, a whisper echoed through the space, drawing me in. "Discover... Uncover...". I was in too deep to turn back now. Following the passage, I came upon a door. Pushing it open, my eyes met a sight that would haunt my dreams forever. The room was vast, and at its center stood an ornate stone altar, encrusted with dark stains that told tales of rituals long past. Candle holders, formed in the shape of writhing serpents, adorned its corners, their wicks long extinguished. The walls were adorned with more of those cryptic symbols, but now intertwined with disturbing sketches of disfigured humans in states of anguish and despair. As the shock subsided, a shuffling sound reached my ears, originating from the shadows in the corner of the room. I reluctantly aimed my flashlight, and the beam unveiled a hunched figure, scribbling fervently on the floor. His back to me, I could see his skeletal frame, clothes tattered and hair a wild mess. The realization hit like a punch to the gut. It was Albert. He stopped abruptly, his head tilting ever so slightly as if sensing my presence. Then, with a chilling slowness, he turned to face me. His eyes were not those of a sane man but of someone lost to a dark abyss. "You shouldn't be here," he rasped, voice filled with a mix of warning and despair. Trying to muster any courage, I replied, "I had to know the truth, Albert. About the noises, the symbols, about you." He let out a heart-wrenching sigh. "They called to me from the temple... The old gods, forgotten by time. They promised knowledge and power, but they take more than they give." The room grew colder. The shadows seemed to stretch and twist, reaching out for me. Panic surged through my veins. I had to get out, but Albert's story, his warning, kept me rooted. "They're bound to this place now, through me. Through my foolishness." He gestured to the symbols around us. "I tried to contain them, to lock them here with these wards, but they demand more. They thirst." His hollow gaze met mine, filled with both torment and a plea for understanding. "Each night, they try to break free. Each night, I hold them back. But it weakens me." I knew then that the disturbances, the haunting hums, the chilling vibes of Oakhaven weren't just remnants of Albert's dark past but an ongoing battle between him and these ancient deities. Suddenly, a deafening roar erupted from the very walls, making the room tremble. Albert's face contorted in pain as he clutched his head. "They're coming!" he shrieked. A blinding light emanated from the altar, illuminating grotesque, shadowy figures emerging from the walls, their distorted forms menacing and horrifying. The room was filling with them, and their intent was clear. I had to act. Recalling the symbols I'd seen both in Albert's apartment and the basement walls, I frantically began drawing them around us with the chalk Albert had dropped. As the last symbol connected, a barrier seemed to form, and the figures were pushed back, their twisted faces filled with rage. "They can't be held for long," Albert gasped. "You need to leave. Warn the residents. And whatever you do, never let anyone enter this place again." His words were a stark contrast to the sense of impending doom that filled the room. But I knew he was right. Without another word, I turned and raced back the way I came, the haunting cries of the old gods echoing behind me. The hallways of Oakhaven felt longer and more twisted than ever. Each step echoed with urgency, but also with the weight of the knowledge I now bore. The silence of the night was pierced by the distant and haunting hum emanating from the depths below, growing in intensity. I emerged from the basement, locking the door behind me. There was no time to lose. Mrs. Gertrude, awakened by the noise, met me in the hallway, her eyes widened in a mix of confusion and fear. "What happened? What did you find?" "Gather everyone," I panted, "Meet in the lobby. NOW." People filled the lobby in varying states of sleepiness, confusion, and concern. The building's murmurs, paired with Albert's harrowing revelations, had everyone on edge. Faces looked to me expectantly, some with skepticism, some with dawning realization. "I know it's hard to believe," I began, "but Oakhaven is more than just a building. It's a prison - a seal holding back ancient, malevolent beings. We must evacuate and ensure no one ever enters the basement again." Murmurs spread throughout the crowd. Some nodded, having experienced enough to believe. Others were skeptical, thinking it a prank or delusion. But as if on cue, a resounding crash echoed from the basement door, followed by an otherworldly growl that silenced any doubters. The building quaked, lights flickering, as shadowy tendrils began seeping through the floor, the very fabric of Oakhaven under attack. "We need to leave NOW!" I shouted. Panic set in, residents scrambling for the exits. As we made our way out, a memory flashed in my mind: a tome in Albert's research about symbols of protection. With a piece of chalk — salvaged from the basement — I began drawing one of the symbols on the main entrance, hoping to buy us more time. Outside, we watched in horrified awe as Oakhaven's facade distorted, windows shattering and walls warping. The building seemed to be imploding, drawn in by the dark force within. Moments felt like hours, but eventually, the chaos subsided. Oakhaven stood, though forever changed — its windows dark, its structure twisted, an eternal testament to the battle waged within. Word spread about the horrors of Oakhaven, and it was soon cordoned off. Authorities dismissed the event as a minor earthquake, but we knew better. We formed a pact, each resident vowing to guard the secret, ensuring no one would ever attempt to uncover the darkness sealed within. Life moved on, but memories lingered. Every time I'd pass the now-abandoned Oakhaven, a cold shiver would run down my spine, remembering the night we faced the unfathomable. While most of us relocated and tried to forget, one thing remained clear: some doors, no matter how enticing the mysteries behind them, are meant to remain closed.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16p2dgv/behind_closed_doors/

nosleep

Carbodex

There’s Something in My Son’s Bedroom, and It’s Watching!

I’ll preface this entire account by saying I’m a single dad with a 6-month-old baby boy, Eddie. It’s hard dealing with him on my own and trying to come to terms with the grief I’ve been feeling since my wife Selina died. We were so happy when we found out that we were expecting. Everything was going really well with the pregnancy and we were both excited to meet little Eddie. But there were complications with the birth. The doctors tried their hardest but they ultimately told us that it came down to being able to save either Selina or Eddie. She chose Eddie. As much as I love my son, I still miss her more than anything. My world’s been turned upside down and I could really do with her here right now to help me through it. But I’m still trying the best I can for the sake of our son. We’ve had to move out of our home into a smaller apartment building. Currently, I’m looking after Eddie full time so at the moment I’ve been struggling to make any money for us. We’ve been living on the proceeds from selling our old home, as much as it pained me to do so. I’ve been doing the odd jobs on the side too, freelance writing stuff where I can work from my laptop so I don't need to leave Eddie. It doesn't pay as much but it’s still something, better than nothing. As hard as things are, that’s not the reason I’m writing this. Everything was slowly moving along and I was just about coping until last week. Last week marked the time that Eddie turned 6 months old. He was coming along really well, he could now roll onto his front and watch me as I went about the chores in the house or made his bottles. He was also sleeping 8 hours at night now which was a godsend. So I decided it was time for him to have his own room, that way he would get used to sleeping on his own and I would be able to sleep better without worrying if he was breathing every few minutes. A part of me was a little sad as I assembled the cot in our former spare room, what would now be Eddie’s room. His room was a bit smaller than mine but it still had a lot of space for him when he got older. It even had a built-in closet that was sunken into the wall, with two slatted doors held together by a small metal hook and loop. That would be perfect to store all of his baby clothes in as he grew up without eating into his room to play. In the rest of his room, I had set up his cot, a changing table with all of his diapers and wipes, a toy chest filled to bursting with all of the toys he’d been given throughout his 6 months of life, and a small chair that I could sit in so that I could read him his bedtime stories. I’d painted the whole thing a light blue colour and painted shapes of clouds in different places to give him the impression that he was flying in the sky. I was quite proud of it, to be honest. Night came and I carried Eddie into his new room in my arms, filled with a sense of pride that he was coming along so well, but also a sense of unease that I think all parents must get at this point. Sitting down in the chair, I gave him his nighttime bottle of milk while reading him a story. I could see his little eyelids start to droop as he drained the bottle, and before I’d even finished the story he was out for the count. Slowly, I got up and walked over to Eddie’s cot, gently lowering him so as not to wake him from whatever dreams he was having. He looked so peaceful there, in his big boy cot in his own room. I turned on the baby monitor I’d been given by a friend and sneaked to the door, trying to avoid making any noise that might wake my son and mean that I’d need to spend the rest of the night trying to get him back off to sleep. As I was about to walk out of the door, I stopped and turned around, taking one last look at my child before leaving and closing the door. I didn’t hear a peep out of Eddie that night, I went in to check on him a few times, paranoia eating at me, but he was sound asleep. I felt a little lost. After watching a film in the living room I decided to check on Eddie one last time before I called it a night. Poking my head around the door I could see him in his cot, but something was different. A sense of unease gripped me as I noticed he was the wrong way around. I’d placed him in with his head facing the wall without the closet, but now he was facing the other way so that he would be looking at the closet if he were awake. He must have turned himself around in his sleep, I thought, reassuring myself that it was a normal occurrence. He had never done this before, but he was at the age where they’re doing new things every few days so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for him to have moved on his own. I entered the room to re-position him, and immediately I felt an odd coolness in the air. It hadn't been this cold when I put him down to sleep. The heating in this apartment wasn't the best, so I assumed the radiator in this room was faulty. There was an odd smell too, like a lavender perfume. It must have been seeping in through the vents from one of the other apartments. I’ll take a look in the morning I thought. I’d turn Eddie around and get him a blanket to keep him warm I thought to myself. As I turned towards the closet, there was another sight which made that uneasy feeling in my spine rear its head. Why was the closet latch undone? Had I left it that way when I’d put Eddie to bed? I was convinced I’d returned the latch to its original place after I’d got out his sleep suit, but now it stood unlatched with the door slightly ajar. I pulled it fully open, still feeling uneasy, but I was met with nothing but the same old closet, the piles of clothes in the exact same places that I’d left them. Shaking this off as my mind worrying about Eddie being on his own for the first time, I grabbed a spare blanket from the closet before closing it and putting the latch back on again. I turned Eddie around, wrapping him in the new blanket so that he would be warm enough, checking he was sleeping soundly and giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead before sneaking out again silently. Exhausted, I lay down on my bed and let sleep wash over me like a dark wave. I don’t know how long I’d been asleep for, but I was roused from my slumber by a sound I couldn't place. It seemed to be emanating from the baby monitor that was sitting on my bedside table. Immediately I sat bolt upright, wide awake assuming that Eddie was in trouble. The sound coming through was faint, so much so that I had to hold it to my ear to make anything out. Much to my surprise, I wasn't met with the crying of my 6-month-old as I was expecting. The noise coming through the monitors sounded more like whispering. Hushed words were being spoken softly, so quietly that I couldn't make out. It was a little unsettling, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Was there someone in there with him? I turned the monitor off, hoping that it was some kind of static malfunction or interference from another monitor in the apartment complex. When I flicked the switch and the monitor came back on I was met with nothing but the hum of ambient noise from Eddie's room. I breathed a sigh of relief. Satisfied that Eddie was fine and that the old monitor was on its way out, my heart rate slowed back down to reasonable levels and I became more aware of my surroundings. That cold that I’d felt in Eddie’s room had seemed to now be present in my room too, another radiator down. I tried to go back to sleep, pulling the covers tightly around me. It took me a while but eventually, I managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep. I was awoken the next morning by the sounds of Eddie crying through the baby monitor. Checking my watch I noticed he’d made it through the entire night without waking up. I was filled with a sense of pride with my little man. It was enough to make me forget about the strange happenings of last night. I prepared Eddie’s bottle in the kitchen and made my way into his room. “Good morning little man,” I said in my happiest voice as I pushed the door open. Eddie was in his cot, crying. He was facing the other way, he’d turned around again. It was a little disconcerting, but if he knew how to do that now I’d best get used to it. I was about to pick him up and give him his bottle when my eye was drawn to the closet door. It was ajar again, the latch hanging loosely. I’d definitely closed it that second time. I sighed to myself. I know this is a cheap apartment but does nothing work? Yet another thing I’d have to sort out. I picked Eddie up and took him into the living room where we continued about our day as normal. We went shopping and I took him for a stroll around the local park. He loved being out in the fresh air, just like his mother. I had a look at the radiators in mine and Eddie’s rooms but I couldn't see anything glaringly obvious with them that would cause them not to work so I reported it to our landlord. He said that he would get a plumber to take a look as soon as he could but it might be in a few days. I was annoyed but what could I do? I also took a look at the latch but couldn't figure out how it was coming undone. It didn't look like anything was broken so I assumed it must just be due to the age of the thing. I’d go out and get another one tomorrow, but in the meantime, I would just prop something against it so that it wouldn't open. Soon it was getting dark again and nearing Eddie’s bedtime. We went through our nightly routine of bottle and story time as normal and I could see his eyelids starting to droop. Scooping him up, I gently placed him in his cot again and kissed his forehead, facing away from the closet, and covered him in his blankets. As I turned to leave, I placed the bag I used to carry Eddie’s things around in front of the closet door to keep it shut. I played video games for a couple of hours after that, all the while one ear was on the monitor, listening for Eddie. After a while, I could feel the exhaustion of the day catching up with me and I made my way to my bedroom. The apartment was silent as I got into bed. I sat there, reading for a bit before surrendering to sleep. I awoke in darkness again, my ears filled with a soft whispering from the baby monitor. It was louder than before, still not loud enough to make out words, but loud enough for me to make out the tone of the voice. It was an older voice, feminine. It was cooing and occasionally giggling. Exasperated that I’d been woken up by the same interference as last night I reached for the monitor to turn it off and back on again and reset it. As I flicked the switch to turn it back on, my blood ran cold. I could still hear it, that voice. Exactly the same as before. There was someone in Eddie’s room. I jumped to my feet and practically sprinted to Eddie’s room, my heart pounding in my chest. How had someone gotten in? What were they doing to him? Either way, they’re going to wish they’d left my son alone. The whispers grew louder as I approached Eddie’s door. I charged into Eddie’s room, slamming the door as I did so. I looked around wildly, ready for a confrontation, searching for whoever was making the noises I’d heard in the baby monitor. There was no one there, there were no noises too. Only Eddie, facing the wrong way again. He started crying, I must have scared him as I slammed the door open. The feeling of rage immediately dissipated as Eddie’s cries met my ears and I ran to him, scooping him up to comfort him. As I made my way over to my chair to sit with him and calm him all sorts of thoughts raced around in my head. What was happening? There was definitely a voice, where were they? I sat there rocking Eddie, trying to coax him back to sleep. It was freezing in the room now, I thought to myself. The smell of lavender perfume was there too. I was contemplating this when I noticed the bag by the closet door. It wasn't where I’d left it, it was to the side of the door which now stood ajar again, the latch hanging limply. The rage flashed back. There, I thought. They’re hiding in his closet. Gently putting Eddie back into his cot, I placed my one hand on the closet door, my other hand preemptively balled into a fist, ready to show whoever was in my son’s room that this was the wrong child to mess with. Swinging the door back violently and yelling, a cold shiver ran down my spine. It was empty, there was no one in the closet, It was the same as the room, quiet and empty. I couldn't be imagining this, it’s happened twice in a row. I sat in the chair in Eddie’s room, not wanting to leave him again just in case. I know I’d not seen anything, but there was just this underlying sense that something was off. Maybe it was static or interference like I’d first thought. I’ll get a new baby monitor tomorrow, I thought, maybe one of the ones with a camera, that way I won’t scare my boy again unnecessarily. I did that the very next day. Me and Eddie went to the store where I get most of Eddie’s things from and bought a new monitor. It wasn't exactly top of the line, I couldn't afford that, but it was better than the one I had, and the guy behind the counter assured me that as it went over the internet it shouldn't pick up any interference from other baby monitors in the apartment complex. You can even get it to send alerts to your phone if it hears noises, he explained. While I was out I also headed to our local hardware store to grab a new latch for that closet. As soon as I got back I took Eddie into his room and placed him on his playmat for some tummy time. Meanwhile, I got to work setting up his new monitor. It was surprisingly easy, and within minutes I’d got it working. Testing it with my phone I could clearly see Eddie on his mat and me sat there next to him. I could even hear the gurgling chuckles he was making to himself, as clearly through the phone as they were to my ears. That was one job down. I got to work replacing the latch on the closet as Eddie busied himself with his reflection in one of the mirrors on his playmat. Within a few minutes, I’d removed the old latch and had the new one set in place and working. It was sturdier than the old one, and it didn't budge when I rattled the door to check. Please with myself, me and Eddie carried on our day as normal. I was actually looking forward to bedtime today, a bedtime with no disturbances from faulty monitors. I put Eddie to bed as usual, then went about my night. Before long I could feel sleep calling to me, so I made my way to my room and prepared myself for the best sleep I’d had in days. I was dragged from a particularly nice dream about winning an Oscar by an odd, incessant beeping noise. Bleary eyed I reached for the source of the sound. My hand found it and brought it to my face. My phone. Unlocking the screen I was met with a single notification, plastered across the top of the screen in red letters. “Sound Detected By Camera 1” Snapping out of my half-asleep stupor, I shakily unlocked the phone. This couldn't be happening again, not with this new monitor. I opened the app and clicked to show the feed from Camera 1, dreading what I would see. I froze in place, all of the blood drained from my face as the camera connected, speakers first, and I could hear that same whispering again, shushing and giggling like the night before. It wasn't interference. Then the video feed connected. I can't get the image it showed me out of my head, I nearly screamed. The camera showed a wide shot of Eddie’s room, very clearly in black and white from the night vision setting. I could see clearly that the closet door was wide open now, even though I’d replaced the latch and made sure it was firmly shut. But it wasn't this that inspired such fear in me, it was the thing that was leaning over Eddie’s cot. Stretched over Eddie, clad in a very old-looking black dress with thin wispy white hair and spindly gnarled fingers was what I assumed to be an old woman. I couldn't make out her face. Her head was wrapped in a black shawl which covered most of her features and she was facing away from the camera. But she was leaning over Eddie, cooing to him and giggling, dangling her wizened fingers over him. There was something unnerving about the way that she moved. Her movements seemed too precise and coordinated for someone of her age, she looked like she must have been at least 90. They were soft…controlled, not the slow and shaky way that people that age seem to move with. Nausea welled up in my stomach as she slowly and carefully reached down to pick up my son. Her spindly fingers wrapped around him and she seemed to pull him close in a wretched embrace, cradling him in her arms. All I could imagine was her pulling his poor defenceless form close before running for the window, taking him from me forever. I dropped the phone and charged towards Eddie’s room. There was no way I was going to let this old woman steal my son. How had she been getting in? I didn't care, I just needed to get in there, to get him away from her. I charged through Eddie’s door again, like the night before, ready to save him from the grip of this aged abductor. As I spun around to face where she was in the feed… There was nothing there. The room was empty again, and freezing. The smell of that lavender perfume was strong in the air. Eddie was awake. The wrong way around in his cot, cooing and giggling, looking at the closet. The door was wide open just like I’d seen on the camera. She must have hidden in there when she heard me running down the hall. Barely containing my anger, I made my way over to it, shouting for her to make her way out or there’d be trouble. I was met with no response. Flinging the door back in a rage, I was met with….nothing….again. I’d seen her, she was definitely in here, where could she possibly have gone? I started moving Eddie’s clothes around in the closet, in case she was hiding behind a large stack of them. Much to my dismay there was nothing. I was about to give up my search when I noticed something. Sticking out from under a pile of Eddie’s pyjamas, was a thick, black shawl, just like the one she’d been wearing. There was no other trace of her. I tried to pick it up, but as my fingers closed around it, it crumbled away, filling the closet with the stench of that lavender perfume. I’d had enough. I didn't know what was happening but I wasn't going to stand for it. There was someone here and they wanted my son. There’s no way I was going to let that happen. Scooping up Eddie, I made my way back into my room. I set up the old Moses basket that he used to sleep in by the side of my bed and placed him in it before barricading the door with a chair. There was no way anyone was getting in here, even if they broke into Eddie’s room. I’d call the police in the morning and they’d find whoever did this, I’d get them to stake out the apartment if they had to. Eddie fell to sleep straight away, not registering the events of the night, but sleep eluded me. I forced myself to stay awake in case anyone tried to take my son again. Sitting there in the near darkness, I kept my ears pricked for any sound that might indicate another person in the house. My nerves were completely shot at this point, so when the obnoxious beeping noise from my phone started I nearly jumped out of my skin. Shakily reaching for it, I dreaded what would be there spread across my screen, although a part of me already seemed to know. “Sound Detected By Camera 1” was sprawled across the top of the screen in those ominous red letters I’d seen earlier in the night. Eddie was in my room with me and there should have been no one else in the house. The old woman might have left her hiding place now, maybe she’d made a noise that the camera had picked up? With a trembling finger, I tapped the notification, needing to know where the old woman was getting into and out of the room from. The app opened the same as before, the sound loading first, filling the room with that strange whispering again. Only this time it seemed different, off. Rather than the cooing whispering I’d heard for the past couple of nights, this sounded like a mix of sobbing and anger. This was more unnerving than the whispering, it sounded almost desperate. Then the video feed loaded in and I could make out Eddie’s room again clearly. The closet door was wide open again and the old woman was standing there in the centre of his room, staring at the empty cot. She seemed different this time though. She still had her back to the camera, but I could clearly make out her aged hands. They were elongated, reaching further than any human hands should, ending in long black fingernails. Her skin was a mottled grey colour and I could see black veins snaking their way from her hands up into her black dress. She wasn't wearing the shawl anymore, her ghost-white hair visible at the top of her head. She stood there, twitching, her arms and shoulders jerking at odd angles, she seemed almost like she was vibrating slightly. She was whispering to herself in that odd, desperate tone. Occasionally she would throw her head back in a cry. Just what the hell was happening? Then, almost as though she could sense me watching her through the monitor, she slowly spun herself around, her legs moving in an erratic jerking motion. When her body finally stopped contorting I nearly screamed. I could clearly make out that face now, it was the same pale grey colour as the elongated fingers I’d seen before she turned around. It was also lined with the same thick black veins that snaked their way across her face and under her scalp. She was staring at me through the feed, her eyes fixed on the camera, although it felt like she was looking directly into me. Her eyes were pitch black, the same colour as the veins running all over her. They were like shark's eyes. Slowly, she pulled back her lips into a terrifying grin, revealing several rows of yellow serrated teeth lining her mouth. Black ichor dripped from her mouth, flowing down her jaw and staining the front of her tattered black dress. I was terrified, I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest. This thing, it had been in Eddie’s room the entire time he’d been in there. I’d left him there, left him in danger. I shuddered to think what would have happened if I hadn't gotten this new baby monitor. Her face contorted again, this time into a mask of rage, and I could feel the immense hatred coming from behind those empty black eyes. Her jaw began to descend, leaking more black ichor and she let out a horrific scream that sounded like the word “Eeedddddiiiieeeeee” before the feed went black and was replaced with static. I’d heard it through the wall too, and almost felt it. I sat there staring at my phone, watching the static flashing across the screen. I was numb. What the hell was that? Whatever it was, it wanted Eddie and now it was angry. I looked at my son, a feeling of fear for him, for his safety, and a feeling that I would do whatever it took to keep him safe filled me. The static on my phone cleared and I could now clearly see Eddie’s room again. It was completely empty, everything was where it should have been. The closet door was also shut tight. I didn't hear anything at all, the house was quiet again. Suddenly the handle of my bedroom door turned and the door was pushed before slamming into my makeshift barricade. It rattled back and forth angrily, violently slamming into the chair, trying to move it, all the while I could hear that same shout. “Eeeeedddiiiieeee!!”. I couldn’t move, I was wide-eyed with fear. This couldn't be happening. The stench of lavender filled the room, but it wasn't the sickly sweet smell like normal, it was near rancid, as though it had aged and decayed. I didn't take my eyes off of Eddie from that point. Not until the sun started rising and the banging at the door disappeared with it. My mind was broken, I couldn’t think straight. All I could think was that we needed to get out of here. It wasn't safe. Eddie started stirring for his morning bottle. Gingerly opening the door, I crept with him into the kitchen and prepared it for him, all the while listening out for signs of noises from his room. There was nothing but silence. I knew we needed to get out of there, it wasn't safe for Eddie and I had no idea how to protect him from whatever was in that room. Mustering up as much courage as I could, I made my way into his room to grab the essentials that we would need. The smell of that lavender perfume was almost suffocating now. The room was still cold too. I ran in, throwing the closet door open and grabbing as many of his clothes as I could, stuffing them into an overnight bag. As I was frantically moving the clothes, I couldn't help feeling like I was being watched. Like there were a pair of dead, black eyes drilling into me. Once I’d got what I needed I ran from the room, slamming the door behind me. Scooping up Eddie, I got into my car and drove to my parent's house. I’m still there now, I don't know what to do. I can’t go back there, it’s not safe for me or Eddie. I just hope that she doesn't know where we’ve gone.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16or8sc/theres_something_in_my_sons_bedroom_and_its/

nosleep

DantesGhost92

Something is wrong with my mom...

Recently I found myself in a state of desperation, forced to return to my childhood home after losing my apartment due to some bad financial decisions. It was meant to be a temporary arrangement, a few days until I got back on my feet. Little did I know, those nights would become a haunting experience I would never forget. During the day, my mother seemed like her usual self. Warm and caring, she went about her daily routine, offering me comfort in a time of need. But as the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness enveloped the house, an eerie transformation took place. It was around 3 or 4 am every night when I would abruptly awaken, my senses alert to the strange happenings within the house. I would find my mother engaged in odd activities, muttering to herself as she obsessively cleaned every surface. Her eyes held a distant, vacant stare that sent shivers down my spine. Other nights, she would wander aimlessly through the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps echoing like whispers in the night. Yet, the most chilling encounter occurred one fateful night. Stirred from my sleep at the usual hour, I peeled my eyes open to witness a sight that would forever haunt me. There, outside my window, stood my mother, staring at me with a grin so wide and unsettling that it seemed to stretch the limits of her face. Her hands pressed against the glass, leaving smudges as a testament to her presence. I called out to her, my voice trembling, but she remained motionless, unresponsive to my pleas. Fear gripped me like a vice, and in a desperate attempt to escape the escalating terror, I decided to leave the house and go for a drive. The night air provided a temporary respite, offering a fleeting distraction from the horrors that unfolded within those familiar walls. Eventually, I returned home, exhausted and hoping that the light of day would dispel the shadows of the night. As I stepped through the threshold, a profound silence greeted me. It was then that I discovered my mother, peacefully nestled in her bed, seemingly undisturbed. Confusion mingled with the lingering unease, leaving me to question my own sanity. Morning arrived, and with it, the need to confront my mother about the night's events. I cautiously broached the subject, hoping for answers. But to my astonishment, she appeared genuinely perplexed, her eyes filled with genuine concern. She had no recollection of standing outside my window or anything that transpired during those haunting hours. Her innocence seemed undeniable, yet the chilling memories refused to fade. I attempted to convince myself that it was just a bizarre sleepwalking habit, a manifestation of her subconscious mind. But the uneasy feeling persisted, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. The line between reality and nightmare had blurred, leaving me trapped in a sinister dance with the unknown. With each passing night, I found myself dreading the hour when darkness reigned supreme. The veil of normalcy my mother wore during the day became a façade that concealed a deeper, unsettling truth. And as the days turned into weeks, I questioned whether I could ever find solace within those walls again or if I would forever be trapped in a twisted labyrinth of fear and uncertainty.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16opewf/something_is_wrong_with_my_mom/

nosleep

Healthy-Zebra-259

Pocket Change of a Monster Hunter: Devil's Lullaby

Read the last entry here: https://reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/oi3E1CWrYn Hello Everyone, Victoria signing in. As quite a few people saw my group's last publication, the story if you will, so I have now returned to share another one today. Last time we discussed a case of a singular creature bringing misery to a lone family. Contrary to this, today we will be taking a look at the catastrophic demise of an entire German town in the year 2008. On the 20th of June 2008, the town [private information] was stripped of all human life. On all official records, there is no evidence regarding this but there is a voice recording that was recovered from the ruins of the city. A single man thought it to be a worthwhile idea to document the downfall of his home. That man's name was Nathan G. While Mr. G., unfortunately, didn't survive the ordeal, his voice has. So now following are the last wows of a doomed man toward his home. Fully translated from German to English for easier reading. June 1st, 2008: Hello to whoever finds this. [private information], the town I live in will probably have perished and me alongside it. Worry not, I have made peace with my situation. Oh, I guess I should introduce myself. I am Prof. Dr. Nathan G. and I am a teacher of anthropology at the University of [private information]. *Audible drinking of water and clearing of throat* Excuse me, all of this is getting to me quite a bit. Now the reason all of this is being recorded is that a strange illness has befallen my hometown. By this, I do not mean to describe an illness of the physical health nor one that befalls one's mind in the classical sense. Sin has held a victory march into everyone's home and nobody does anything about it. It all started with the appearance of a musician from a faraway part of Germany. A flutist, supposedly world famous, wishing to give concerts in our little backwater city. I had a bad feeling right away but no one ever listens to me. Last night the stranger held his first show and it was horrific. In the beginning, it was as any good show should be, people dancing, drinking, losing themselves in the music. The weirdness didn't take very long to start because after a short while the crowd's temperament started to shift. The dancers got more and more excited, starting to tear off each other's clothes and violently making love. Each new song escalated their behaviour further until eventually, it was a writhing mass of intertwined flesh and blood. Unable to bear witness to it any longer I fled the scene. Furthermore, when I went out for groceries this morning everyone seemed to stare at me. June 13th 2008: Things have gotten drastically worse since my first recording. Not only has that damned piper been spreading his ungodly tunes every night since the start of the month, no the entire town feels like a giant powder keg. Everyone's general willingness for violence has gone up to a frightening degree. Just this morning two young men got into a fight over bumping into each other. It was horrific. One guy lost both his eyes and lips. The other guy would have straight-up torn him to shreds if the police hadn't shown up. However, that is where it got worse as instead of trying to talk to them they just shot them both. While everyone else just quietly gathered around, staring with a hungry look in their eyes as if they were just waiting their turn. June 17th, 2008: *Sound of a man sobbing* Oh dear God, oh Lord, the end times are upon us. When I left my house today I saw my neighbors violating the corpse of a man from one street over. It was not the only case of depravity I witnessed as the local butcher was cutting up people he had scraped off the street, the Doctor was opening up living children for everyone's viewing pleasure and so much more. The town's temper is feverish and violent. I fear that it's going to collapse in on itself any day now. The only ray of light is that the 20th with hold the Piper's last concert here, titled "Repayment". Maybe after that, it will all be over and all those fallen to sin will find their senses again. June 20th, 2008: Oh my Lord Jesus Christ, I beg of you to save your lost son from this hell fallen on earth. I resisted the devil's lullaby, I alone did. All the others are gone, swallowed up by the maw of the abyss. During the concert today a mass of rats sprang forth from every hole and crevice, no matter how impossibly slim or small, making their way to the dancing folk. And oh did they dance. More manic and crazy with every single note escaping the tempter's flute. Round and round, faster and faster, wilder and wilder. And the rats piled up around them like a swelling tide, casting a shadow on the psychotic mass. Higher and higher they rose until they were like a wave mighty enough to crush buildings. And with the piper's last song ending they collapsed on the crowd with the sound of screams and crunching bones. Meat being ripped and torn, blood being gulped up, and yells of panic, fear, and ecstasy drowned out by the furry flood. I now sit here in the space where hundreds of people just celebrated and have nothing to prove what happened. Not a single piece of anyone remains. *The sound of footsteps, followed by a smooth, almost hypnotic voice* Oh foolish creature, unable to enjoy my wonderful song. May your words be your legacy and you one of my many mouths. And you who bear witness to this at this very moment at any point in the future, know that I can see you. Know that one day even your time is up. With that today's document reaches its end. I hope your eyes will be more vigilant and your ears filled with more suspicion toward music that sounds too heavenly to be real. Loving, Victoria.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16p2cew/pocket_change_of_a_monster_hunter_devils_lullaby/

nosleep

No_Currency8629

The Social Media Crush Gone Wrong

I just want to say when this all happened I was eighteen, and I was young, innocent and naive. Now that I’m in my mid twenties I would never let this happen again. It was my freshman year at college and as could one imagine I was excited to be on my own for once in my life. So excited to be on my own I decided I was going to take summer classes on campus. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about coming in when the big crowd of freshman came and I would also already know where everything was. Plus it meant I could get away from my parents faster. But mainly all I could think about was boys. You see I had never dated anyone through highschool, so I thought I would find my one true love at college. Because of course, that’s what all the movies told me anyways. About two weeks go by and me and one of my roommates (I had four) were hanging out in the lounge area showing off pictures from Instagram of our friends,family, ect... Well my roommate (I’ll call her Tracy) showed me a picture of her and these two guys. One of the guys was Tracy’s boyfriend, and the other was Tracy’s boyfriends best friend (I’ll call him Sean) Now Sean was very attractive and I told Tracy that he was hot. And she told me that he went to the tech college near us and he was single. Now a day or two goes by after this and she tells me she told Sean that I was interested in him and he wanted to know if he could follow me on Instagram so he could Dm me. And at the time I trusted Tracy because she seemed like a cool chill girl, so I excitedly told her yes. I wish I never told her yes... I talked to Sean for about a week before I was comfortable enough to give him my phone number. At first he seemed super sweet. He would always send me a text message in the mornings, telling me to have a good day at class and he couldn’t wait to face time me that night. And we would face time EVERY night. At first I loved it because I never had a boy give me so much attention, and like I said before I had never dated anyone so I was just over the moon that he was even interested enough in me to talk to me. But it started to get annoying. He would text me almost every second of the day and try to face time me at least four times. When I wouldn’t respond to him he would ask if I was okay, why wasn’t I answering him, if I was seeing another guy. If I was seeing another guy it would make him really mad if I was. I of course once seeing the messages would try to reassure him I was okay and I wasn’t seeing anyone. Like I said In the beginning, I was young and naive. So I didn’t see it as a red flag. Things kept going downhill though. It came to a point were he started asking for pictures of me. Either just selfies or pictures of me in the mirror. I wouldn’t send them though because I wasn’t comfortable. And he would brush it off saying that was fine and I could send him pictures of myself to him whenever I was ready. One day I was in class for a long time because it was a lab, and it started at 7:00pm and wouldn’t end until 10:00pm that night . For those of you who don’t know labs in college can last from 2-4 hours and mine just happened to be 3 hours that night. Once class ended I headed up to my dorm and took out my phone. I clicked the button on the side lighting up the screen. I had 380 unread text, 10 miss calls, and three voice mails from Sean. Before I could even react or even read all the messages my phone started to ring. Instead of being Sean it was my dad. He had called me to make sure I was alright because he got an alert from the phone company that I had gotten all those messages(I was still on his phone plan). I don’t know why but I lied to him and laughed it off. Saying that I was just in a group chat with a bunch of girls from school. Once I got off the phone with my dad I quickily went to look at the messages I had gotten. Most of them were demanding why I wasn’t answering him and he would come and find me if I didn’t answer him. The voicemails were crude and mostly of him saying how he was going to find me, and when he did he was going to punish me for not answering him. After this I just completely blocked him on everything I could think of. Completely freaked out about the whole thing. About a week goes by and I start to slowly forget about the incident trying not to think much about it. At least that what I was trying to do. That whole week I felt like someone was watching me. But I brushed it off as me being paranoid. At the end of the week my roommate Tracy (who I had been avoiding) comes up to me shouting at me saying how I broke Sean’s heart and he had called her crying saying he didn’t understand why I stopped talking to him. I couldn’t even get a word in because of how fast she was talking. She finally called me a self centered bitched and walked away. I went to class right after that not realizing I forgot to lock my dorm room. You see I lived with four girls and each girl had there own room which would lock from the outside with a key. Well when I came back from class I noticed my door was cracked opened slightly. My heart dropped into my stomach. I hesitated going in, my hands were shaking terribly. But I finally got the nerve to push it open.... Nothing... there was nothing out of place it seemed. Even though there was nothing out of place I could have sworn I closed the door before Leaving for class. Though I don’t remember if I locked it or not I know for sure I closed the door. So I asked my roommates (including Tracy) if anyone had gone into my room today. And they all denied it, even Tracy. But I just knew in my heart someone had been in there. I tried to brush it off but I couldn’t. So one weekend when i knew that all my roommates were going to be out of town I switched dorm buildings and roomed with a girl I had gotten to be close friends with. After I moved in with here I told her all that had happened, and she said that she would walk with me to my classes. Which thankfully we had most of our classes together except the night lab I had. And she would walk with me to my lab and wait until my lab was done to walk with me back to the dorm. One night though she had gone out of town to see her parents or something. I was walking back from my lab and it had gone really late that night again. I heard someone walking behind me but I didn’t pay any kind to it since class was just let out. But as I was walking I could hear the steps getting closer. So I started to pick up my walking speed. At this point I could tell someone was following me and I was to afraid to look back. As the footsteps increased and got faster I started running as fast as I could. Now let me tell you I’m not athletic by any means. Somehow though,Adrenalin probably, I was able to sprint to my dorm building hearing someone still running behind me and I thankfully already had my keycard out to get into the building and I swiped it on the door and slammed it behind me. Looking up from slamming the door I see someone who’s probably about 10 feet away from the door staring at me. Even though through the persons hoody that was up and I couldn’t see there face I could just they were looking at me. I just knew it was Sean. Not wasting anymore time I go to the RA that was up that night bawling telling him what had just happened. He called the police and I told them everything that happened. But they basically said they couldn’t do anything since I didn’t see his face even if I thought it was Sean and maybe I was just paranoid since it was night time and I was walking by myself. After all this I called my friend and told her what happened and she never went out of town again if I had my late night classes. I eventually decided college wasn’t for me and I dropped out. I moved back to my home state and went to cosmetology school and became a hairdresser. I still haven’t dated anyone yet though. Maybe it’s the fear of something like that happening again, I’ll never know. I do know that I’m super careful with who I talk to now and who I give my social media and phone number to. I’m still scared to go to places by myself even though it’s been years and I’m states away. Even so... Sean, Let’s not meet ever again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jg12d2/the_social_media_crush_gone_wrong/

LetsNotMeet

booksarecool364

I keep getting found on things by someone despite blocking and avoiding them

Be prepared to read things that are not my finest moments, when I was a freshman in highschool I was dealing with a lot of things and it ultimately caused poor life decisions. So I started highschool when I was young, barely 13 years old (I'm a female, now a junior). I didn't think anything about this guy since I wasn't focused on people, I didn't really care about anyone else except two friends I had in the classes I had with him. He was 17 at the time, and yes in those classes the grade levels were mixed. Nothing ever stuck me as odd about him (since I rarely paid attention to him), until one day in biology I looked up from my paper and saw him taking pictures of me. I was creeped out, but didn't say anything in case I was wrong, then days later he found my instagram and kept texting me which I obviously never responded to, and if I had to I would be very dry and just leave him on seen. Then one day in the middle of class I got a text from a random number saying "Hey \*name\* \*various emojis like heart ones" and I immediately knew it was him since earlier he was asking for my number which I declined to give to him. I immediately went to the two friends in that class to yell at them for telling him, which they replied "We never gave it to him" they even showed me their phones and let me go through them and their messages with him and no number of mine was ever mentioned despite his numerous texts asking them for it. I never answered him and desperately tried to avoid him, until one day on instagram I got a text from him saying "You're so pretty" to which I replied that I wasn't pretty, and then he spammed me with pictures that he had taken of me. That wasn't even the creepiest part. There were like 50+ pictures of me, ranging from classes, around the school campus, and even outside of school (like near the bus stop or waiting for a friend at the quad to go somewhere), there was even some of me playing soccer with friends on the football field (it's used for soccer too since the soccer field gets flooded easily and constantly is getting fixed to look pretty). Obviously I left him on seen, blocked him, and avoided him even more, to the point I started skipping class, and when I did go I told the teacher what happened while I was shaking and she let me go to the dean of the school where I showed them everything and even gave them the number I got the message from. It's been two years, I'm a Junior now (stayed in the school since they have connections to a hospital I want to volunteer in and because I have great friends there) and he's made new accounts on everything (instagram, snapchat, and probably got a new number) and he has been trying to follow me, and message me for weeks now. I keep blocking him but new accounts are created, I'm honestly glad for quarantine since I would probably be nervous to go to class or even school. It's also worth mentioning that it's still not known how he got my number as the only two people who had it never gave it to him. And I'm 100% sure that he was following me around school even after I told the dean.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jfn3zy/i_keep_getting_found_on_things_by_someone_despite/

LetsNotMeet

iputthefuninfunerals

Missed me...

New to reddit, but listen to stories from here all the time so I figured I might as well give my contribution. I am a 17 year old male living a relatively quiet life in rural northern Montana, I don't party a lot or do stupid stuff, but I do love driving in the mountains. Little did I know this could've costed me my life. Its August of this year(2020 obviously) and I was enjoying some free time on my day off of work, and I decided to go take a drive in the mountains north of Kalispell. I drive a red shitbox Nissan Frontier straight out of the 90s with a super tempermental transmission for context. The drive there was really uneventful, typical asshole drivers, big deisels, northern highway drearyness. It was a foggy cold rainy day so I figured nobody would be in the mountains at this time and I would be all alone up there. When I pulled off the main road and up the mountainous dirt road I felt normal, like nothing was wrong other than my damned transmission. I am driving up the road for about two hours until I hit a peak and get out to take some pictures, something I usually do for memories. And nothing was really out of the ordinary and it was silent other than the wind whistling through the trees and the rain. I was truly alone. Until I got the feeling. Y'know, that feeling you get in your core when someone/something is looking at you ? I was just standing there motionless listening to any noises that might alert me to someone's presence, but there was absolute stillness. I start slowly walking back to my truck when I hear a loud boom and a sound like you hear in those old western movies. My fight or flight was instantly in 6th gear and I sprinted back to my truck, started it, and by the grace of god or some higher being, was able to get it into first quickly and sped off. I found a spot big enough and turned the truck around and hauled as much ass as this little 4 banger could do back down the mountain road and onto the highway. I drove completely flat out down the highway to the nearest gas station where I stopped. I was shitting bricks at this point because It wasn't hunting season, I didn't see or hear anyone else, and there was no way I could be mistaken for an animal. I get out to see if the truck was damaged at all and lo and behold! There was a massive bullet hole, I'm gonna guess 7mm round sized hole, in the side of my truck. It went in by the rear fender and came out through the tailgate. I immediately called the county sheriff but since there was no bullet or evidence that they had done it, there wasn't much they could do. Nothing else has really happened since then and I haven't gone back to that area. Not as exiting as the others but to whoever shot at me alone in the middle of the northern Montana wilderness, you are a bad shot, and lets never meet.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jekay8/missed_me/

LetsNotMeet

Montana_avocado

Targeted in my own home

Recently discovered LNM and decided my story would fit well! Changed accounts because honestly I don’t know who’s out there and don’t want this connected with my identity. A few years back, my then-boyfriend and I (22F) were living in a 1BR apartment in downtown Denver - about a mile away from the coveted Larimer Square and tourist-favorite 16th street. The location was fantastic, but with people-dense areas often comes trouble. We lived in a historic house with 4 townhouses next to one another. The layout is important to the story - all four front doors were aligned on a single porch. My apartment was located next to an alley, and was the last door on the left. Due to a work obligation, my boyfriend was sent on a 3-month long work assignment, leaving me alone in the house with our two dogs. No sweat off my back - after growing up in a small town in the Northeast, I was eager to explore! My days after work were filled with long walks around the dog parks and exploring restaurants and craft breweries in downtown. All was well, until it wasn't. Being alone most of the time, and raised in a town of 4,000 of my cousins (exaggeration, but not really); I was docile and trusting - the worst combination. About a month into being alone in the city, I would come home to 3 men smoking outside my door. The first encounter, I decided to keep walking and called a nearby friend to help me get into my house safely. I thought this was a one-time thing, but weeks later, the men continually showed up. It was routine - when I got home at 5pm, they were there lighting up a cigarette - almost like they were waiting for me. I was finally at my wits-end and asked them if they lived here and whether they could verify that with my landlord. None of them answered and two proceeded to walk down the alley - but one remained stone-cold, and standing his ground, continuing to smoke. I was upset and I repeated the question - "do you live here and can you verify this?". He stared at me with dark, cold eyes and put his cigarette out on my door, only to brush my shoulder as he left my property. Safe to say, I was unnerved. I reached out to my boyfriend to let him know what happened, and he relayed the message to our landlady. Few days had gone by since my past encounter, and there were no signs on those men. I felt pretty good about myself - I had taken for granted being able to walk up my apartment steps without being fearful. I had made it to Friday, and decided to treat myself to a few drinks with local friends. I had become diligent about locking windows and doors - being next to an alley made me feel extra vulnerable and after my confrontation with the porch-creeps, I was on edge. My night out was enjoyable and after a few beers, I decided it was time to go home. Thankfully, a friend of mine insisted on making sure I got into my house safely. After all, he was the one who had assisted me on a few occasions before. I arrived home and he walked me to my door, but upon arrival, my door was covered in ash and the porch floor in cigarette butts, with the aroma of freshly-smoked cigarettes in the air. He could see the fear on my face and offered to sleep on the couch to keep watch, but I told him I would be fine on my own. I stayed up a bit longer double checking locks and pulling my blinds down. After about 20 minutes I retreated to my bedroom which faced my front door, being sure to keep the door ajar so my Rhodesian-ridgeback could be aware of anything happening outside my door. After a bit of netflix, I finally dozed off. Until 3-am, when I awoke to my dog growling. I was petrified. Something in me knew tonight was the night he/they would be back. I got out of my bed slowly, trying to make as little sound as possible. I peered out my door and saw a single hand on the stained glass window, and a pair of eyes peering in - sure enough, he was back. I had unfortunately left my kitchen lamp on, exposing my house to the outside world, and knew if he saw me, it was game-on. Slowly and quietly, I made my way to the lamp and turned it off so he could no longer see me, which ensued terror. The man - appearing to be shirtless and yelling slurs at me - began pounding on my door, demanding entrance. I retreated to my room and called 911, who told me to stay low, avoid interaction, and to stay on the line until the officers arrived. I couldn't stand to watch him punching the window, because I knew it was a race between him and the officers for whoever got me first. Finally, there was a loud crash, I peered through the door crack to see that he had upgraded from a hand to a brick, causing the glass to begin cracking. I remember vividly - it had been almost 10 minutes on the phone with dispatch at this point with officers 10 minutes away from my home. After a few more brick-throws, I watched him scale the porch to my window, continuing to try and obliterate the glass leaving the cracks in his wake. And then there was silence. I once again looked toward my front door to see him looking back at me, cigarette in hand, until the cops arrived. I was told to wait for a knock on my door, which finally came, to tell me it was safe to come out. I made it outside just as they were putting him in the back of the vehicle, when he yelled "Bye, Pete" - this shook me to my core; only my family referred to me as that, and they were thousands of miles away. I realized he had been watching, listening, waiting. He probably knew my boyfriend was gone, and most likely heard me refuse to have my friend stay here. I watched the vehicle drive away and called whoever I could get ahold of at this hour. Come morning, my mom finally called me back and told me to get in touch with officers and press charges - something that entirely slipped my mind during the mayhem. I called them back and asked them to get the paperwork, only to be told he was put in the hospital and ran off before properly identifying him. Needless to say, I moved shortly thereafter and my boyfriend found another job locally. To the cops who were absolutely no help, good riddance! And to the man who was after me for God-knows-what.... lets not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jdjuhm/targeted_in_my_own_home/

LetsNotMeet

spicymeatball_696969

The Sidewalk Stalker

First time poster so apologies if this doesn't meet standard, I'll remove if needed. I've been reading through tons of these and my S/O thinks my recent experience would be a good fit for this subreddit. I want to start out by saying that this all happened very quickly and isn't nearly as spooky or scary as 99% of the other stories on here. However, it was a very unsettling experience and one I hope to never have again. Lots of back story/scene setting: I am 5'4" trans male, so I'm often paranoid about being out at night and alone. However, I just moved to a more ritzy suburban gated apartment and have never felt more safe, at least up until that night. I take my dog, Sara, on walks fairly late at night, anywhere between 10p and midnight is common for me to be out with Sara. She's part pit, but she's scared of her own shadow and I've never gotten the feeling she'd harm anybody even if they were attempting to harm me. She's a great dog, just definitely not meant to be a guard dog. On this particular evening, it was fairly gross outside as far as air quality and heat. I have asthma and the air quality bothers me a lot so it wouldn't be a long drawn out thing. Sara had also just had surgery and wasn't quite ready for a full walk due to her meds, so it was perfect. She had a cone on her head, as well, which made it fairly difficult to walk and sniff around since she'd get stuck on bushes or the ground... Or me. As per discussion with Sara, I was only going to head to the apartment mailboxes and grab the mail and head back. Sara makes this a long drawn out process anyway, so it would be sufficient considering the air quality and her meds. My significant other was already asleep so I snuck out of bed, leashed up Sara and headed out. The way our apartment is set up to get to the mailboxes was a quick walk without Sara. We are a corner apartment so on the left is a T junction that sidelines the parking lot and to the right is the walk toward the apartment office (which is where the mailboxes are located.) The walk was uneventful to the mailbox, Sara took ages to sniff around and hid behind a tree while I got the mail. On the way back, we were on the final stretch to get back to the apartment and approaching our entry way just before the T junction. It was about 11:30p at night and other folks do walk around the complex with their dogs or whatever so seeing folks isn't uncommon. However, a short distance from our entry, I see a figure wearing a hoodie with the hood up walking down the sidewalk alongside the parking area. Picture here with my terrible drawing skills http://imgur.com/a/rbby0JL for a better idea. While, again, seeing someone isn't uncommon, seeing someone wearing a hoodie when it's 90+ degrees outside and muggy is a bit odd. The figure had their arms folded and were walking very slow down that side. They didn't turn down the sidewalk to walk by me but walked just past it and then paused just at the corner behind a bush right outside my apartment and turned to stare at me while I walked back to my entry way. They had no dog, and made no noise, I couldn't see their face due to the hood being up. I was already on edge but when they turned to stare at me with their arms crossed, it creeped me out hard and alarm bells started to ring. I picked up the pace a bit and finally made it to my entryway. I don't typically lock the front door (which I'm gonna plan on from here on out) when I take Sara on shorter walks, so as soon I turned the corner and got out of sight of the figure, I busted into a run and grabbed the door knob. As I turned it, I heard the snap of a twig and crunching noises to my right side as if someone was running thru the landscaping towards my entry way. Me and the dog both dove into the house and I shut/locked the door as quick as I could. I checked every window which faced that direction, our patio window, our living room windows and bedroom windows, and front door peephole and could not find the person at all. They must have either kept running up the sidewalk or bolted the other way. Either way, I waited a good 15 minutes before taking Sara back out to relieve herself, in which the person never reappeared. Ever since then, I look everywhere before I leave, we lock the door, and I've started going out no later than 10:30p when more of the residents are out. I no longer have the same feeling of safety here. I always tell my S/O when I leave and make sure she's awake. So, Sidewalk Stalker, let's not meet. EDIT: I appreciate the interest in covering this on Youtube Channels or podcasts - but I'm no longer giving permission to cover this story save for the folks I've already given permission to. Please refrain from asking any further :) Thanks!

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jdt5sf/the_sidewalk_stalker/

LetsNotMeet

Bytemarks55

moms crazy ex.

TW// mentions of abuse! pls do not read if you are triggered by abuse i love my mom but damn does she have bad judgement when it comes to dudes LOL (she got two other crazy ex’s but those stories are a whooole other thing) i also haven’t wrote in so long, very sorry if this isnt explained too well (i wrote from what i remember happening, i have forgotten some small details at this point but nothing big) or if there’s typos! getting right into it, when i was about 6 or 7 years old, my mom started dating this guy which for the sake of this story, can be called rob (easy & basic) and his son who can be called tim (again, basic). we (me, my mom and older sister) had moved in with them once school was about to be in session again and all was good for a bit, for about 2 years actually other than some minor things and his hella toxic masculinity (he fr constantly felt the need to put everyone else down and be aggressive all the time). i’m not really sure what made him snap one day, could’ve been the fact he was drinkin but it wasn’t only when he was drunk after that. he grew very mean to tim and i basically overnight. he wasn’t so much physically abusive to me or my sister as he was to tim, was more mentally to me and we never did find out why he switched up like that so fast. when i had first witnessed his abusive ways he used on tim, i became very scared very fast and he knew that and that’s exactly what it seemed like he wanted. this went on for months and months. once my mom found out about the abuse happening and he saw she wasn’t going to put up with that, rob didn’t like it at all. he started throwing a whole fit, straight up like a baby. kicking things and yelling at her to not go while crying (which he always tried to guilt trip her by crying), at one point he had even punched a hole in the wall of the house we were renting. i don’t remember most of that day or what was said, i just knew we were finally gonna leave. at this point my mom had called the police since he did start being violent but of course the cops didn’t do anything about him because he was drunk, instead my sister got a lecture from them since she was yelling at him once he had gotten in her face, but other than that, they just left us to deal with him. after we had moved out it was an instant relief feeling even though i felt bad that tim had to be stuck with that man by himself. after the official break off of everything, is when he started to follow us. first it was just at stores, we’d see him in one isle then the next and the next, even when we would walk way across the store he would always just ‘show up’ and it definitely didn’t feel like a coincidence. this happened for the next couple weeks in a row when going to stores. we even would go back a forth between stores, grocery shopping at one one week and the other store the next time. once we stopped seeing him, my mom said she had felt less anxious about leaving the house but that was until about a week later. that’s when the endless amount of phone calls and emails started. shed block the number and he’d just call back with a different one or email with a new email (manz was dedicated to cry to her about her leaving). this went on for months and months until he just got creepy. at this time i was in basketball in elementary so on game night we would get home at around dark or when it’s dark (during winter) and one night we had left the game a bit later than usual making it pretty dark when we got home. on our way home one night, this man was at our house, two months after their split (which may not be long but c’mon now), my heart had fell to the floor when i saw his car there then seeing him on our porch, looking in the windows?? my heart stopped. i could tell my mom was trying to be calm cause she didn’t want me to be scared so she just kept driving and hoped he didn’t see us and thankfully he didn’t. we had drove around the surrounding blocks a couple times before trying to go back home and which when we did, he wasn’t there. my mom didn’t feel safe just going in knowing he had, had violent tendencies, especially when he’s angry so to be on the safe side, she had called a friend to walk through the house with us just to have a third person there. thankfully the house was all good and he was no where to be found. this similar type of situation had happened again except i was home alone this time. i was sick from school and my mom had work, along with my sister (who wasn’t really home to experience much of this which is why she wasn’t mentioned much previously) but again, he was looking through the windows like a complete creep. my adrenaline had got so high once i saw him, my ten year old self knowing i couldn’t do much nor could i move from behind the front door without him seeing me, started pounding on the front door which scared him off pretty fast thankfully, pretty sure he expected no one to be home or i’m not really sure what he was looking for or who he was looking for. after this, i only had saw him at the store a couple other times, each and every isle once again. weird enough, after a couple more weird calls and voice calls, it all stopped. we never saw him or heard from him again. well, up until about a year ago, another email, another apology, another block for my mom. it’s been almost 8 years now but rob, let’s never meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jdfqkf/moms_crazy_ex/

LetsNotMeet

babie-luna

A guy waited and followed me on the tram

This story took place about 2 years ago, I was about 16 and 5'6, who either looked like a 12 year old boy or a 16 year old tom boy depending on the person. At the time as well I suffered with really bad anxiety and you could definitely see it on my body language, I was definitely visually an easy target for predators. So, I was a 16 year old kid just picking up hardbacks for my last year in school. After I was done shopping I decided to get a tram back to my dad's work place and then he would take me home, it was a Sunday morning, pretty chilly and it definitely had an uneasy feel. I hated going into town alone but no one else was available to join me so I sucked it up and did the deed. The trams were new at the time and I had only taken them 2 or 3 times so I was definitely hyper vigilant on them, especially since I suffer with anxiety. Hyper vigilant so I didn't miss my stop and hyper vigilant that nothing weird happens as the tram was notorious for weird people. I walk to my tram stop ansd I wait, I see the next tram is soon, but there is a guy making me unbelievably uneasy. I hate assuming the worst of people but this man was making me so uncomfortable. Nothing in particular was off about him, he looked a bit scruffy but not *a predator*. So I decided to walk away from the stop for a bit and wait for the tram coming to pass, then return and get the one after, they come often enough and this dude was giving me the creeps. I walk away for a bit, take a nice relaxing stroll to calm myself down and return to the stop.... he's still there. When I left he definitely watched me leave and waited for me to return. Now at the time I was doubting myself, I was telling myself I am being irrational. Something like a creepy dude following me couldn't happen to me surely? Wrong. We get on the tram, my tram takes about 5 stops to my dad's work place. I walk down the tram a bit, the man was still in my eyeline and I was in his. Now my dad's work place is about a 5 minute stroll from my tram stop but it is a walk down a quiet area, an area that someone could easily assault you or take you and not many would take notice, especially on a Sunday morning. At each stop I am PRAYING this guy gets off the tram, but he does not. My anxiety has hit the roof and although the tram walk is only 5 minutes I call my dad to pick me up right outside the station. My dad surprisingly obliges, I think he could tell something was off with me. So all I have to do it walk out of the tram station and make it to the car. I still had hope in my heart that this guy would not get off at my station and go to the next instead. It comes to my stop, I get off, and of course Mr. Creepy gets off too. No one else gets off but us two. Fuck. The guy looks at me and I look at him, we make eye contact. I could tell he was planning on walking in my direction and follow me out. I can see him panic a little and then he walks in the opposite direction to me. Now the chilling part about this is. This station only has one exit. This man turns around and walks onto the tracks of the tram and just wonders off. I didn't stay too long to see if he would come back and I sped walk to my dad's car. When I get into my dad's car I double check with him that there is only one exit to the station as the tram is only new and I was unfamiliar with it. He says yes there is only one exit and I am covered in goosebumps. This man waited for me to get onto the tram even though he could have taken an earlier one, followed me to the station and decided to last minute abort mission. I have tried to rationally explain this to myself, maybe he wasn't following me and he was just a weird dude, but why did his presence make me so uneasy that I decided to walk away and wait for the next tram? Why did he wait for the next tram when he could have gotten an earlier one? What are the chances of the man getting off at the same stop as me? Why did he not use the exit and walk onto the tracks instead? It's not like I gave him a death stare, we just made eye contact when we got off the tram and I was a 5'6 sixteen year old kid, definitely not intimidating. All I know about this experience is that I was just glad my dad picked me up outside the station and I never want to experience the feeling of being followed again. So to the weird dude who followed me on the tram, let's not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jct2wi/a_guy_waited_and_followed_me_on_the_tram/

LetsNotMeet

littlefannamedtrain

Two Men Followed Me on a Deserted Beach

* I hereby declare a copyright notice and no one has my permission to use my original content below including narration via YouTube and other online/ offline media* I stayed at beachside resort on a small island in Thailand. The rooms were actually separate small houses sprawled over a large hill. The resort was adjacent to a smaller hotel located about 800m down an empty beach with lively nightlife. I woke up at 2 one night out of hunger. No food in the room and my husband was sound asleep. I decided to walk down the beach to the smaller hotel for food. I passed our resort’s empty guard station that stood on the entrance to the beach which casted a large spotlight onto the beach in front of the resort. I walked out of the spotlight and down about 800m of pitch black beach, until I reached the light cast by the smaller hotel’s bar, where everyone was partying and pretty tipsy. While I ate my food near the bar I noticed two men hanging out on the beach kind of watching the bar-goers. They sat apart from the party, but they could have just been chatting smoking cigarettes. My purse was stolen a few years prior on a beach in Ibiza (where the police informed me that locals often preyed I’m drunk tourists). Due to this previous experience, I watched the two guys on the beach out of the corner of my eye, as I began my walk back down the beach to my resort. I see one guy hit the other’s shoulder and kind of nudge the guys towards my direction. My stomach just dropped and I got a really bad feeling, so I just walked faster thinking I had enough of a head start. As I hit the dark prt of that beach I turned but I couldn’t see anything and my instincts just kicked in. I just start RUNNING. Once I get to the spotlight in front of the resort I make number of exaggerated waves to the empty station and yelled a pretend hello to the non-existent guard. I get back to the stairwell leading down to my hotel bungalow and I started to feel really silly, that I freaked myself for no reason. I then heard some footsteps and I stopped cold and ducked against the wall at the foot of the stairwell that wasn’t visible to the pathway up from the beach. Before I ducked, to my shock and horror, I saw that the footsteps belonged to the same two men I had saw at the bar. There also want anything on this end of the beach except for these bungalows. Luckily the pathway forked, I heard them walking around a bit, with my heart beating in my chest and almost passing out, and after a few minutes I manoeuvred my key into the door and slipped in my room. I didn’t know what to make of it but later read that rapes/ violent thefts against tourists were not uncommon on that very small island. The resort got involved, and said that sometimes the beach is dangerous. I would 100% go back, because other than that I felt completely safe. All I can say is thank god I was sober. To the two men on the beach, let’s not meet again. Edit - intro.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jcnd7y/two_men_followed_me_on_a_deserted_beach/

LetsNotMeet

artspoff

I think he was going to push me off the roof.

I’d like to preface this by saying I was young and drunk for most of this so my bad decision making, while annoying, was not out of pure ignorance. I was 20(f) at a anime convention, my 21st birthday was coming up a month later so my roommates decided to let me get shit faced as long as I stayed in the room or left with someone I trusted. I was staying with a large group of people in one of the nicer hotel rooms there. I had been to quite a lot of conventions and never really had a bad experience outside of a few cosplay creepers and shitty people at times. The weekend went pretty normal except I was drunk and my group was throwing small parties, on the night of a particularly not so fun one I decided to drunkenly leave the room and go roam around the main lobby. That was when I met Steven. I have no idea how old Steven was but he was atleast an adult, maybe a little older than me. We ran into each other at a manga table and he mentioned how he loved the Manga I was holding. I didn’t really read manga and just liked the artwork(I’m an anime Andy), but I still listened to him gush about the story for a few because whatever he seems nice enough. I didn’t say much to him outside of “mhm” and “yeah that sounds really cool!”. I thanked him for the info and walked away, after a hour or so of roaming around I decided to head back up to my room. Back in my room I had taken two shots with my roomies and was laying on the couch when we got a knock on the door, the music and talking quieted down as it was customary to shush when someone knocked in case of con security coming to shut down our party. Thats when my roommate who answered the door said “Veronica? She’s here come on in.” Followed by silence and then my roommate calling my name and telling me “Someone is here for you”. Now two things drunk me didn’t think about were the fact that I didn’t tell Steven my name, our interaction lasted 5 minutes max and I gave no information to him. On top of that my name is more complicated and hard to pronounce, but maybe I assumed he just described me and my roommate knew who he was talking about. But I didn’t give him my room number, no we were several floors up in the suites area, you’d have to take a different elevator to get to the room than you would to get to a standard hotel room. I definitely didn’t think about that though. I walked to the door and Steven was smiling, he asked me to go for a walk with him. And I drunkenly said yes, I mean he’s just an awkward anime dude who just want a friend to hang out with. We were walking and he was talking to me about how he recently was watching an anime where the protagonist wouldn’t stop killing the girl he liked. i’ve since googled that anime plot and have not been able to find one similar to what he was talking about outside of some yandere anime. I got a little creeped out as the hall was empty and we were walking with no plan of where we were going. He then began to talk about his favorite serial killers, how he was a huge crime junkie and how he followed a lot of cases. A big red flag went off in my head and I decided it was time to try to go back to my room. But then he stopped walking and stared at me “I know a really cool spot we can go, if you take the staff elevator you can go all the way to the top of the hotel, it’s really pretty.” He was suddenly breathing a little oddly, and his hand were shaking. I said no, as I had some sense left in my head. He then grabbed my arm as hard as he could and started pulling me, yanking me towards the staff doors. I pulled back asking him to stop and he told me to just be quiet. I yanked free of him and started running, he chased after me telling me to stop. I was nearly in tears and wondering why the hallways were so empty at the one of the most crowded cons I had ever went to. When I finally ran into a group of girls they saw the fear on my face and immediately pulled me into their group, asking me about my hair and make up, wrapping their arms around me. I was crying telling them what was happening and when I looked back Steven was gone. I didn’t see him for the rest of the con, but I stopped being so friendly at cons because of him. I would also like to say Steven is the name I gave him, I never got his name personally. I told con security about him and my roommates and friends used the buddy system with me for the rest of the convention. I’d like to never meet you again Steven.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jbt9qw/i_think_he_was_going_to_push_me_off_the_roof/

LetsNotMeet

2021Happy

Stranger in my apartment

This is my first story! By the way, english isn't my mother tongue so sorry if I make any mistake. This happened to me 2 weeks ago. I started university in September, and therefore live in a "students only" apartment complex. There are 4 other appartments in my hallway, and sometimes we just spend time in each other's appartments. I had the absolute chance (that's ironic) to lose my keys the first week of university. It wasn't a big deal, I simply paid for another key. After a week in my appartment, I started to notice that some of my stuff wasn't in the same place as I thought I'd put it. It didn't scare me, because I know I'm a distracted person. On the day of the incident, I was coming home earlier than usual with another student, Thomas, the boy that lives in the appartment next to mine. We got in, and when I unlocked my door, I saw a woman inside my appartment. Of course, it scared me, but as I was about to ask her what the fuck she was doing here, she told me: "oh sorry, I didn't know you'd be home this early. I'm the janitor, I clean rooms weekly." She then smiled at me, and went out. I didn't know we had a janitor, but this kinda explained why my stuff was moving. Thomas then noticed she had left her keys on my desk, and said I should give them back to her. When I took a closer look, I just realized those were MY lost keys! The night passed, and I decided to talk to the man in charge of the complex about this. I told him that the janitor that had my lost keys (so I didn't really lost them), and I asked for my money back. He just looked at me in total incomprehension, and told me: "but, we don't even have a janitor..." I just froze. Then who the fuck went in my appartment for the past few weeks?? Why was she there?? We didn't call the police, because nothing had been stolen, but I still searched for cameras in my appartment (you never know with these psychopaths). I haven't seen her since that, and I'm glad to know that she can't enter the complex anymore without the badge on the keys. Morals of the story: try not to lose your keys guys.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jb8i6i/stranger_in_my_apartment/

LetsNotMeet

mae_snr

I was stalked for months and almost got kidnapped

When I was 17, I lived with my grandparents in a tucked away, suburban neighborhood in socal. I was very social back then, partied a lot, and was out doing something basically every single night, getting home anywhere from 2 AM- 5 AM. We had only lived there for maybe 6 months, and only had one key. The neighborhood was all old white people and some younger families, all upper middle class, and no one drove into our street unless they lived there or knew someone who did. My family was always home, so I never took the sole house key and the front door and backyard sliding door were always unlocked/open so I could come home at any time of the night and then lock it behind me. Also, my husky slept outside and liked to come in and out as she pleased which is the main reason the slider was always open all night. I'll circle back to why mentioning my dog is important in a bit. Fast forward to a random night I was out with a friend of mine. No recollection of what we did that night. Probably went to someone's house and did a bunch of coke til 3 am. She drives me home (I don't drive) and drops me off at about 3:45 AM. I say bye, head inside and lock the door behind me. I go into the kitchen and pop a cup of noodles in the microwave. About five minutes later, I go upstairs to my room. My room was on the second floor, directly above the garage and driveway. Looking out you see (about 50 yards away) the entrance to my street which was shaped like the letter "p" , so anyone who drove into my street I could clearly see, and they would have to loop around and pass our house to leave via the same road. This is when I looked out of my window and saw them. My lights were already on, and my curtains already drawn from when I left in a hurry earlier. I walked up to the window to shut the curtains, looked down into my driveway where between my grandparents four parked cars stood a very large man staring up into my window, dead still - blank stare. He was Hispanic, late twenties to early thirties, about 6'2 and at least 250 lbs. red shirt. I immediately dropped to the floor, but there's no way he didn't already see me. As I dropped I saw another man walking out from my gate (which is not visible from my window) next to the driveway, coming out from the INSIDE, towards the other man. I heard some brief speaking from the man who came out of the gate and couldn't understand what language it was but it was not english. oddly, it didn't sound spanish either. After I dropped to the floor, I crawled to my grandpas office which sat directly next to my room and had a window that also faced the driveway. The lights were off in there so I could look out without being seen. The man who i saw standing between our cars was still standing there staring and motionless. the other man was looking around and pointing to my house. i nearly vomited. I crawled to my grandparents room down the hall. i was crawling because the upper level was loft style where you can see the whole lower level, and out of the glass front door and windows. (you can also see in) I frantically knocked on their door trying to stay quiet as not to tip off these men because I wanted them to be caught and questioned by police. my grandparents finally woke up and could barely understand me because I was shaking so badly and my words were just spilling out. My grandpa (being the fearless grumpy old man he is) put on his robe and decided to walk outside and investigate himself. I called the cops and watched from the upstairs window to make sure nothing happened to him. By the time he went outside and stood in the driveway, the men were gone from my sight. a few moments later a car sped out of our street, lights off, and no license plate. He told me once he came back inside that when he went out there, they were parked next to my next door neighbor's car in her driveway, with the car on but lights off and the seats reclined. he said it "looked like they were sleeping," or pretending to. when they looked over and saw him, they backed out and sped off. The cops took a whopping 30 minutes to show up, didn't want my descriptions of the men, or the car. They said lock the doors and if they come back, call the cops. they drove around my street for a bit then left. great. thanks for the help. my grandma thought I was just on drugs and didn't feel the level of urgency or danger that I felt. my grandpa was also very nonchalant even though he saw them, which pissed me off and made me feel even more helpless. i slept on the floor of their room from that night on until about 3 months later. That wasn't the end though. So. My husky. Her name is Nala, and at the time she was about two. She's small for a husky, about 50lbs, but to people who aren't super familiar with dogs she looks pretty threatening. She chose to always sleep outside, which is why we ALWAYS left the slider to the backyard open. Literally always. My grandparents would get pissed when I would close and lock it because she'd piss and shit in the house. Anyway, about a month(?)or so before that night I saw those men, I was in the backyard and saw nala chewing on something. She has possession aggression with certain things like bones, small animals and things she's stolen. that basically means when you go near her and she's in that state, she growls, flashes her teeth, snarls and lunges. and if you dare to reach your hand out as if to take what she has, you'll lose that hand. when I walked up to her, she lunged at me. she had a steak. a rotten, moldy, obviously old t-bone steak. looked like she'd been working on it for a while. I asked my grandparents, they didn't give it to her. asked my neighbors if they maybe threw her one over the fence, they had no idea what I was talking about. I didn't think anything of it. until it happened four. more. times. four separate occasions I found her with a rotten-meat-clinging-to-the-bone, t-bone steak. I threw them away each time I found them, so I knew they were new. I asked my neighbors again, thinking maybe they thought I was mad they were giving my dog food and lying to me--nothing. hm. like I said, this was coincidentally happening in the weeks leading up to that night I saw those men. the event that made me start to connect the dots between the steaks nala was finding and these men, happened the second time I encountered the men. fast forward to about 3 months after that initial event. I hadn't slept in my room since, and i went on a trip to europe to visit some family for a month. Nothing had happened since that night but the trauma and fear were very real. it made me lose weight, I stayed up all night listening to every noise I heard and analyzing it, peeking out the windows every couple minutes until 6 am. I was a wreck. while out of the country I came to terms with everything in my own mind and decided I had to stop living like how I was. in constant fear. what were those men going to do to me if I hadn't seen them? if they wanted to break in and rob us, most all of us were gone during the day most days a week for at least a few hours. why wait for everyone to be home? if they were peeping toms, they could've parked on my street and watched me all night and I would've never known. I think they were going to try to take me. trafficking maybe? I should mention I am a model (not a known one) and had/have a decently big social media following. I do a lot of livestreams, i'm very interactive with my followers and had been in the spotlight online since I was 13. I got back from europe and about a week or so later, decided I was going to finally go out again. it was the first day where I really felt "okay" and not so afraid. I got used to things being normal again and was excited to move on from the whole thing. that night I went out. I got home earlier, about 1-2AM, and had my key this time. we started locking the doors after that night. my friend waited for me to go through my gate and get to my door before leaving. as I pulled out my keys and walking up to the door I heard a rustling in the bushes. I thought "i'm being paranoid, it's just an animal." to help form a better picture, you walk through a 3 foot tall swing open gate adjacent to the driveway and about 6 steps down a path to the front door, and a small 3 ft gate to the backyard is adjacent to the front door to the left. when I heard the rustling I instinctively flashed my unlocked phone screen in that direction for light to look into the pitch black backyard. at the exact moment I did that, someone about 4 ft in front of me in my backyard flashed their phone screen as if they were investigating the same way I was. I didn't see the person, just the phone screen which had a text convo open on it. i noted that it wasn't an iphone. I let out a gasp and they whipped around the corner back into the backyard and I bolted inside the front door. I ran to the back slider and slammed and locked it and ran upstairs while calling the police. that entire interaction outside happened in about 10 seconds. the police showed up, and did nothing at all just like before. after talking with them for a while I went upstairs to my room and peered out the window as they spoke to my grandparents. as I was scanning the street from the window i heard a whistle coming from directly below me (the driveway). it was that whistle people do when trying to get someone's attention, or when calling your dog to you. as if communicating with his buddy saying "cops are here, let's dip." my theory about the steaks is that these men were stalking me and casing our house for at least a month before i saw them that first night. they must've seen my dog, and not knowing that she doesn't bark or attack strangers, baited her with steaks to gain her trust so they could go into the backyard without a problem. we moved a couple months later due to something unrelated. I never saw them again. to this day I struggle with the PTSD those events caused me. I have lived in constant fear and paranoia ever since. I can't be alone at night. at all. I think the reason it affects me so much is because they were never caught. no one knows what their end goal was, and (the worst part for me) how the fuck did they find me? did they follow me home from seeing me somewhere in public one night? were they some of the gardeners who often mowed the lawn around me as i laid out and tanned? were they some of the workers that redid our roof for weeks on end a month or so before any of this happened? (everyone on our street had their roofs redone one by one for about a month, and since I was on the top floor I often woke up to the workers sitting in my window sill adjacent to my bed with my curtains open, literally inches away from me) did one of the workers tell a friend there was a hot teenage girl who always left her curtains open? did they find me through social media? i'll never fucking know and it kills me. I still hear that fucking whistle every now and then. honestly, it might be auditory hallucinations at this point. I don't know. i'll never know who those men were, or what their intentions were, but regardless--- let's not meet. again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jb30zl/i_was_stalked_for_months_and_almost_got_kidnapped/

LetsNotMeet

FeelGodInsideOfHer

Cop stops me on the suspicion of being a terrorist/political activist

First, i would like to point out a few things considering that that most of reddit is American and they have a riot right now with some being pro-cop or anti-cop and i don't really want people to say " screw cops " or for a good cop to read this and think they are being attacked, this story takes place in Egypt and like in any place some cops are bad, also the title is a little weird but hopefully, you will understand as we descent into the story. 2-3 years ago i was 20, just an Egyptian guy studying law in the nightmare period of finals, barely getting any sleep or any showers. this is important because that meant my beard grew a lot and looked nasty and my hair poofed into soft curls and I pretty much looked like trash. for this story to make sense I am going to give you some background, about a decade or half a decade ago there was this political group called Muslim brotherhood, they are made of Islamists so you are thinking long beard and very religious views almost extreme religious views, so a coup disguised as a revolution took place and the guy who lead it marked them as terrorists to remove any major political parties that can stand in his way, that means if you had a long beard you were probably hunted, imprisoned, killed, tortured or a mix of all of them. years pass and things are much calmer and 20 years old me is anxious, stressed, and nervous i do NOT want to fail my exam, if anything I wanted good scores. so here i am looking like absolute Sh\*t with a very messy beard and hair , i am almost late for my finals and i am walk-sprinting while reading my notes again and again and again, and this guy in civilian clothes asks me to stop, obviously, i don't i am in a hurry and i am nervous and the last thing i need is to lose my focus. so he tells me that he is a cop and now i am TOO nervous and i ask him in a very nervous way " what? show me your ID " and he says just come with me. you can only imagine how i feel, firstly i am pretty much shaking by now i didn't do anything wrong why would i be stopped? am i going to be sent to the PD? what about my finals? and there's also this very good chance he could be someone dangerous. he starts grabbing me by the arm and i yell at the top of my lungs for help, nobody helps they just look at me and pass me by, the guy then grabs me by my neck with his elbow and drags me to an empty cafe, i thought to myself " yep i am going to die today " and started whispering my prayers. i get told to calm the f\*ck down and they sit me down and the supervisor and his team, they are all in civilian clothes and the supervisor basically yells at me " either shut the f\*ck up or i will send you for three hours of investigations at the department, your choice " i am now shaking and almost on the verge of tears, it was a humiliating experience. they take my ID to inquire about it and i keep explaining i have a law exam that i need to get to so they tell me to stay still and be quiet or they will make it take longer. luckily one of the cops was very kind to me, he kept asking me questions about the exams and looked at my notes to talk to me about it and was just very nice, here's the thing I had no idea why on earth am i being searched up, at least i didn't until they dragged another much older person but with a LONG and i mean Gandalf LONG beard and they asked him about the brotherhood and then they asked me why have i grown my beard to which i replied with " i don't really have time for hygiene i have finals " then they asked about my family and asked if i had any relatives or if i knew anyone who is with the brotherhood, i told them that i do not know anyone and that my family and i tend to keep to ourselves. when i realized where this was going i decided to show them my phone, i mostly had rock and metal music and the people here have the misconception that metal is the devil's music, it was worth a shot and i don't think they would've accused me of being a devil worshipper. they finally finish checking me on the database and give me my ID back and they literally asked me a question that left me speechless " why did you scream for help? " i can't really tell them it's because they dragged me forcefully, can i? so i just told them i got mugged this way before and they literally all just laughed at me. i ended up apologizing to the supervisor Because it took place about 10 minutes away from where i live and the last thing i need is being a target. i finally made it to the exam room but i am a whole hour late, i couldn't enter with the notes so instead of stashing my notebook i was too angry so i just threw it away and entered, i solved all that i could but honestly, i didn't have the focus, every time i wrote something i kept having flashbacks of what happened so when i had enough and made sure i solved all the questions i got out, i just wanted to go home. i only got a passing mark for this subject. sometimes this memory pops up from here and then and every time i do i remember the humiliation i felt back then, i don't think i could've done anything differently back then which just makes it worse because that probably means if i am faced with this situation again there would be nothing i can do unless i have higher " power " than them

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/jb3ssb/cop_stops_me_on_the_suspicion_of_being_a/

LetsNotMeet

[deleted]

I went to a serial killer's lair.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j9emtm/i_went_to_a_serial_killers_lair/

LetsNotMeet

veggiemaniac

I decided to take a night drive in the mountains

About a month ago, when summer was just at its end, my friend Rose and I decided to go for a drive up to the mountains. I grew up nearly out of city limits and drove the mountain roads often. Rose is a newer friend in my life and had only been up in the mountains a few times. I was eager to show her how cool it was at night, especially when you're headed back to town and you can see all of the city lights as you're leaving the foothills. I love listening to creepy videos and watching scary movies, which may have been a big help for Rose and I on this particular night. We headed up in my van, a dependable '03 Toyota who had made the journey with me dozens of times before. There's a part where the pavement ends and the gravel road takes you deeper into the mountain. Just beside this stretch of asphalt-to-gravel is a stretch of dirt that people use to park their trucks and trailers. Rose and I drove by and I noted that the pull-out was empty, as was normal for this time of night. It was 10 pm, the sun had set, and the lights with timers had all turned on in town. I'd never seen any lights up on the mountain, though. Almost every farming field on the mountains is fenced off with a locked gate that will say "Private Property" normally with bullet holes in the metal to show that the owner are armed and generally pissed off at idiots that try to break into their fields. Every field in the mountains is watered with a center pivot irrigation system. Those are the long, repeatedly arched systems with metal frames and wheels that are commonly seen all over the United States' agricultural districts. I'd seen a few irrigation systems in town that have lights with timers on them, so at first I wasn't too surprised when I saw one light in a field. We'd only gone a quarter mile in by now, but then I remembered that not only had the light not been there before, it was in the wrong place. "Ah fuck," I sighed, which was probably not what Rose wanted to hear in the middle of her first night-time mountain excursion. "What's up?" Rose asked. "Well, I know farmers are harvesting now, so I guess a light in a field makes sense, but at the same time....I've never seen that one before," I say, gesturing off to our right, where there is a very random amber light off at the edge of the field. It's dark enough that I can't see fences or any of the boulder around it, but I was familiar enough with the mountains to know that it was the edge of the property. I started to tap on the wheel anxiously, as I was filled with mixed emotions. I was eager to keep going, because the mountains were going to be beautiful in the half-moon and Rose had never seen them at night before. At the same time, my brain told me that if I'm going to listen to a few dozen hours of horror stories per month, I'd at least better get some meaning out of them. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Rose. I'd keep going if those were tractor headlights, but I've never seen just one light right there, especially in that field. I've never even seen it farmed, so it wouldn't make sense to waste energy or money lighting it." Rose is amazing and didn't mind that we were turning around only a quarter mile in. We turn and head back towards the asphalt. I had no idea why, but I felt like there was a clock that had suddenly started ticking. "Hey, Rose? Could you please hold the handle? I'm going to go fast enough that you might want something to hold onto. I promise, we're safe." Rose silently clutched the "oh shit handle" above the passenger side of the car and I went faster. I felt the sense that it was time to hurry up, so I did. I zoomed back towards the asphalt as fast as I dared, my sense of trepidation only intensifying when we reached the truck parking zone. There was a white truck and flatbed trailer that had not been there less than ten minutes before. Five, maybe six guys were around the truck that had its headlights on. One guy was in a UTV, backing it off a flatbed trailer so fast that I thought he was going to crash into one of his friends. I raced by and somebody ran behind the car. I turned onto a road that would lead to a main road. "Rose," I asked while inching my way up to 70 mph, "were those people there when we drove by earlier?" I just wanted to make sure I wasn't crazy. "Nope," Rose said evenly. "Mhm," I sighed, copying her tone, even as I jumped up to 75 and glanced in my rear view mirror. As far as I could tell, they weren't following us, but we had eight miles of straight, flat roads with no cover before we actually managed to reach civilization. "Did they seem like they were in a hurry to you?" There was no other traffic, so we didn't have to slow down for anyone, which helped us both remain as calm as possible. ​ "Just a bit," she laughed nervously, looking over her shoulder to check for any cars as well. Thankfully, nobody came. We drove to a crowded restaurant and sat in the car while we calmed down. We tried to think of a reason why those guys had shown up so abruptly in the middle of the night. Rose suggested that maybe their friends were camping and in trouble. All of the land in the mountains are private property, so nobody camps there. I'm glad Rose and I left so we didn't have to find out why six guys decided they needed to rush up the mountain in the middle of the night.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j8x8tq/i_decided_to_take_a_night_drive_in_the_mountains/

LetsNotMeet

McKave

A stranger entered my house

This is my first post, I just found this subreddit and made an account so I could contribute. My sister and I are sort of magnets for weird shit happening so I might post a couple other stories in the future. ​ This happened when I was about 12 years old, in Kansas. I was sitting in my bedroom playing Halo. My parents were both out running errands, and my sister was at work, so I was home alone with my two dogs, a little terrier and a Bichon-Frise. Not exactly the attack dog breeds, more like early warning systems at best. I had been home alone before, it really was not a big deal, we lived in a pretty safe part of town that had never had any problems, other than one time where some people sprayed KKK graffiti on some public park equipment. Anyway, I was kicking back in my chair, doritos in one hand, controller in the other, full gamer mode, when I heard the very distinct sound of my door open and close like someone had just come in. The room I was in faced in such a way where I could not see the front door. My dogs got up and ran into the living room, and so I just assumed my parents were home. I shouted for my mom to confirm this (I'm a bit paranoid due to the aforementioned "being a weird shit magnet") and I heard no response. My dogs also were not barking like they normally do when someone gets home. I thought that was kind of weird, so I paused my game and walked out into the living room. Nothing. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I had heard someone come in, clear as day. I was not wearing headphones, I had the TV turned down and was listening to music, so I knew it couldn't have been the game. I immediately went to my parent's closet and grabbed our shotgun, like a good midwest boy tends to do. The only problem with that was that I did not know where my dad kept the shells, so my plan was to fake it and hope they didn't have a gun of their own (stupid plan, I wasn't the brightest kid). At this point, doubt started to kick in, had I actually heard the door? Was it the game? But then I thought, "Why would the dogs jump up like that if it was?" I walked back into my living room, unloaded shotgun pointing in front of me. I tried to call my dad, he didn't pick up. I tried to call my mom, she didn't pick up. I tried to call two of my best friends, they didn't pick up. My 12 year old mind immediately jumped to "Holy fuck they're all dead", and so for the first time in my life, I had to call 911. The operator picked up, I explained the situation with tears in my eyes from fear. She told me to stay calm, and that police were on their way. The difficult part about staying calm was that there was a hallway by my front door. I knew in my heart of hearts that there was someone in that hallway about to jump out and really fuck my day up. My two dogs were right by me, also staring towards the hallway. This did not help the fear. I stood there rooted to the spot for what felt like an hour, but was actually only a few minutes, the operator's voice in my ear telling me to stay calm. Thankfully, my parents opened the front door. "What the fuck are you doing?" I explain to my father the situation we are currently in, he grabs his pistol from the front room (didn't know that was there, thanks dad), and we go a-hunting. I always thought it would be cool to go around clearing rooms and shit like a SWAT team but fuck if I wasn't about to shit myself every time we opened a bedroom door. We didn't find anything. The police arrived shortly after, and told us that this had been happening over the past few weeks, people wait until homeowners leave, check the door, and if it's unlocked they go in and take valuables. They said whoever it was probably left when they heard that someone was home, which never quite sat right with me because I only heard the door open and close once. Ever since this happened, I have triple checked every door and window lock whenever I am home alone. To whoever walked into my house that day, I never saw you...and I really hope I never do. ​ As a fun little post script to this story, I told it to one of my friends and he goes, "You only heard the door once? You probably heard them leaving, not entering then. They were already in the house." That...was not comforting.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j8i1yq/a_stranger_entered_my_house/

LetsNotMeet

Risk_Fantastic

I was almost the victim of a human trafficking scheme in my city.

So for a preface, I was 19(I’m now 22) and I worked in the mall in my town. My town is relatively calm, never any major crimes committed, but the city that’s about 15 minutes out used to have the highest murder rate in Canada. The mall I worked in was pretty small, the usual type of customers were moms with their kids or older people just trying to pass the time. Not a sketchy type of mall at all, and very safe to work at. One day I was on my break and I went to the food court to get a drink and sit down and just browse my phone as usual. I noticed two women walking towards me and my first instinct was they saw my uniform and they were going to ask me something about a product my store sold. I thought nothing sinister of it. They come up to me and sit down right away. They both had heavy accents, though I’m not sure what kind because it hadn’t been something I’d ever heard. They were dressed very classy, as if they were going to church. And they relatively seemed completely normal. One of the women pulls out a book and they begin asking me some odd questions. Such as, “Do you go to church?” “Do you believe in god?” Mainly just stuff that has to do with religion. So I assumed they were some sort of missionaries. Then they began to tell me about “God the mother.” With me being extremely shy, I just listened to them talk. They then asked me if I was able to come with them to a youth group they had organized that was going on tonight. I told them that I was at work, and just on break so I couldn’t go. But they continued to insist. Finally they got the message that I couldn’t go with them, so they asked me for my phone number and told me that they’d text me next time they arrange one and I could go. I really didn’t want to talk to them anymore, I wanted to get them to leave, so I agreed and gave them my phone number. A couple of days later I got a text from them trying to arrange something but I just blocked the number and thought nothing of it. It’s not that I thought they were planning to hurt me, I just wasn’t really into going to a youth group. Then a couple of months later, I was reading the news and there was a story warning young girls about a human trafficking scheme in my city. It said that women would come up to you and talk to you about “god the mother” and try to get you to leave with them. So thank goodness I hadn’t finished my shift yet, and thank goodness that I never responded to their text. It’s so weird to me to think that if I would have went, I probably wouldn’t even be in Canada right now. EDIT- Everyone’s saying this isn’t sex trafficking... yet my city literally had news posts saying that it was.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j8c3ux/i_was_almost_the_victim_of_a_human_trafficking/

LetsNotMeet

Maddykit1

Early Morning Jog

Hi All! Long time lurker , first time poster here. Sorry I’m advance for any typos- I’m on my mobile. This happened about 20 years ago when I was 15. My parents were divorced and by this time had a pretty good relationship. Their parenting styles were night and day though. My dad was a strict military man, while my mom was an easy going, good time Charlie. At this time they were splitting custody of me 7 days on and 7 days off. My mom worked double shifts 6 days a week. She was only home on Sunday nights. Because of this and the fact that my mom was so lax with rules, she allowed me to pretty much do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. In the very few instances she would say no I would still do what I wanted because there were pretty much zero consequences. At this time, my boyfriend lived about a mile from my mom so needless to say, I couldn’t wait until it was my mom’s week. While at my mom’s I would sneak over to my boyfriends house after his parents went to sleep. He was an only child and his parents were pretty strict like my dad, and did not allow us to spend much time together outside of school. As soon as his parents would be go to sleep, I would leave my house say around 9:30-10 pm and jog over to his house. We would hang out until around 1-1:30 a.m. and I would leave for my early morning jog home. During my jogs I would make sure to stay super vigilant. After all, I was a 15 year old female jogging in the dark. Nobody knew where I was and this was before cell phones were a thing. I’m about a half a block from home and at this point always felt a sense of relief as soon as I was in my neighborhood and able to see my moms apartment building. As I continue jogging , I was passing the end of a driveway and this van pulls out of nowhere and stops right in front of me. I didn’t even see it coming ! No spidey sense, nothing! I stopped so abruptly I almost tripped face first into the passenger side door. When I looked up I saw two older men in the front seat with their windows rolled down staring me up and down. It was a slow gaze and I could feel their eyes burning into every inch of my body. The passenger leaned out the window getting as close to me as he could without opening his door and asked if I wanted a ride. He then smiled the most sinister smile I had ever seen. While staring into his dark eyes everything else faded away. It was like they were the only thing that existed at this point and time . My vision zoomed in on them and I could feel my flight or flight kick in. I quickly ran in the direction they came from. I knew they alley they had pulled out from was too narrow for their van to make a turn. They had to pull out into the street to make a u- turn. I had never run so fast In my life. I knew I didn’t have enough time make it to my moms building before they came back so I ran to the closest building and hid behind the large trash can. My heart was beating and I was covering my mouth to muffle my breathing and silent cries. I could hear the rocks in the loose asphalt being crushed by the tires as they slowly crept by the trash can. They stopped in front of it for what felt like an eternity and whispered something to each other I couldn’t make out. They didn’t get out but kept moving forward slowly; stopping by each of the other buildings trash cans. I waited until they were out of sight and bolted the rest of the way home and locked the door. That was the last time I Ever jogged to my boyfriends house. To the two creeps who tried to pick me up and do god know what to me.......let’s not meet.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j7s3gl/early_morning_jog/

LetsNotMeet

RedWhitecodeBlue

Chased On A Beach At Night

This is my first post on this sub, but I’ve frequented it for a while. This is really the only experience I’ve had that would fit on this sub and it felt so surreal while it was happening. So, I’m a 21M and this experience happened last summer, while I was on vacation at Myrtle Beach with my family. We were staying in a resort right on the beach, and were on the 13th or 14th floor in a sort of timeshare. One night, I was feeling restless and having a hard time falling asleep, and at around 3 AM, I decided to go out on the balcony to get some air. I stepped out and was stunned as there was a full moon, and the moonlight on the water was really beautiful. The beach was completely empty as far as I could see, and I had never seen it like that before. I decided since I wasn’t able to sleep I might as well head down, take a stroll, and listen to some music to relax, hopefully when I returned I’d be able to get some sleep. It was really unsafe and dumb of me, but since it was 3AM and the rest of my family was asleep I decided to just head down without letting anyone know I was going, as I thought I’d just go and chill there for 10-15 minutes then come right back up. So, at the base of the timeshare we were at there was an area with a pool, an outdoor bar, and then two boardwalks separated by about 100 feet which both led to the beach. On the sides of the boardwalks there were swaths of tall grass separating the ocean and the resort. When I got down to the base, the entire area was completely deserted, and I started walking down the boardwalk on the right towards the beach. As I’m walking down, I suddenly see someone approaching me from the beach, which was strange because I had a pretty clear view of this same area from the balcony just before and had literally seen no one. I start to get a bit nervous as I see this figure approach, and as I get closer, I see it is a man, maybe in his late thirties, who has a backpack on and is wearing glasses with large, square lenses. As he gets closer, I get a clearer look at him as the boardwalk is sort of illuminated by lights from the outdoor bar. He looks very on edge and alert, almost like he is trying to find someone who is trying to meet him in this area, and his clothes are somewhat tattered. We made eye contact and I sort of nod at him and pass. At this point I’m creeped out, cause honest to god he had a sort of Jeffrey Dahmer look, maybe it was the glasses, and he just didn’t seem like he actually belonged to the timeshare. I shake it off and keep walking down to the beach, and put my headphones in. As I get down to the beach, I turn right and start walking parallel to the water, and am just taking in the scenery. I’m barefoot and decide it’d be nice to walk just along the shoreline, so I move closer to the water and continue walking. I’m walking for no longer than a minute before I get a really really strange feeling that something is wrong. I take off my headphones and turn around, and I see a dark figure that is trailing me just up shore, he is situated in between me and the timeshare. I immediately can tell from the figure’s height, body type, and demeanor that it is the same man I passed on the boardwalk. At this point, I’m starting to panic, as every story from LetsNotMeet is rushing to my head. At the same time I’m trying to rationalize as it feels too surreal that I may actually be in a dangerous situation, so I remind myself it could just be a coincidence and the man decided he also wanted to take a walk on the beach, and just happened to be headed in the same direction as me. So, I take some breaths and turn my head back to the ocean and continue walking in the same direction. After a couple seconds I turn my head back again, and see that now, he is much closer to me, and is not walking parallel to me, but is definitely actually walking towards me. I pick up my walking speed now, and turn my head back around, and see he is matching my faster pace and is still walking towards me and the water. Still, for some reason I think, “ok, maybe he also wants to walk by the water, there’s no way I’m actually being followed by a creepy man on a deserted beach”. So, at this point, to truly test it, I do a 180 and completely change directions, and as I turn my head I see him completely change directions with me and continue closing in distance, and he is power walking now. It suddenly hits me that I’m in a really bad situation, and I take off in a run along the water, and he starts running as well, but stays up shore of me so that if I try to run up towards the boardwalk he will intercept me. I’m freaking out now and just keep running with no plan, but figure that since I’m 20 and sort of fit, I should probably be able to keep running along the water and outrun him, and then find some other exit off the beach and either call my family or head back to the timeshare on the road. So I keep running, but he’s keeping up with me, and this goes on for what feels like 10-15 minutes. The scariest part of all this which I wouldn’t have thought of is, it is completely, dead silent. All I hear is my breath and feet on the sand, and when I turn I only see his shadowy figure up shore keeping pace with me. Suddenly, up ahead, in the sand, I see a small blue light and what looks like 4 people on the beach with a blanket, they are a bit up shore. I turn and look at the figure and bet even though they are up shore, I can beat him to these people, so I start sprinting towards them with hopes of quickly telling them what’s going on so we can all confront him. I really use up my energy sprinting towards them, and as I approach my heart drops. What I see is 4 guys on a blanket, with 3 or 4 handles of hard liquor surrounding them. 3 of the handles are empty, and the fourth is about half empty. 3 of the guys are just completely passed out on the blankets, and the last is half sat up, obviously beyond shit faced, with a sort of party hat on that has blue lights on it, and he is talking to himself. His eyes are half closed and he doesn’t even register me approaching him, even though now I’m no more than 5 feet away. I turn and see the figure has slowed down and is observing me, and then I see he makes sense of the group’s state and suddenly starts sprinting at me. As he gets closer, the half passed out guy’s blue light illuminates him, and I can clearly see it’s the same guy as before. I make eye contact with him and I can see he’s wide eyed and looks almost manic, and is barreling at me full sprint. At this point I decide I have to do something decisive. It seemed like I had underestimated his fitness and since I had just sprinted towards this group and exhausted myself I was afraid that he might actually be able to catch up to me if we just continued running along the beach indefinitely, and then who knows what. So, instead of turning around and running, I suddenly sprint towards him and to the right, which I don’t think he was expecting at all. I catch him off balance and run past him, and I literally am full sprinting back to the timeshare without even looking back. Literally all the hairs on my neck were standing and it felt like a dream where you’re barely evading someone but he’s right about to catch you. The adrenaline was crazy, and I keep running and start to see the timeshare. I finally turn around to see how close he is, and I see him in the distance maybe 400-500 ft away, he’s lost a lot of distance on me. I don’t waste any time and sprint up the boardwalk and towards the base of the timeshare. I jam the elevator buttons and leap in, and start mashing the close door button as I’m gasping for air. The door closes and I hit the button for my floor, and when the elevator reaches I literally sprint back to my room, open the door, enter, and then slam the door and double lock it. I’m breathing heavy and I drop to the floor and just sit there for a minute, not believing what just happened. I crouch and crawl over to my room, as I was literally afraid he might be able to see me through the window on our balcony, and I enter my room. Let’s just say I definitely wasn’t able to sleep after that. Guy who chased me on the beach, let’s not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j79tj8/chased_on_a_beach_at_night/

LetsNotMeet

[deleted]

How I survived a house invasion

This story happened more than 10 years ago, when I was still a student. It has a few graphic details of animal harm and graphic violence, so discretion is advised. A bit of backstory. As with most students, I was always broke, and had a few ventures apart from my part time job to bring me extra money. One of them was house and pet sitting. I have always had a love for animals so when this couple contacted me to ask to house sit for them for the last few days before they return from their overseas trip, as the last sitter has bailed on them and their 6 month old golden retriever puppy would be alone, I jumped at the opportunity. The fact that they promised to pay me the full 2 week fee for staying there less than a week made it just more appealing. Little did I know how bad it would turn out. I got the details, got the keys from the agent and headed over to the house as it was already after 5pm and almost dark, as it was early spring. I got to the house, which was a really nice place, but it bordered a not so good area that was and still is prone to crime. House break ins, robberies etc. It did not bother me much, cause you know, nothing will happen to me. I know, young and naive. The first 4 nights went without a hitch. Watching movies, jacuzzi and just generally enjoying myself. The owners would have returned on the 5th day, fairly late at night. I went over to check on the doggo. I got a call from them about 10pm, saying their flight got delayed, they are going to stay in a hotel and do the 3 1/2 hour drive back the following morning, and asked if I could sleep there again that night. Which was fine, I was already there and had my overnight bag still in my car. I called my dad to let him know of the plans, as I was still staying with my parents, and he specifically asked what the address was. I normally did not give them details like that, cause I was old enough to look after myself. I still believe to this day that that probably saved my life. I eventually got to bed about 1am, and it felt like I have only slept 5min when I was awoken to a window breaking, and I could hear movement and what sounded like footsteps running down the hallway. The first thing I did was grab my phone and just hit redial(thanks to my old Motorola phone, redialing was as simple as pressing one button)as my dad was the last number that I had called, hoping that he wakes up from the call. I then dropped the phone in between the headboard and mattress incase my dad picks up that he can hear what is going on. I had barely done that when the first guy stormed through the bedroom door. I could see his silhouette, and he had a knife in his hand. When he saw me he raised it and came at me. Now one thing to those that is unfamiliar with South Africa and the crime, is that robberies and house invasions usually are very brutal and violent. People get murdered or tortured if they in the slightest retaliate or not cooperate with the robbers. Out of instinct I raised my legs back when he came at me, and when he came within reach I kicked both legs out as hard as I can. Now, I’m not a small guy. I’m 6’3, and at that stage I weighed about 100kg, or 220 pounds, and I was fit and strong. My time not spent at the uni or work was at the gym. I could do an easy 250 pound bench, 350 pound squat. When I kicked and made contact with the guy he completely lifted off the ground and shot into the wall, luckily the knife shot out of his hand as well. Before he got the chance to get up I was on top of him, driving my right knee into his face and in return his head into the wall. I knew that my life depended on it, so I put in some extra force. The guy dropped like a sack of potatoes. But before I could get up I heard the sound of a pistol cock and I froze. It felt like all the blood drained from my body and I became just numb. I remember the only thing that went through my head was that if he shot me that I would rather die than be disabled or dependant on other people that will have to take care of me. He stood like that with the pistol against my head for what felt like hours, but was probably less that 10 seconds. I did not move, and he eventually said in very broken English to get on the bed, face down. I panicked, but thought if he wanted to shoot me that he already would have done so. So I did as he said. He threw a blanket over me, and I turned into a fetal position with my back against the wall, just so if they wanted to stab me that I had my legs and arms in front to protect my body. Now by that time I had forgotten that I had called my dad, and the guy that I had knee’d is still down. I heard a third guy come into the room, and I could hear what sounded like Portugese to me. I could not understand what they said, but I recognised it, as we used to go to Mozambique on holiday a lot and that is the main language spoken there. The one guy tried to get the guy that I put down off the ground, while the other started to ransack the house, shoving valuables into a big bag. It was about at this time that I heard tyres screeching and a car approaching at what sounded like Mach 1. The car skidded to a halt right in front of the gate, and I heard someone scream. It was my dad. The 3 inside the house panicked, and ran out the back door and tried to jump the fence. My dad opened fire, shooting in their general direction. Now I know my dad missed them on purpose cause if he wanted to hit them he would, as he is not one of, but the best shot that I know. And I’m not just saying that cause he is my dad. He is ex army special forces(or recces for those in the know), represented SA in the Clay pigeon world championships a couple of years, has various regional pistol and rifle championship titles and is a gunsmith by occupation. I have seen him hit golfballs at 50m with his pistol. Politics and the racial situation in the country would have had him in big trouble had he hit one of them. I grabbed the house keys and pressed the gate remote, and my dad called the police while he came in. I met him at the front door, and we walked out to the car to wait there for the police. It took them over an hour to get there. Some excuse of no vehicle available. By that time I had calmed down, and started to look for the dog. I could not find her anywhere. I grabbed a flashlight from my dad and started scanning the surrounding yard, and as I got to the corner I could see her laying on the ground. I got to her and saw she was dead. Later autopsies revealed she was poisoned, and the police found pieces of meat laced with poison near the fence. Poisoning is pretty standard practice in my country for dealing with dogs at a house or area that is targeted for a break in or robbery. I was fuming, and so sad. The police was also pretty useless and had a “don’t give a shit” attitude, and barely took our statements. By that time it was starting to get light, and I retrieved my bag, phone and locked the house as good as I can without touching anything, and drove home behind my dad. Only when I got home I got the story from my dad’s side. He said he answered my call, only to hear the shouting and what sounded like fighting going on, and when I did not respond he flew out of the house and raced over. Luckily he asked me for the address the previous night, and he knows the area well to know exactly which house it is. Now, my dad got there pretty quickly, and he said he stayed on the line the whole time, only hanging up when he stopped at the gate. My parent’s house is about 10km/6miles from there, through a residential area. Its normally about a 20min drive. The call duration was 7min 13 sec... I met the detective there later that day, gave my statement, they took fingerprints etc, and the owners got back about the same time. The rest of the day was a blur, as I came down from the shock and adrenalin. Now, that is not where the story ends. About 7 or 8 months later I got a call from the detective, telling me they caught the guys, and I must come to a line up to point them out. I specifically told her that I did not see any of their faces, as it was dark and after the guy held the gun against my head I was under the blanket and did not see anything. She assured me that they caught them on fingerprints and will show them to me beforehand. Which might not be the ethically correct way to do it, but they wanted to have as much evidence as possible against them, you will understand why in a minute. I got to the police station, and unlike you see in the movies, there is no one way glass or seperate room. They bring the 3 guys into the room, and make them stand against the wall. The one, which I was later told was the leader, which was the one that I had knee’d, looked at me with so much hate as I had never seen in my life. He had the eyes of someone that would slit your throat and not blink an eye. His name was Joseph “Dragon” Sambo. He pulled his hand up to his neck and made the “slit my throat” gesture. You know which one I mean. We left the room and the detective gave me a copy of his rap sheet. Amongst others, 4 counts of murder, I think 8-9 for attempted murder, multiple assault, aggravated assault, over 100 of house break and robbery, rape. I was shocked. The detective told me that had I not taken him out first and fast that night, I would have definitely not gotten away so lightly. Now, this is also not where the story ends. 3 days later, I get another call from the detective, saying that I should be careful, as he had escaped from custody and they have not caught him yet. I was not worried too much, as the robbery wasn’t at my house, and I had changed cars, so he probably could not find me. Also, I got my firearm license and carried my pistol on me 24/7. I did not hear anything after that, until about 2 years later, when I saw the detective in the grocery shop. We started talking about the case, and she told me that he was killed during a home invasion. He broke into the wrong house, and the owner was waiting for him, pistol in hand. Shot him one in the stomach and one in the neck. And thanks to the slow response time of emergency services and police, he bled out on the guy’s living room floor, ridding society of a piece of human garbage. I want to ad a bit of info to this. All 3 that were caught were Mozambican nationals. Undocumented and no fingerprints or ID in the system, essentially illegal immigrants. And it is of opinion in SA that more than 70% of all violent crime is done by illegal immigrants, mainly Mozambican, Zimbabwean and Nigerian decent. It makes it fairly easy, cause none of those countries have extradition to SA, so if it gets too hot, they just flee back over the border and nothing can be done to them. This whole ordeal has made me more vigilant, heightened my situational awareness and made me a little paranoid to double and triple check all doors, locks etc. Also thanks to my heightened situational awareness has allowed me to remove myself from a few potential dangerous situations in the years after the incident. But it has also robbed me of my peace of mind. I have since immigrated to a safer country, but I still sometimes wake up at night if I hear a noise. So to keep up with tradition, Joseph, we will never meet again as you have passed. But to his cronies or anyone that wants to try something similar, please do pay me a visit. I will arrange your swiftly departure and reunion with Joseph in hell. And to Joseph, I hope you died in agony for poisoning Daisy... Edit: For those that asked is the violence in South Africa really that bad? Here is a link with some that I could find. https://www.google.co.nz/amp/s/www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8806781/amp/Female-farmer-strangled-death-worker-tortured-murdered-South-Africa.html

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j73emz/how_i_survived_a_house_invasion/

LetsNotMeet

SnooPickles1731

The Sykesville Monster

I just discover ed this sub, and I have been reading your stories. Some are quite frightening. I have a tale from a long time ago I thought I would share, I think it belongs here. I hope I don't bore you. I am now a seventy-two year old man. This happened long ago, but I remember it so well. The background was a series of events that placed me in a mountain cabin outside of Frederick Maryland circa 1969 or 1970. Just say my life at the time was in disarray, I had dropped out of college, my father had died very badly, and I was alienated. I needed to get my mind right. The opportunity to move to an isolated cabin, to live in contemplation and solitude was welcome. I had some inheritance money to pay for it. To the best of my memory I was there eight to nine months. No TV, but books and radio, I had a library card, and I can’t remember if I had a phone. The story begins when a month into my stay, a female Beagle showed up at my door. She was a lost dog, and I took her in. Never could train her to do anything, but I fed her, and she was a sweet, if not the brightest, dog. A few months in, I began to feel a presence around the isolated cabin. Hard to describe, but I felt like someone was watching. On many occasions I thought someone might even be looking in my cabin window, watching us. The next phase was the shadowing or following. I knew the folks a half mile down the lane, woods all around, and would sometimes visit them at night. Someone, something was waiting for me, and followed closely in the woods beside me in the darkness. You could hear it easily, footsteps in the woods, and it picked up it’s pace as I did. This not only happened to me, but to my younger brother who visited, and to friends. And it spooked them, big time. At night, it was out there, around the cabin. Here is the funny thing, I was never afraid, never felt threatened. Not at all, at least early on. There was no feeling of malevolence. I spent a good bit of time wandering the vast areas of woodlands around me. There was a state park just up the hill, and the Frederick Municipal Forest went on for mile after mile. The whole of western Maryland was much more country than it is now, none of the development had set in yet. In our hikes, the dog and I, we came across evidence of campsites, recent ones, in the woods. Traces of fires, old abandoned buildings that had corners that gave shelter and looked slept in. Garbage, food and drink, paper, what have you. Perhaps hunters, but much of it did not have the organized feel you would get from experienced hunters. The last month of my stay there was when things intensified. Maybe he sensed I was preparing to leave. In the mornings I would find small dead animals at the bottom of the front porch steps. The cabin had a small front porch, screened with a light door, and four wooden steps to the ground. A spotlight would illuminate the long front yard, with woods close by either side. Dead animals began to appear at the bottom of the steps, many mornings. I remember small birds, then a squirrel, a rabbit, even a weasel one day. Like they were offerings. I had to grab them up before the dog ate them. This went on almost daily for several weeks. One night, very late, I was awoken by some sound. I lay in bed and heard something from the porch. I hopped up and hit the lights and I saw that hound dog, who never learned to sit or stay, standing at the front door, in a perfect point position. She was shaking in fear. She never barked. I heard the door slam and footsteps down the steps. I hit the spotlight but saw nothing. I went out, he had been on the porch at my front door, maybe trying to enter. After that I stayed in at night more and more. The animal offerings got bigger and bigger, larger birds, a possum, a woodchuck….it was not funny. The final two ‘gifts’ were legs from either horses or cows. Big and bloody, one was skinned, holy shit! The second to the last day, the dog left me. I could hear her in the woods howling on a trail, following a scent. I looked for her in every way I could, came up in following weeks, but to no avail. She left as she came. I moved back to the Maryland suburbs of DC, got an apartment with a friend, got a job and moved on with my life. One day not long after I picked up the Washington Post and there was an article about recent encounters with the ‘Sykesville Monster.’ It described a tall, Yeti like creature, fur covered, on two legs that would pick out a family or person and give them “attention.” I wasn’t the only one. That attention, described in the article was exactly what had happened to me. Following you at night, looking inside the house, ‘gifts,’ and so on. I was shocked! If I had turned on that spotlight and seen a Bigfoot or Yeti, I might still be running. But I think I know who it was. Sykesville, Maryland, was the location of the Springfield Hospital Center, a large state psychiatric hospital. It was twenty miles or so east of Frederick. Back then, many folks knew how to live in the woods, they grew up that way. Country folks. I think the monster was an escaped patient , or just a free schizophrenic who lived outside. This is like all the homeless you see in cities now. Probably off his meds, but somehow functional, and lonely. He would pick people or families to ‘adopt.’ The camps in the woods could have been him. Nothing to do, he would make mischief. I think he liked me, but sensed I was leaving. I can’t prove any of this, just my theory. My monster was very much of that time and place, and his behavior was what I noticed in nearly every case then. I do not think he could have survived until the 1980s. Deinstitutionalization of mental hospitals threw the mentally ill out into the streets and took away the shelter of hospitals. Unprotected, the mentally ill die. Here are some interesting links. [http://www.bigfootencounters.com/articles/sykesville.htm](http://www.bigfootencounters.com/articles/sykesville.htm) [https://www.baltimoresun.com/maryland/carroll/cct-arc-8892cc26-00cd-50f2-837c-fdfad70d93ea-20140221-story.html](https://www.baltimoresun.com/maryland/carroll/cct-arc-8892cc26-00cd-50f2-837c-fdfad70d93ea-20140221-story.html)

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j6yfn3/the_sykesville_monster/

LetsNotMeet

GingerMan027

The guy in the ceiling.

So this happened probably around 10/11 years ago when I was 15/16. For a little back story the legal drinking age in my country is 18 so if you want alcohol and didn’t have fake ID or a parent to get it for you then you had to wait around outside the off-license(liquor store for the Americans) until someone came by who agreed to go in and purchase the alcohol for you. So we waited around, found someone who was willing to go in and buy our alcohol for us and got him to purchase a few bottles of vodka for me and few friends, 2 of which I was with and the others we were meeting after we’d done this. Now as it was around 6pm we decided it was too much of a risk to decant our vodka in to less suspicious looking bottles in the middle of the street as it was very busy so we did what we would usually do in this situation and found a near by food place to quickly run in and use the bathroom to decant our alcohol so we could be on our way. This time we chose to do this in a near by McDonald’s we’d done it in before so we knew it was a safe bet. So we go in to McDonald’s and head straight for the bathroom as we’d done a million times before, as we get in to the bathroom me and my other two friends(we’ll call them Harriet and Kara) all occupy one cubicle to get the job done and get out and back to our drinking asap. And as i previously mentioned we’d done this lots of times before and usually opted to come in to this McDonald’s as it was usually busy which meant no one payed attention to three teenagers running straight in to the toilet without purchasing anything. So anyway, we’re all in there doing our thing when I could suddenly hear a lot of shifting and moving around above us. I figured it was possibly the air conditioning and opted not to tell my friends as I thought it would freak them out. We get the job done and as we’re about to leave the cubicle we hear a giggle and ‘where are you girls off to’ (I was presenting as female at the time) I looked up and see the forehead and eyes of a male who looked to be about 30 just staring out from underneath a tile in the ceiling that he’d slightly lifted. We were all in shock just staring at this guy who proceeded to giggle down at us and ask our names, where we were going and if he could come. We’re all in shock because let’s be honest who really expects there to be some random guy in the ceiling of a McDonald’s. Being a teenager who thought I was untouchable I proceeded to tell the guy that he was a perv and to fuck right off. The guy seemed to enjoy this and giggled a little more still shifting around in the ceiling never taking his eyes off of us. Now I should probably mention that along with pouring our drink in to other bottles we pre rolled a few joints so we were terrified to alert anyone at this point as we were young and terrified of our parents finding out. The guy still staring at us proceeds to ask questions like ‘what age are you guys’ ‘where do you live’ ‘can I have some of your drink/a smoke of your weed’ still all the while twitching and fidgeting over head. He then started to lift the tile and as we’re all stuck in a cubicle with this guy above us we knew the only way for him to get down was to come down directly on top of us, so we noped out at that point pretty quickly. We went outside and discussed what we were going to do and I decided to go back in and alert someone, as it’s a very busy McDonald’s and I knew there would be women and children in and out of the toilet until closing time, I didn’t want to risk that creep staying up there just to spy on them, especially since I knew he was there and had witnessed his behaviour first hand. So I go in, tell a member of staff that I’d been in the toilet for a long while taking a phone call(terrible lie but my 15/16 year old brain was too scared to tell the truth incase they alerted the police) and that’s when the guy had appeared and to my shock they were completely unsurprised, they were just pissed off more than anything. I seen a few male members of staff enter the toilet and I figured they could handle it from there so I went on my way. We still went in to that McDonald’s but never had any encounters with ceiling guy again, we’re not even sure if the guy got caught as we didn’t hear anything about it afterwards. So to the creepy guy in the ceiling watching the girls bathroom with a birds eye view, let’s not meet ever, ever again. Edit~ Spelling, grammar and just generally fixing the wording where I’d went wrong. TLDR~ Went in to McDonald’s to decant vodka in to less suspicious bottles and a creep appeared in the ceiling above us through a tile that he’d lifted. Proceeded to ask us creepy questions and staff were utterly unsurprised when I brought it to their attention.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j628h9/the_guy_in_the_ceiling/

LetsNotMeet

damezvader

Jamaican stalker

Back when I was 18 years old I started working at a gas station. This was my first job. Near the end of my first shift, I was cleaning the hotdog rollers and a man walked in. He was rough looking not in a bad way but like he had been working outside all day. As soon as I set eyes on him I got the gut feeling that I needed to stay away from him. Since I wasn't the one at the register there was no reason for him to talk to me. However, the moment he saw me he walked over and asked if I was new. I said yes and he told me I was doing a good job and went on his way to check out. I noticed that he had a Jamaican accent which was weird to hear since I lived in Michigan. Honestly, at that point, I thought that my gut was wrong about him and that I probably felt that way because I have bad social anxiety and had reached my limit of human interaction for the day. I was right the first time. During my next shift he once again came in and again I was cleaning. He came over to me and I still got the bad feeling in my gut. He asked me how my day was and I told him that it was okay. Then he looked at my hand, I was wearing my high school class ring and I had put it on my left-hand ring finger because I didn't want to scuff it up while cleaning with my right hand. He asked if I was married, I said no and told him it was my class ring, he then asked if I was dating and I lied and said yes. He started asking me questions about my "boyfriend" like how old was he, did I want to marry him, and if we were in a physical relationship. I told him I wasn't comfortable with answering that and he got mad but dropped the conversation. He would continue to ask me questions about my love life every time he would come in. After about a month and a half of this, I noticed that he would come in every day that I was working. This was weird because the days and hours that I worked changed from week to week. I asked my coworkers if he came in when I wasn't here and all of them said no. I also asked if any of them had told him what shifts I had been working but again they said no. This honestly freaked me out and I would start to have a panic attack every time that I would see his car pull in. One day he tried to give me his phone number and I politely told him that I wasn't interested in it. He got mad and was telling me that I needed to take it, my co-worker, at this point told him that he needed to leave. The next day he came in and asked me on a date and when I declined he told me that I was going to regret it. He asked me several more times and each time I said no. After a while of him asking I told him that it was never going to happen and that I had absolutely no interest in him and never would. This only made things worse. He told me that I didn't have a choice and that he would be here when I got off work and that I was going to go with him. When he left I called my father told him what happened and asked if mom and he could come to pick me up at the end of my shift. He said yes, I didn't get off until midnight, and about 10 minutes before my dad walked in and told me to act like I was going to my car as normal but he was going to be in there. A few minutes after the guy pulled in and got out of his car and was just standing there. As my shift was over I hurriedly walked to my car, he started approaching me and I jumped into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. When he got to my door my dad rolled down the window and pointed his gun at him. The man ran off and I thought that it was the end of it since he didn't come back into my work the next few days. However, it wasn't, about a week later I was at the store with my mom when I got the feeling that someone was following us and sure enough it was him. We got out of there as fast as we could and from then on out my mom and I was not allowed to leave without my dad. Everywhere I would go he would show up, even when I went to my friend’s house who lived about a half-hour from me. We caught him driving by the house several times. My mother had also caught him following her several times, which freaked her out. We contacted the police and told them what was going on but they said that there wasn't enough evidence and that there was nothing that they were able to do. To this day I am still mad at the police for not doing anything. He started coming back into my workplace and I asked my boss to ban him from the store but she said no. Later I would find out that they were friends and that is how he always knew when I was working. I also believe that she was the one to give him my phone number, because it was around this time that I started receiving strange messages about how I looked, about my parents, and other creepy things. I got to the point where I was so paranoid that I wouldn't leave my house without my father, and when he was at work I would carry a gun around with me. I had to have him drop me off and pick me up from work, and when I was at work any time I had seen a car that even somewhat looked like his I would run and hide in the back room. Even my poor mother was paranoid and wouldn’t go outside without someone with her. Finally, my father had enough and told me to quit my job and that he would help me pay the few bills that I had. Even after quitting my job I was freaked out and decided to go stay with my Aunt and Uncle (who is a police officer) who live about 6 hours away from me. When I got there, it was the first time in nearly 6 months that I was able to relax. It didn't last for long. One night my uncle and I went to pick up a pizza. Less than a minute after he walked in the glass on my door was broken and hands were grabbing me. It was the Jamaican man and another guy, they got the door open and were pulling me out. I fought them as hard as I could, I got a few good hits on them but it didn’t do much good. Thankfully my uncle came out, both of them ran after my uncle announce who he was but my uncle chased down the Jamaican man after I shouted which man he was. That day he was arrested, I cried for hours straight from relief, anger, and stress. Later on, I found out that he was here illegally and was deported. It took me about two years before I would go anywhere by myself. Honestly, it wasn’t until I got my CPL that I was comfortable going places without someone with me. I still get panic attacks from time to time because of seeing a car like his or if I feel like someone is watching me. So Jamaican man if your reading this let’s not meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j3h06i/jamaican_stalker/

LetsNotMeet

mgravenkey

The Monthly Reader-Selected Best of /r/LetsNotMeet Thread

Please use this thread to share posts that you enjoyed from the past month (don't forget to include a link!). -The /r/LetsNotMeet Mod Team

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j3c2if/the_monthly_readerselected_best_of_rletsnotmeet/

LetsNotMeet

AutoModerator

I was carjacked in broad daylight yesterday

I ran a bunch of errands yesterday, the final one entailed going to a specific company's office. Unfortunately, there are only two in my area and I couldn't have made it to the office across town that I prefer before they closed. Which left me with the one in the ghetto. It was still broad daylight and I parked right up against the busy major road in the otherwise empty parking lot, so I assumed nobody would try anything. Wrong. I get into my car, roll my window down and as I'm texting my boyfriend to confirm I ran the errand, a woman appears at my window. She was very obviously on drugs and at first she was giving me the typical beggar spiel; I'm homeless, I need money, etc. All I had on me was a card, but I had half a salad left from lunch and offered it to her. She seemed content but continued to ramble on about how she was in labor (she was clearly not even pregnant, btw), her husband can't come to the hospital because it's against his religion, she needs a C section etc. Then she suddenly leans in my window so that her face is right in mine and goes "I'm having this baby right now and if you don't help me, I'm going to kill you right here" while shaking a hand inside her hoodie pouch, insinuating to me that she had a weapon inside. At this point, I'm fairly certain if I was to grab my car keys and start trying to drive off without her, she was legitimately going to stab me or do something like jump onto my car and get seriously injured falling off when I got on the highway. So I played along, I promised her I'd take her to the hospital and waited until she got in to start the car. I headed towards the hospital, intentionally squealing tires away from green lights, going 15 over the limit and driving as shittily but safely as possible in hopes of a cop pulling me over to save me from this hell. She remained perfectly still with her hand in her hoodie pouch rambling on about things like she's been pregnant since 2017, her husband will murder her for having this baby, I'm going to die if it doesn't survive etc. Suddenly, she erupts into a god awful screech, starts kicking my dash and demands to know why I'm going the way I am, because Taco Bell is the other way. I'm like "I thought you were wanting to go to the hospital to have the baby?" and she tells me no, the baby needs food and reminds me that if it starves, she's going to watch me bleed out. At this point, I'm not sure if she's bluffing or if she was actually serious about the death threats since I couldn't physically see her weapon. But regardless, I wanted to get as far away from her as possible so I pulled into a grocery store parking lot and told her I was going to go get her a soda and food for the baby. Luckily she agreed to that, so I locked her in the car, hid behind a pillar at the front of the store and called the police. They got her out of my car and calmed her down enough to where she'd sit still enough to be questioned her for a while. I couldn't hear what they were saying but they were very patient with her as she was trying to kick their legs and I could hear her screeching occasionally. Eventually one approached me for my statement, told me I did the right thing by not upsetting her and thanked me for calling for help instead of escalating the situation. He escorted me back to the car after making sure I was physically and mentally okay to drive and as I was heading down the highway towards my house, a bunch of ambulances were tearing down the road towards the grocery store I'd parked at. I haven't seen anything on the news and I haven't received any calls from the PD yet, but I hope everything turned out okay and she didn't hurt herself or someone else. So if you're still out there, lady...I hope you get the help you need, but I truly don't ever want to meet you again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j219gs/i_was_carjacked_in_broad_daylight_yesterday/

LetsNotMeet

SlytherinAhri

2000 miles to get here, uninvited.

A couple of years ago, I flew home to visit family. I’d be there about a week, then we’d head to the coast for a week, then back home for another week. I totally needed this break. I’d just ended an on again/off again relationship (like, seriously, one day on, the next off.) It took 7 months of putting up with it, because you’re supposed to fight for what is important to you, right? Anyhow, I finally just said it was done, no more chances, no trying to work it out, just done. So, with that chapter of my life being over, I was more than happy to be somewhere else, surrounded by family, and begin putting myself back together. Got there, spent a couple of days sleeping a lot... my Mother’s a nurse and she was becoming concerned that there was something physically wrong with me. I just needed a couple days in a safe place where I could let my brain work on digesting the new life I would have when I got back home. So, before we left for the coast, I met up with a friend from grade school that I’d kept in contact with over the years. I thought it would just be he and I, but it didn’t really phase me that another person was there. We hung out for a while and then I needed to head home because I had to take a backwoods rural route to get home, or taking a different route that would add another 20 miles onto my trek. Being backwoods, I needed to be able to keep an eye out for deer. So, I said goodbye and told SA that if he was ever in my neck of the woods, look me up and we’d grab a drink and hang out. I told him to grab my number from my friend and out the door I went. About halfway home, I got this weird queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I slowed way down and sure enough, there was a deer in the middle of the road. Because I had slowed down, I could see another car out on the road. I couldn’t shake the queasy feeling, so I figured it would be better to cut-off and go down to the main road because there were more places to stop. I seriously didn’t want to stop in some rural farmer’s driveway. I’ve watched too many movies to make that mistake. So, I get over to the main road and pull into a gas station and sit there for a couple minutes trying not to get sick to my stomach. I ran in to the store, grabbed some water and ginger ale, and came back out to my vehicle, still unable to shake that queasy feeling. So, I started to head home from the gas station and knew I didn’t want to go straight home, so I drove around, taking this road or that road, until that weird feeling started to go away. Then, I went home, read for a bit, and then went to sleep. Next day, everything was fine and we headed off to the coast. Fast-forward 2 weeks. Trip is over, I’m still feeling a little bit fragile over the break up, but that’s all. I figured I would begin the process of cleansing the environment of negative energies and then then work through the baggage that came from the breakup. I knew there was a lot and it would take time. So, the next day, I’m going about my business and everything is cool as can be when picking through the junk left behind after a breakup. I’m really just doing mindless things to zone out and not have to think too much on the activity, since my brain was working full time already. A little bit later in the day, my phone rings. I don’t get a lot of calls, so I assumed that there might be a family emergency and that I needed to answer it ASAP. The area code of the caller (who is not in my contacts) is the same as my cousin, so I answered without a second thought. On the other end was SA, the acquaintance I met at my friends house. It’s a little weird to have him be calling me, but I’m not thinking that anything is terribly out of the ordinary. I asked him what was up and he said he was at the airport. I still find it a little odd but I said Oh, that’s cool. Where are you going? He said that he’d already landed. Again, I’m distracted and really just want to get him off the phone so I could go back to my mental side-step and zone out while my brain chugged away. So, I said that I hoped he had a good time wherever he was. He said that he needed me to pick him up. Screech?!? What? Did you just say you needed me to pick you up? Yeah, he replied, I came to visit you. Pause there for a second... I know for a fact that I didn’t show any more interest in him than general courtesy. Even the tossed over the shoulder Look me up comment was one of those polite things to say because you never actually plan on seeing them again. Unpause... Why did you come to visit me, I asked. He said he felt a deep connection and wanted to be with me. I’m starting to get angry as well as freaked out at this stage. I told him I didn’t feel a connection at all and couldn’t believe that he would fly across country to see someone that he’d spent maybe two hours with. He said that I invited him when I said to look him up. I said, Erm... no. That’s just a polite thing to say to some random person that has made a very small impression on me. He said that he needed to find a way back home then since I misled him. Misled him? WTF? Look me up if you’re ever in my neck of the woods had led him to think that was a basis for any sort of encounter that was meaningful? He said that he needed a place to stay until he could get the money for a plane ticket back. I said there were more than enough hotels that he could stay at while he got himself sorted out. He said he didn’t have any money after buying the random ONE-WAY plane ticket. So, at this stage, I’m flabbergasted, angry, and freaked out that someone would do that on a one-way ticket. I finally caved and said he could stay the night while he sorted shit out, but I expected him to be gone no later than the morning of the day after tomorrow. So, I bring him back to my place, throw pillows and a blanket on the couch and turn to head to my bedroom and he asks if he can sleep with me. I’m like, Uh, no. Actually no fucking way is that going to happen. So, I point out that I have firearms and do not attempt to come in. Next day, I have to work, so I woke him up and told him to get up and find a way home immediately. I also told him that I had to work, but would check in on his progress because the next morning, I was dropping him off at departures regardless of whether he had a way back or not. Went to work, he blew up my phone all day. Wanted me to come back to my place for lunch. Told him no, I’m way too busy. I finally get home from work and I’m chuckling at a text that I got about my dog. And, that’s when I noticed that he rearranged everything, and by everything, I mean every room of the house has been rearranged. I flipped my lid. I asked him why he thought it was normal to do anything that he did? Instead of answering, he asked me who I’d been talking to. I said that it really wasn’t any of his business, but I had received a text from the guy watching my dog while I was on vacation. Color me shocked when he says that he doesn’t want me to talk to that guy. No longer freaked. Full force apocalyptic disaster is about to be unleashed and leave nothing but a smoking crater. The temperature drops about 10°, and I very calmly said to get his shit and I was calling a cab to take him to the airport because he’s fucking psycho. Side note: full rage has been achieve when it feels like the temperature drops and I speak very calmly. If I’m complaining about something, it’s a quick burn. If I go monotone calm and tilt my head to one side slightly, that is where I hit arctic level anger. So he, unaware of the environmental change that has occurred and that the chances of survival are dropping by the second, decides to tell me that he used my computer and got my ex’s phone number and they both agree that I was just heartless. We’re fast approaching the epic scale disaster and he finally seems to notice how deep into rage I had sunk. I told him it was unlikely that he had gotten into my computer because it’s a full quote of a part of The Art of War by Sun Tsu, and that he would have to have been the processing power of the Hadron Collider Computers and it was obvious that was not the case. I told him he had 3 minutes to get his stuff and get out or I wouldn’t be responsible for what would occur. So, still yelling insults at me, he gathers his stuff and leaves. I used to get calls and texts from him. I’d block one, and 6 more would pop up, but it eventually stopped. To this day I have no idea, nor interest in knowing where he’s at or if he made it back. So, crazy dude who would hop on a plane with a one-way ticket based on a random polite comment, let’s not meet (again).

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j1p8nu/2000_miles_to_get_here_uninvited/

LetsNotMeet

thatryguy2009

It was never an accidental drowning

I overlooked the serene lake stoically. It had been 4 years since I was here last. Since I was the only witness to my brother Jake’s horrible drowning – an “accidental” drowning as it was reported – since I watched the lake pull him down and swallow him whole, lifejacket and all, on a calm, clear August day, not much different than this one. The only thing left was the boat he’d taken us out on, and his inconsolable and utterly confused 12 year old brother. Now at 16 myself, standing taller and stronger, and more confident, made me question even more what I had seen that day. Could this lake just drag me down to the depths of hell too? Returning to my family’s summer cabin was supposed to be healing, and it was proving harder than I thought. The only glimpses of joy I’d had so far were the jokes from my best friend Mitch, who I was allowed to bring to ‘keep my mind busy’, as my mother had said. At night there were no jokes to fill my mind, there was only me and my whirring thoughts. My memories, that bled into nightmares. Jake’s face in slow motion, becoming wetter and wetter, deeper, and deeper, into the nothingness. Jake playing a stringless guitar from within the lake, a song from under the surface, that I strained to hear, but was unable to. And finally, peering into the water and Jake grabbing my head and holding it under. Where I could finally hear, but all at once, all too much. Jake tried to talk but was overpowered by the many other voices under the surface. I awoke with a gasp and decided I could sleep no longer. I put on a hoodie and some slides and walked down to the dock to think. Who were all those voices Jake had wanted me to hear? Perhaps the voices of all the other mysterious drownings and disappearances surrounding the lake? There had been almost forty in the past 20 years….. I looked down over the dock into the lake’s reflection almost as if to ask …. “Is anybody there?” Just as I could’ve sworn had heard a low humming of voices I was interrupted by my mother calling out to me, to come up for breakfast. After breakfast, Mitch and I headed to the corner store, a long walk away from the cabin, away from my parents, to clear my head. I confided in Mitch about the nightmares in hopes that he could reassure me that it was just a dream. That I was overreacting, overthinking, traumatized and doing my best to process. But Mitch only made things more real. He only asked about the other drownings, about what had really happened to those disappearances – did I really think it was connected? And what had I seen that day? Had I really seen playful lights under the surface that lured my brother to jump in? Or was it darker? A black scaly snake that pulled him under, like I had told police? Or were those just the inventions of a traumatized mind? The corner store clerk heard our whisperings as we picked out some coke and two ice creams. Petra, she introduced herself as. A local high school senior working her way through summer. She had questions herself. Had we heard the stories? The Slavic lore of Vodnik – a water spirit who hated the boldness of humans. Who used illusions beneath the surface to lure them into the water. Often with moving lights or using his long black scaly tail. Once in the water, you were his soul to keep. He would drag you to the depths of the lake and wait for your very last breath to escape you, which he would catch and keep in an overturned mug in the bottom of the lake as a trophy. As proof that humans were inferior. To mock the Vodnik in any way, call his name, or speak too boldly, would anger him to drown again. An anger that originated when the Vodnik fell in love with a human woman he had watched from the beach. When he presented himself to her in his human form, she laughed, and thus became his first victim. I had to convince myself these sightings, these memories, were truth. I had to see for myself with fresh and wiser eyes. So the the 3 of us, Mitch, Petra and myself, agreed to paddle out in a canoe after dark. The paddle was slow, and quiet, no one dared to talk or speak out loud what they were thinking for fear it either was true or was not. I honestly was unsure which outcome was worse for fear of embarrassment. Once out far enough we weren’t entirely sure what to do but wait. Impatiently, Mitch spoke up, insisting the Vodnik was not real and any drownings were purely accidental. Demons were not real, lore was made for campfire scares, and any lake this big probably just had a gross misidentified water snake. Lights! Under the surface. At first deep, deep down. Then coming closer and closer still. We sat very still, silent, breathless, unable to move. The lights stopped, and we exchanged confused looks. A tail, a slippery, scaly tail. Slowly moving side to side. As if to invite us. As if luring us. Not violent, but hypnotic. But was it really black? Or was it the darkness that made it seem that way? Petra reached out, almost to touch it. But I slowly put my hand on hers and met her terrified eyes. Safely ashore we huddled. What was that!? “Vodnik” Petra said quietly. “Well how do you kill it?” Asked Mitch, as if he hadn’t just doubted it’s existence a mere 20 minutes ago. “Sol,” she replied, “Salt. They are said to die in salt water.” Mitch was flustered, yelling something about hiring 100 dump trucks should about do it. I ignored his rantings and thought hard. All the cabins were fed water from the lake. So maybe we didn’t have to go back into the lake, maybe we could get the Vodnik to come to the cabin and salt him there. The plan was set for the following night. Petra was tasked for supplies, salt, and a lot of it. Mitch was in charge of calling the Vodnik out through the bath water and the pipes. When he acted surprised by this, Petra laughed and assured him it was a job that would come easily enough to him. I, however, would have to face my biggest fear. I would have to swim into the lake. The lake that looked so innocent and pure but rotted from deep down inside. I would have to free the trapped souls. But where even were the mugs? The Vodnik would keep them somewhere special to him. The beach where he presented himself as human, where he took his first soul. “Ok, Jake,” I said out loud, “I’m coming for you”.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16orzwq/it_was_never_an_accidental_drowning/

nosleep

b0zep0m03i

My new job requires me to work from 7pm to 7am. But every midnight, my task is to hide in a special room. Part 2

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16kmq86/my_new_job_requires_me_to_work_from_7pm_to_7am/) To some of you, this post might be up a little bit late. Even though I planned to update you people on this Wednesday, I knew there was a high possibility of me not fulfilling this task. Up to this very moment, my hands are still shaking, as I did expect to go through some strange experiences during my two last shifts, but not to the extent you are about to discover. Last Sunday, I prepared for the next two shifts just like I told you in my previous post. Despite not really knowing what I am up against, I figured that there were some useful things I could get to put myself in some form of 'advantage' if I may say. Therefore, after a little turn by the supermarket and using the maximum amount of money I could for that purpose, I came back home with a machete, a nail gun for lack of something better like a pistol, and some fancy flashlights that I was certain to be resistant to electromagnetic disturbance. Upon arriving home with the items, my wife who was not convinced by how 'great' I had described my new working environment, asked me again a few details about my new job. Once again, not wanting to unearth old matters of contention, I lied to her in order to keep the peace. More on those 'matters' in later posts. On Monday, I arrived at work around 6:33 pm and got ready for the shift in a few minutes. Nothing in that place looks extraordinary, I can assure you of that. No matter the time, everything just looks normal and absolutely not out of place. It is just that midnight thing that is the black stain in what I thought would be a bright picture. Five minutes before the dreaded time, I took the items to the black room and put them in the cupboard, except for the machete. For some reason, I considered the machete more useful than the traditional security guard baton, and I sat with it in front of the monitors, waiting for the scary show to begin. At 12:00 am, the anomaly began as usual at the main entrance as the camera in that area started malfunctioning. Just like during the first night, it roamed around silently, not shaking any door, and passed in front of the black door at 12:17 am. Of course, due to the distortion, I could not see a thing on the monitor, which in turn really fed my curiosity. I do not know about you, but I am not the kind of person to just obey to a mysterious rule. Can you imagine renting a house for example and being told that a specific door must never be open? Without even stating the reason why? What if it is because there are human remains there? I made a bold plan to get a glimpse of this mysterious midnight being. I watched its movements on the monitors which then seemed to me to be patterned and unaltered as long as no disruption occurs. Also, the contract never mentioned anything about the black room door. I can be in a room without locking the door. Even by leaving the door wide open, I can still be 'in' the room. Following my reasoning, at 12:33 am, I stood at the door and opened it just a little, just enough to get a fair view of the corridor. Through the monitors, I saw the thing approaching the black room and got ready to see it with my naked eyes. Something emitting a warm yellow light was approaching, as if in those well lit corridors, someone was walking around holding a flame torch. Before I could see the source of the light, or the person holding it, or whatever it really was, I felt my heartbeat accelerating. Something just felt wrong, and the hair on my skin rose as if I turned into a frightened cat. I could not allow myself to see what that thing was and quickly closed and locked the door. Once again, it stood right on the other side of the door and did not move from there until 01:00 am then disappeared. I came out a few minutes afterwards to a completely normal environment but kept my machete just in case. The next night on Tuesday was the one with the scheduled loadshedding. Once again, I sat down in front of the monitors until the lights went out, plunging me in complete darkness at exactly 12:00 am. At that time, I figured it would really be nice to take a nap, but I realized that there was not even a mattress in the room. After setting an alarm for 01:00 am, I just put the chair against the wall, sat with my legs and arms crossed, and closed my eyes, hoping to sleep as fast as I could. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps in the corridor. Without the aid of the monitors then off because of the loadshedding, I could not pinpoint the exact location of the thing and could not risk opening the door in that total darkness. I just listened attentively till I stood up, getting closer to the door. I retrieved one of the flashlight that I bought in the cupboard and switch it on, only to see the light flickering. Despite that, I could read 12:17 am on the clock as I approached the door again. I heard the rapid footsteps getting further and further until I could no longer hear them. At 12:22 am, they came back, but this time, it sounded like there were at least four persons walking quickly instead of just one. What on earth was that? I thought. At 12:38 am, they came back again in the black room corridor, then sounding like a whole platoon of soldiers jogging in front of the door. The steps were so heavy that the door was shaking until they just came to an abrupt end, plunging the already dark place in an ominous silence. Out of the blue, the thing outside started banging on the door while trying to open it as the doorknob turned. I fell in fear and started to crawl backwards. I wanted to handle my machete but could not even think of where I had put it, watching the door being forced by the intruder all trough the flickering of the flashlight. Once again, everything just stopped and the short and deep silence that almost pierced my ears was suddenly broken by the giggle of a woman. Not a friendly giggle, rather like a 'I'll get you one day' type of giggle. Who was that? I kept my eyes on the door, trembling in fear, until the alarm on my phone scared me even more when 01:00 am rang and the power came back on. There was no way I could set foot out there before morning. I remained in the black room until the end of my shift, thinking deeply about my situation and my life. I am paid weekly, which means that last week, I could at least get half of the pay. I will not lie, that piece of the cake seemed hefty and wiped out a big chunk of my wife and I financial concerns. I came home today morning, seeing my wife and the kids all excited about a few things we could buy for the house and ourselves. There was no way I could take that kind of joy away from them. I just have to keep working. However, before I return to work tomorrow Thursday, I need to have a serious conversation with somebody. [Part 3](https://reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/KyblIzPpE3)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16o4ctk/my_new_job_requires_me_to_work_from_7pm_to_7am/

nosleep

AngelmZeal1

Something is watching me through my window, and I can't look away.

I'm currently writing this from my bedroom in the attic of the house I live in. I have two other roommates, one is my brother and the other is our childhood friend we met during Primary school. We had another roommate at one point or another but he moved out and we haven't seen him since. Everything has felt a bit strange today, but I simply brushed it off as my anxiety; you see, I've always had bad anxiety and there are days where it becomes debilitating and turns into paranoia. And so, like any logical human being would do, I brushed my feelings aside as simply me being paranoid or anxious. Especially since it's been quiet today. Our roommate is out, and it's just been my older brother and I in the house all day today. My brother keeps to himself, unfortunately preferring to turn to the bottle for company unless we're both out and about in the common areas of our two story, three bedroom house. I didn't know what was happening when suddenly my anxiety started to ramp up, but I certainly hadn't been expecting to look out the window and find some sort of giant creature staring back at me. I can only look away when I sit down. That's how I'm writing this. But it doesn't last for long; it's like my gaze is drawn back to it's giant, wide, blank eyes after only a few minutes of looking away. I don't know what it is, but I know it doesn't feel friendly. It's bigger than two double-storied houses stacked on top of each other. It has to get on it's massive hands and knees to even peer through my small attic window. It almost looks like a shadow. A giant, grinning, malevolent shadow with eyes that stare into your soul. I'm scared to stand up and look at it again, but I can feel the compulsion to getting larger and harder to resist. There's this ringing in my ears that's almost deafening, and it gets louder the longer I don't look at it. I don't know what it will do to me, but I'm afraid it might kill me, or potentially do even worse. I'm too young to die, I haven't even fully gotten started on my life yet. I'm scared, but I know there's nothing I can do against some sort of giant shadow creature. I can feel tears pouring down my cheeks as I write this, but I hadn't even known I was crying. I guess terror will do that to a guy. I can hear my brother running across the house now, yelling out my name. If by any chance I don't make it out of this, I hope my brother finds this post so I can tell him how much I appreciate him always being there for me, even in his darkest times. I know I wasn't easy to deal with, especially after everything he had gone through in his early life. I can hear him pounding on my door, trying to get in. I'm going to stand up now, though; I don't know what will happen if I do, but I don't think it will be anything good. If you're my brother reading this, and that thing hasn't come after you through some miraculous intervention; I wanted to say thank you for being such an amazing older brother. I love you. Goodbye.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16oo3m4/something_is_watching_me_through_my_window_and_i/

nosleep

purplevampirism

The Dead TV Ritual

This is a story that has haunted me since my childhood, an experience I went through when I was just a little boy. I grew up in a secluded small town where we didn’t have many ways of entertainment, so strange stories were told like urban legends. One of those obscure legends was the so-called "Dead TV Ritual." The legend claimed that during a lunar eclipse, it was possible to tune into an empty channel on the television and see the spirits of the dead. It sounded so absurd that my best friend at the time, Chris, and I decided to test it, more for fun than for any real belief in the legend. The night of the eclipse arrived, with the sky covered in dark clouds, obscuring the moon. We took an old black-and-white television we found stored in the basement, that had belonged to my grandfather and began adjusting the antennas, trying to find an empty channel. We fiddled with the antennas for a while until we finally managed to tune into a channel that showed nothing but static. We sat in front of the TV, staring at the blank screen, our anticipation building. At first, nothing happened, and we began to doubt the truth of the legend. The room was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the soft hum of the television. But then, slowly, the static on the screen started to take shape, like shadows moving behind it. Our eyes were glued to the screen, hypnotized by what was happening. Gradually, images began to appear, images of distorted faces and whispering voices. They sounded like muffled screams, and their voices seemed to penetrate our souls. The faces twisted, and the voices grew more and more anguished. We felt a shiver down our spines when we realized that these faces were familiar. They were people who had died in our town, some of them still alive in our memories. Their eyes held an empty, desperate gaze, as if they were trapped between worlds. Our hearts began to race, and we had never felt more scared. It was as if we were witnessing something we shouldn't have, something that defied all the laws of reality. The images on the screen seemed to call out to us, as if they wanted us to join them in their spectral realm. Then, a face appeared on the screen that we couldn't recognize. It was a pale and cadaverous face, with empty eyes that seemed to look directly at us. It started moving towards the screen, as if it wanted to exit the TV and enter our world. At that moment, we panicked. We turned off the television abruptly, cutting the connection to those disturbing images. The static returned, and the room fell silent, but the fear still echoed in our hearts. Chris and I went on with our lives and neither one of us ever spoke about that night again, and the old television was returned to the basement, where it remained forgotten until today. Now, years later, I still have nightmares about those distorted faces and whispering voices we heard that night. I think we messed with something we shouldn't have, something way beyond our understanding. Since then, I have never attempted to tune into the "Dead TV," and the memory of that night continues to haunt me, as a dark reminder that some urban legends are best left as legends, untested and untouched.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16op8et/the_dead_tv_ritual/

nosleep

Salty_Handle6671

The Night I Saw a Djinn (Devil)

To describe the setting, I was at my Grandmothers house in a very densely populated suburb. My grandmother is in tune with her spiritual body. She works with chakras and a whole bunch of other weird shit. In simple terms, she's a spiritual healer. This incident took place in April of 2020, which just so happened to be the Islamic month of Ramadhaan. The month in which Muslims fast from sunrise till sunset. I crawled into bed on a Tuesday night as usual. At around midnight I got hungry so I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Upon reaching the kitchen I hear two cats fighting outside. My grandmother lives in a gated complex and she is the only one there who owns a cat. Out of curiosity, I open the door that leads from the kitchen to the backard. As soon as I opened it, something ran across. From the right to the left. It moved so elegantly, almost as if it floated through time. The sound of claws scraping on the floor echoes around the other side of the house. It galloped, not as a horse, but rather a small monkey. The only way I could describe it is it looked and felt dark. It lefts streaks of black matter as it ran. A dark and twisted aura surrounded it. Unable to define its features I could only see something I'd describe as a black entity of nothingness. Grabbing a broom that was against the wall, I chased it as soon as it initially ran past the door. I cut the corner half a second after it did and It was no where to be seen. Vanished into thin air. Keep in mind, this is still Tuesday night. Losing my appetite I go back to sleep. In Ramadhaan, Muslims are encouraged to wake up early before sunrise to have breakfast before the fast begins. One can only eat up until sunrise, and not beyond, until sunset. Wednesday morning I awake at 8. Missing all my alarms I set so that I could have my early breakfast before sunrise. I check with everybody else after they wake up and they had the same issue. I relayed the story about the cats that were fighting to my Grandmother, but she assured me that her cat was in her bed last night. That when my stomach dropped After describing the features of what I had seen the previous night to her, she told me she knows exactly what I'm talking about. It was a Demon or just the Devil, also known as Shaytaan is Islam. She has had multiple ecnounters with them, and my description matched what she too had seen. This hasn't haunted me but has been a story I've wanted to share on this sub reddit for a while I try to explain what I saw that night to people but nobody can seem to relate or back it up. Willing to listen to anyone who has any info <3

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ov5xw/the_night_i_saw_a_djinn_devil/

nosleep

Spushaan

My dad told me a terrifying story about Grandma, and I told him one about Grandad.

[Part I](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16m1cro/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/) \- [Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mxfrh/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/) \- **Part III** This will be my final update. Last night, my dad and I talked for hours about, well, everything. “I’m not going to hide things from you anymore,” I said, pulling out my phone. “I took photos of the wardrobe.” Dad calmly took my phone and started scrolling through the photos I’d taken. “Oh, God…” Dad cried, pushing the phone back into my hands. “Do you think…” I started, gulping. “Do you think he’s responsible for… Mum?” Dad winced sharply. “Cara, I… I don’t want to… I don’t know whether I can grieve for your mother twice.” I understand why he’d prefer to believe that Mum took her own life, rather than believe that someone took it from her. And perhaps I don’t want the police to uncover the truth either. Perhaps I’m done grieving too. But what I will say is that Mum’s death in 2018, though seemingly self-inflicted, was unfathomably awful. A mangled corpse in a car wreck. And I can’t help but wonder why she’d want to end her life so painfully. Anyway, I had the day off work — given the circumstances — and I spent it flicking through my photos, searching for answers. I couldn’t stop thinking about the photo of me sleeping in my university dorm room. He’s always watching. That’s what Grandma said in her note. Maybe he travelled to and from their Devon hideout at first, but he likely didn’t ever return after killing his wife and leaving her there. So, where is he now? I wondered in horror, scrolling back and forth through my photos. There was a picture of Mum driving on the motorway — a picture Grandad had taken whilst he was driving too. In it, I could see the dashboard of his car and his left hand on the steering wheel — with his wrist donning a shiny, golden Rolex. But most importantly, he’d captured his BMW’s askew hood ornament — distinctly askew. A sinking feeling consumed me. “Dad…” I said. My dad lifted his head from the newspaper. “Yes?” “Is this the car you're always complaining about…?” I asked, showing him the photo. My dad’s eyes widened, and he slowly nodded at me, face turning a ghostly shade. For the past few years, he’d been moaning, on and off, about spotting a BMW with that exact shabby ornament around our village. Parked in places that it shouldn’t be parked. But it always moved before he could do anything about it. “I think we need to call the police,” He said. I nodded, feeling more than a little queasy. Dad couldn’t remember when or where he’d last seen the vehicle. As I said, my dad’s memory is awful. But I was sure it was only a month or so ago that he moaned about it being parked on a double-yellow line around the corner from our street. That meant Grandad had been here for years. Am I one of his victims or not? I wondered, continuing to scroll through the photos whilst my dad talked to the police. Every photo of my mother and me had been taken at night. He used the flash-light on his phone or the headlights of his car to illuminate his surroundings. And that made me think of other unusual things from the past few years. For instance, I often forget to draw my curtains before bed — foolish, given that I’m a light sleeper. And since lockdown, I can think of numerous occasions on which I was rudely awakened in the early hours of the morning. A car’s blinding full-beam headlights would fill my small room. Every time, I’d grumpily get up and draw my curtains. That wouldn't completely block out the light from the road, but the car, strangely, would always drive away shortly afterwards. As if there were no point in staying without being able to see through my window. Another unusual thing comes to mind when I think of that dreaded photo Grandad took in my dorm room. Could he have been watching me sleep back home? I’m a forgetful person. I think we’ve established that. But at least once a week, I’ve been waking in the morning to find my bedroom door ever-so-slightly ajar. And I’m fairly certain I rarely forget to close it. That terrifies me more than anything. The thought that he has been in our house. Close enough to touch me. “Thank you, officer,” My dad said, hanging up the phone and turning to me. “They’re going to keep an eye out for a car that matches the description. As for the broader investigation into his location, they’re looking into missing person cases from recent years. The detective is going to come over here personally and talk to us about moving somewhere safer — somewhere Grandad can’t find us.” “Won’t Grandad just follow us?” I asked, trembling. Dad hugged me. “I know you’re scared, Cara, but it’s going to be okay. The police have it under control.” As we waited for Detective Simon Smith — I’m not using his real name, for obvious reasons — all I could think about was the fact that the police didn’t seem to have anything under control. They’d known of this horror for fourteen years, and they were no closer to solving anything. Anyway, I wasn't expecting a dingy, brown Ford Focus to pull onto our driveway. I suppose detectives in TV shows and films lead a more glamorous lifestyle. The man who exited the car must’ve been in his early thirties, though his coarse skin aged him. He had thinning, damaged hair, but a neatly-trimmed beard. He wore a smart, grey trench coat and black gloves. In that way, he seemed to conform to Hollywood stereotypes of the typical detective. “Nice to see you again, John,” He said, shaking hands with my dad. “Same to you, Simon,” Dad replied. “What’s it been, four years?” Simon nodded. “About that, yes. I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve had anything to tell you. The case was, admittedly, gathering dust until yesterday’s discovery. And this is our hero, Cara, I presume?” I nodded my head, shaking his hand. “I’m really sorry, Cara,” Simon said sombrely. “What you saw in that house was... something nobody should ever have to see. But you’re incredibly brave and undoubtedly smart. Perhaps a career in detective work is on the cards for you?” I smiled weakly. “Right, well, I think the first thing we should do is find alternative accommodation for the two of you. How does that sound?” Simon asked. “But my Grandad will just follow us,” I protested. “He won’t, I assure you,” Simon replied. “I’ll be checking my tail the whole way.” “How long will we have to stay away?” My dad asked. “What if you never find my father?” Simon shook his head. “We’ll find him, John. Don’t you worry. You’ve both been a massive help with this investigation. We’ve already found a BMW matching your description on numerous recent CCTV tapes from business owners in town. I don’t think it’ll be long before he rears his ugly head.” Realising that arguing was futile, I went upstairs and packed a bag. And ten minutes later, with our most important belongings in hand, we walked with Detective Smith to his battered Ford Focus. “So, where are you taking us?” Dad asked as we clambered inside and buckled our seatbelts. “A Travelodge in Manchester,” Simon replied. “With any luck, we’ll have him before the end of the week.” As we set off, I watched my quaint little village roll by the passenger-side window. The sun was setting, but the sky was still a calming blue — a settled, safe world surrounded me, in contrast to the rainy, chaotic few days which preceded it. “So, how did you do it, Cara?” Simon asked. I looked away from the window. “What?” “How did you figure out where to find your grandad?” He asked. I shrugged, nervously locking eyes with Simon in the rear-view mirror. “Grandma left clues.” Simon chuckled, parroting what I’d said. “Grandma left clues… Remarkable. I’m serious, you really should join the force. You’re a damn sight better at this than me.” It was as the car turned sharply onto a country road that I first noticed it. The sleeve of Simon’s trench coat lifted as he steered to the left, and it revealed something beneath his black glove. A golden Rolex. My stomach immediately lurched. “Won’t this way take us longer, Simon? We should’ve turned right to head towards Manchester,” My dad pointed out. Simon didn’t reply. And we very suddenly found ourselves on a bumpy, disused road, dwarfed on either side by towering oak trees. The daylight was fading, and I found myself gripped by unimaginable terror — completely unable to say anything. Unable to process what I'd seen. “Simon? Where are we going?” Dad asked. “Dad…” I finally managed to croak. “I want to go home.” “You are home, Cara,” Simon finally replied. He brought the Ford Focus to a stop in the middle of a wooded clearing. Far from civilisation. Far from anything but a small, lightless shack of a house. And then there was a clicking noise. “What...?” My dad began. “Get out of the car,” Simon replied, pointing what I realised to be a handgun at my father. “What the fuck is—” My dad continued. “— I won’t tell you again,” Simon warned. As my dad shakily opened the door and stepped outside, Simon turned the gun onto me. His eyes were suddenly as untamed as his hair. “You too, Detective,” He said. “Get the fuck out.” My dad opened the door for me, and we embraced as Simon quickly got out of the driver’s side, pointing the gun at both of us. “Walk in front of me,” He ordered. “Head towards the front door, and don’t run.” As we walked, I didn’t dare look back at the lunatic. I huddled closely to my dad and prayed that the nightmare would end. We could barely see our feet in the pitch-black forest, but we managed to stumble towards the front path of the shack. “Open the door, John,” Simon said. My dad lightly pushed the rickety wooden door, and it opened onto a black chasm. “Move!” Simon growled. “We can’t see,” My dad said. Something prodded me in the back, and I turned slightly to see a torch in Simon’s spare hand. He eyed me coldly until I took it. I was afraid to turn it on because part of me already knew what I would see. But it was worse. So much worse than the caravan. My dad yelled, but I didn’t voice my terror. Of course, I was certainly just as horrified to be faced with rotten walls, mostly covered in brown hair, but it was exactly what I expected. What I hadn’t expected was the floors — stained a dark brownish or reddish colour. I think I know what it must have been, but there was just so much of it. Too much of it. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” Simon gleefully whispered in my ear, pointing at the walls. “Underneath that soft, silky, brown blanket, you’ll find a sturdy under-layer of smooth, skin-covered plaster.” I uttered an involuntary yelp. Simon giggled. “Don’t worry, Cara. It decays, as do all beautiful things. We can always go downstairs for more… But don’t you worry about Downstairs.” My dad and I embraced one another again. “Head to the end of the corridor,” Simon barked. “What are you doing, Simon?” My dad asked as we walked along the hair-walled, bloody-floored hallway through an empty, derelict bungalow. “Don’t ask me,” Simon replied, nodding at the door ahead. I shone the torch on the door handle, and my dad obliged Simon’s request, twisting it. As the door lightly creaked open, I cast the light above my father’s shoulder, not daring to squeeze past him — I hid in fear. And my father’s gasp told me that greater horrors lurked inside the following room. “Dad…” My father gasped. I stepped inside, knees quaking, and found myself standing in a living room much like the one in Grandad’s caravan. It was coated, much like the corridor, with interlaced hair blankets — every wall, floor, and furnishing. Everything but the fireplace, which burnt brightly enough for me to finally turn off the torch. And then there was the man himself, sitting atop a brown-haired throne with its back to the fire. My grandfather. The Bogeyman. But he was barely a shadow. 80 years old, at the very least, and he was an emaciated, skeletal man. How could such a pale, weak thing strike so much fear in me? “*Sit*,” Grandad wheezed. Simon prodded the gun into each of our backs, and he shut the door behind us. My father and I sat on the soft, hairy floor, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to projectile-vomit again. My dad was crying. “Why are you doing this to us, Dad? We’re your family.” “Family...” Grandad repeated thoughtfully. He was little more than a silhouette with the fireplace behind him. A dark outline. A faceless monster. And before Grandad could elaborate, Simon walked to the side of his master’s throne. “You really don’t know who I am, do you, John?” Simon laughed, prodding the gun aggressively in my direction. “Why don’t you tell her about her mother? Your slut of a wife.” Simon laughed manically, and the light of the crackling flames danced across his scruffy, patchy head of brunette hair. “What are you talking about?” Dad asked in a croaky whisper. “What are you talking about?” Simon mocked. “You and Rachel. You were 16 and in love. It was the graduation prom. Your whore passed out and got knocked up.” Dad had tears in his eyes, and he turned to me. “She was raped, Cara. We didn’t want you to know… We wanted to spare you that story. It was long before you came along.” My father weaved his fingers into mine, gripping my hand tightly. I managed a smile and nodded through my tears. This seemed to anger Simon. “Look at me…” Simon said. But Dad didn't. “*Look at me, you coward!*” The psychopath screamed, suddenly unloading a round into the wall. The deafening roar of the handgun petrified me. I shrieked, squeezing the life out of my father’s hand. Dad quickly lifted his head to lock eyes with the crazed man standing before us. “Tell her,” Simon said calmly. “Tell her who I am.” Dad’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, finally having come to a realisation. “Yes, John,” Simon said. “It’s me. The rotten... thing that the two of you simply discarded at an orphanage. 34 years ago. A helpless baby. Abandoned by my mother and my…” Simon paused, smiling slightly. “… Brother,” Grandad finished. Silence filled the air as my grandfather’s single word coursed through the room. The horror of the revelation struck me before my brain had even caught up. “What do you mean?” My dad whispered, though I knew he’d heard and understood, just as I had. “He saved me,” Simon said. “Father saved me from the dump in which you left me.” “Father…?” My dad cried, shaking violently. “She was perfect, your Rachel,” Grandad coughed. “Her hair. Perfect. When your mother grew old... Rachel became the new key to my pure bloodline.” Dad, face smeared with tears, started to wail. And I simply continued to tremble. This was far more terrible than anything I ever could have imagined. “Don’t cry, Brother,” Simon whispered. “Your pain won’t last long. You’ll join the wall soon.” “Patience, Son,” Grandad croaked as loudly as he could muster. “There is an order to these things.” “Sorry, Father,” Simon whimpered. “The Catalogue?” Grandad nodded lightly, and his son — brother to both my father and me — scurried out of the room in fear. The man on the vile throne then cast his gaze to me. With his back to the flames, I could scarcely see his face, but I caught a glimmer of something in the demon’s eyes. Joy, perhaps. A demented form of joy. “Cara,” He muttered. “There is another thing I have longed to tell you. Something your... father doesn't know. Come closer.” Lip quivering, I crawled across the floor, releasing my father’s hand, and stopped inches in front of my grandad’s throne. The man unfurled one of his shaky fists, caressing my cheek with terrifyingly gnarled, inhuman fingers. He leaned forwards to whisper in my ear, and his following words will haunt me to end of my days. “You are Rachel’s daughter, but you are also a child of *my* purest bloodline,” He groaned. “You will inherit my gift soon enough.” I still want to pretend I misinterpreted him. But I know I didn't. I understood him perfectly. He was never my grandad. He was my father. I crawled backwards, horrified and disbelieving eyes stretched wide. I crawled straight into my real father’s warm, comforting arms. How did this monster rape my mother twice? Sweets, I imagine. And now I fear what he might have been doing to me in my sleep over the years. “Why did you kill her?” My dad blubbered. Grandad sighed, though it was little more than a strained wheeze. “All perfect things must be preserved in The Catalogue. Otherwise, they tarnish.” Simon re-entered the room, and I turned to see that he was holding a Polaroid camera in his free hand. “They’re ready to be catalogued, Father, and—” Simon began. Everything happened quickly. My father, utilising Simon’s brief moment of distraction, sprang towards him. He propelled from the floor with such speed and force that, when he collided with the detective, the two of them hurtled through the open doorway into the main corridor. And my grandad — if I should even call him that anymore — howled like a wounded wolf, supporting himself on the armrests of his throne and attempting to stand. I don’t know what overcame me. But my body moved before my mind had even registered the situation. I lurched forwards and roughly thrust my hands into my grandfather’s bony, shrivelled chest. He felt cold. Even by the fire, he felt cold. He and his throne of matted hair fell into the inferno, and he screeched at a piercing volume as the flames ensnared him. I stood in a frozen position, witnessing a truly horrifying spectacle of burning hair, flesh, and whatever else formed the Bogeyman. But it was all over far quicker than I expected. He was reduced to a charred mess, concealed by flame. “Father!” I heard Simon splutter in pain. I turned to see my dad knelt on the madman’s chest, launching punch after punch into his bloody, bruised face. “Cara!” Dad shouted, not taking his eyes off the monster he was bludgeoning to death. “Call the police!” I quickly scooped my phone out of my pocket, dialled 999, and the rest is a blur. My dad managed to stop just short of killing Simon. I had nightmares of the detective’s corrupt fellow police officers bailing him out and arresting us instead, but they swiftly surrounded the house and apprehended Simon without a moment’s hesitation. I hope he never sees the light of day, but perhaps we should have pushed him in the fire too. Is that my Grandad speaking? Have I inherited his insane bloodlust as he promised? I think I eyed the fireplace in a trance for a good hour or so. Eventually, I managed to pull my gaze away and leave with my father. Though there was nothing of Grandad left at that point, I just had to be sure I'd burnt him to ashes. He spent so many years living in the shadows — an immortal spectre that watched us night and day. I suppose I’ll never *truly* believe that he’s gone for good. After all, the Bogeyman is dead, but his bloodline lives. [X](https://www.reddit.com/r/dominiceagle)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16o07a7/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/

nosleep

Theeaglestrikes

There Is Something Wrong With My Neighbors Dog.

My Name is Anna, and I just moved to a new neighborhood with my Shitz Shu Toby. We moved to a small quaint town in Oregon, with a population of around 5000 people. I'm going to leave out anymore detail In fear that someone Will go looking for the horrid things I bore witness to. When I first moved to the small Oregon suburb, I made it a priority to introduce myself to my new neighbors, mostly because I'm new to town and desperately need friends. I decided to start my neighbor meeting "escapade" with the house across the street. The house was a older two story brick home, and absolutely stunning If you can ignore the 12 foot fence around back. Even with the obviously distracting fence, the home was infinitely more beautiful than mine, with its peeling siding, and rotting porch. "At least I have a doggy door for Toby." I said out loud while crossing the street, and stepping up onto my neighbors porch. I walked up to the old wooden door and knocked lightly. Almost immediately after, a small old, and dainty man opened the door. "what do you want?" He scorned quickly. "Oh hello." I said, letting my anxiety get the best of me. "My name is Anna, my dog and I just moved in across the street." I stated. Just as the words left my mouth, the mans face turned ghost white. "You have dogs?" the man said, as though he was taken aback by the situation. "Well, just the one. He's a sh-" Just as I was about to finish my sentence, the man interrupted. "Keep your dog away from my fence, I don't ever want to see it on my property!" The man shouted, as he was closing his door. Shaken by this interaction, I decided to cut my neighbor meeting quest short and went back home, to dwell on what had just occurred. "Could what he said have anything to do with his comically large fence? was he raising elephants, and didn't want them to step on my dog?" I Chuckled. just as I was thinking about starting my comedy career after making myself laugh, Toby ran out of his doggy door. I bolted towards the door after him, remembering what the neighbor whose name I didn't catch, had said to me. I slung the door open to find Toby just doing his business. I sighed a sigh of relief. "Even if something was behind that fence, I doubt Toby would care anyway." I muttered to my self. Just as I finished that thought, Toby promptly proved me wrong by growling at the fence. My whole body tensed up. But what horrified me even more what ever growled back. It growled as if it had just learned how by trying to mimic Toby. My mind quickly fabricated a story to ease itself. "Maybe the neighbor has a special needs dog or something, and doesn't want Toby to bully it." I thought naively. after calming down, I grabbed Toby and made my way back home. I walked in the door and was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea, this didn't yield too much concern, as nausea was a common symptom with my anxiety. However, this wave of anxiety was overwhelmingly intense. I dropped Toby on the floor, and stumbled over to my couch to lay down. Just as soon as my head hit the arm rest, I lost consciousness. After what had to have been hours, I awoke in a cold sweat. I sat up in a daze while reaching for my phone so I could check the time. A feeling of sorrow hit me when the clock read 3:00 A.M. "Great there goes my sleep schedule." I muttered. Just as the thought left my mind I heard barking outside, barking that sounded just like Toby. "Shit I forgot about the doggy door," I said while striding to the door. I slung the door open to the sight of Toby starting to dig under the fence. I started a full sprint to Toby, but missed him by a second as he slid under the fence. Not even Five seconds after Toby got under the fence, I heard what sounded like a dog chirp in pain. "Damn it Toby, I can't afford a vet bill because you want to pick on the neighbors dog." I started pulling out my phone to use the flash on the camera to see what's going on. It turned out being the worst mistake I've ever made. I saw the most gut-wrenching thing someone could lay eyes on. The creature was tall, skinny, and pale. It hosted large, soulless, black eyes. The longer I stared, the more dread that built inside me. The creatures jaw was unhinged, and it was swallowing Toby, like a snake eats its prey, which would have driven me insane If the creature staring right at me hadn't done it first. I stood up as quickly as I could dashing back to my house. Once I finally got into the door, I came to the decision to use what I think are my last hours alive writing this warning. Always respect someone's wishes because one day You may come across something you regret.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ofptx/there_is_something_wrong_with_my_neighbors_dog/

nosleep

Aoylyn

What happened to Jamie Hurst?

I live in a small town which has never had a population larger than eight thousand people, it's one of those towns in where everyone knows everyone and where gossip travels fast. ​ Usually the gossip is very underwhelming. Like who has been taking books from the take a book leave a book box without leaving a book behind or why did Mr. Danis stay in his RV for the night while Mrs. Danis had a girls night in the house. However on a cold night in October all the harmless small town gossip changed to something horrifying and mystifying, the disappearance of the quiet eleventh grader Jamie Hurst... ​ Jamie and his family had just moved into the town a year prior to his disappearance and lived into the small two bedroom house at the very end of Woodlawn Street, the house was previously lived in by Mr. Vernis a military veteran who was infamous in the town for being a very sweet but stern individual. Vernis died four days after his one-hundredth birthday, The town mourned the loss and the house stayed vacant for nearly eight years before the Hurst family bought and quickly moved into the home. ​ The week they moved in is the week I met Jamie Hurst, Jamie was introduced to our grade ten class and immediately made friends with much of the more popular kids from the school, Jamie moved to our town from San Francisco and that quickly made him very popular being the only family in our town to come from such a big city. Let me mention before I continue anymore that I was in no way close with Jamie, actually I never really interacted with him at all other than the couple of times we were put together in group projects. Jamie joined the school basketball team and got the reputation as sort of a jock. The school year continued on like any other school year, Jamie's aura as the new student quickly faded and just like that he was just another student at our school. Before any of us knew it, it was already June and the end of the school year was approaching, now for a lot of students this meant talking about their big summer plans.. My family and I like usual did not have any big extravagant summer plans like Jeremy's three week Caribbean vacation, Diana's usual Montana cottage trip or Petr's summer long vacation to Holland to visit family. My family could not afford anything such as those, we were lucky enough to have the money this year to go to a amusement park on one of the weekends this summer, don't get me wrong I am not ungrateful for this I absolutely love the amusement park we go to and I am beyond thankful that my parents worked so hard just to be able to afford for me to go. ​ The question of summer plans than quickly turned over to Jamie, Jamie instead of becoming ecstatic about what he and his family had planned this summer instead went quiet as he quickly tried to glaze over the subject hoping that we would just move on from him and onto the next person. This was something I had noticed and thought of as very strange and uncharacteristic of him, Usually Jamie would be someone who was very vocal and seemed to be outgoing, whether it be in class or with friends such as this. Thankfully for Jamie though his hopes came true as the other students continued on without pressing on the matter and continued on boasting about all the things they would be doing this summer. ​ With that summer break came, Our final day of school was a uneventful one with all of the tests being finished and teachers being left without a curriculum to follow the day was full of word searches and extra PE time. Once the bell rang for the end of the day the students all belted loudly with excitement and quickly left their desks.. except for Jamie, instead Jamie's expression was that of what almost seemed like fear? I watched as Jamie slowly grabbed his bookbag and hung his head low, I almost wanted to approach him and reach out to see what was wrong but as I had never been close with him all school year I instead chose to just keep my distance. That summer ended up being one of the best summers of my childhood, we went to the amusement park and won a contest that I begged my parents to enter, the prize being free amusement park entry for a month. I swear I spent almost every day for the next month going and riding the rides, one time I rode the Mind-Boggler so much that I threw up. The thought of Jamie and his strange behaviour at the last day of the school year did not cross my mind at all that summer.. until the last day before school. ​ I was laying in bed half excited and half dreading the beginning of the new school year, on one hand I was so happy that I would be seeing the few school friends I do have once again but on the other it was the eleventh grade and the classes I had this year were going to be very difficult.. Boy looking back now childhood troubles seem so insignificant and easy compared to what we deal with now as adults. As I lay there thinking about school my mind came across something that it had not thought about the entire summer, Jamie Hurst and how strange and unlike himself he acted as the school year came to an end. I tried to push it aside thinking about how so many things could have caused that reaction from him, maybe his scores on his year end tests were not the best? maybe trouble at home? maybe just him being a teenager and going through teenager problems? whatever the issue was for some reason that night it was all I could think about, eventually though I managed to drift off to sleep... ​ ​ It was seven AM and I awoke feeling exhausted but at the same time excited and nervous for the first day back to school, once again the thought of Jamie was not present and my focus was once again school. I arrived by 8AM fifteen minutes before the first bell. This gave me a little time to reconnect with my school friends, we quickly talked about our summers. Jeremy was still burnt from falling asleep in a beach chair by the pool at his resort, Diana went on about how when she is older she is moving to Montana and Petr talked about how he barely made it back in time due to his flight being cancelled three times. We stood outside our classroom door as the other students all began to line up by the door, all chattering in unison before our teacher Mr. Cotton arrived quieting the class and opening the door and telling us all to pick our seats, making it a point to mention how the seats we choose will be the seats we will have for the entire semester. I somehow managed to be one of the final students to get a seat, I was left to either choose a seat at the very front of the class or one of the two seats available at the very back of the room. I of course chose one of the back seats, no way I would put myself in the front of the classroom like that Mr. Cotton is well known for believing the kids at the front of his class are the ones who know all the answers to his questions. After about five minutes Mr. Cotton began roll call, Every student in the classroom was present except for one in particular.. That being Jamie Hurst, Mr. Cotton paused expecting to hear the boy call here like every other student but after a minute of silence the teacher looked up and nodded his head in disappointment before muttering under his breath "Absent on the first day, not good at all" before finishing roll call. Class went on like any other class would until thirty minutes in when during a lesson about the history of world war two Mr. Cotton's speech would be suddenly interrupted by the classroom door quickly swinging open. Quietly with his head down Jamie entered the classroom looking unrecognizable from the last time he was seen, his usually well kempt Blonde hair was greasy, matted and looked like it had not been brushed in several weeks, his bright and wonderous green eyes now looked sunken and dark with bags under them making it seem as if he hadn't slept for the entire summer break, the clothes he wore now were dirty and ripped when before he would get upset if he got just a tiny stain on them. Mr. Cotton looked dumfounded by Jamie's appearance and tardiness as was the rest of the class, as quiet gasps were heard at the sight of Jamie. Jamie chose the seat at the back of the class right beside me and slumped down into the seat not smiling or even giving attention to any of the other kids in the class, kids that just a few months ago were his close friends. ​ This strange theme continued for the rest of the week with Jamie arriving later and later for class and looking more dishevelled and depressed. One thing that never changed with Jamie was the clothes he was wearing, he arrived everyday with the same dirty grey hoodie, ripped and stained light blue track pants and scuffed and worn down pair of white and red jordan sneakers. Mr. Cotton began to look more concerned for Jamie after each day. By time Friday came Jamie was asked by Mr. Cotton to stay behind after class, at this remark Jamie stood so quickly that the chair he was seated on flew backwards and hit the wall. Jamie stared right into Mr. Cotton's eyes before cursing at him, in an instant Jamie grabbed his bookbag and stormed out of the class... This was the last time Jamie ever went to school. For weeks following the incident Jamie would be seen arriving to school in the morning only to leave as the bell rang for first period. ​ On the first day of October it was especially cold and gray outside and thanks to my father's loud and noisy morning routine I was woken up by 6AM. Instead of falling back to sleep for an hour I decided I would get ready and go to school early today, maybe I could try the schools breakfast program and see if it is really as bad as all the students say it is. I got myself ready and arrived to school by 7:15am, quite a bit before any of the other students. I believed I was alone.. that was until I saw a lone boy sitting on the front steps of the school, it was Jamie Hurst. At first I kept my distance but Jamie looked up and saw me he broke a very faint and tiny smile before nodding at me to come over to him. ​ Extremely hesitant I took a deep breath and exhaled before slowly taking steps towards him, I had never interacted with Jamie one on one and I already had social anxiety, so that on top of Jamie's complete change of character I was definitely intimidated to say the least. When I approached Jamie my heart was racing as there was a moment of silence that felt as if it would last forever so I worked up the courage to finally break it. ​ So ugh, Jamie how have you.. In that instant I was cut off by Jamie as he held up his hand and held his other hand to his mouth, Jamie then reached into his hoodie pocket and rummaged before pulling out something, He turned his closed hand and opened it to reveal three teeth covered in dried blood. Jamie then began to smile an uncomfortably long smile, Thus revealing a mouth void of any teeth at all. At this very moment my heart felt as if it was going to burst out of my chest, I could not help but to let out a scream of terror at the sight of Jamie. Jamie tilted his head and dropped the teeth on the ground before laughing wildly. In that instant Jamie reached towards me but I managed to step backwards just managing to avoid Jamie's grasp. I quickly turned and sprinted away from Jamie as fast as a was physically able to do so, as I made space between him and I all I was able to hear was the loud and almost forced sounding laughter belting out from Jamie. I ran without catching my breath for what seemed like at least an hour until I was only a block away from my house. I rushed to it and burst through the front door and right into my mother who was about to leave for work, In shock and complete horror I spilled out exactly what had happened to my mother. Her face went from confusion to a mirrored terror to mine. She allowed me to stay home from school that day and called the local police department telling them in exact detail on what happened, The police seemed to not totally believe in what my mother was saying but gave in and told her that they would do a checkup at the Hurst adress... what happened after that has continued to haunt me and the town till this very day..... ​ ​ The police arrived to the Hurst residence by 1PM that day and after several attempts to get an answer at the front door they became concerned as the Hurst's car was parked in the driveway, After roughly 25 minutes the police forced their way into the residence and walked into a grisly scene. Before them laid the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, both of them were badly decomposed presumed to have been dead for months now. The wretched smell of the bodies made several of the Officers puke and many had to leave the house at the sight of it, being small town police in a town with very little crime this was the first time many of them have ever seen something as horrific as this. The officers began to look around the house searching for Jamie, But Jamie was nowhere to be found. The only sign that Jamie was there was teeth, the rest of Jamie's teeth along with the full sets of teeth of his parents. The teeth were all placed onto Jamie's bed put into a strange design... a design of a war medal. Next to the teeth was a note, written in a sticky red substance. Here is what the note read.. ​ ​ **HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER** June 10th Mr. Vernis has become so demanding as of late, at first he only wanted us to respect him.. Now he won't let mom and dad leave the house. He only let's me leave when one of us offer him a piece of us, my parents decided to use their teeth.. They told me that they will continue to offer up their own so I could continue school.. I've tried to act normal but now with summer here I wont be able to leave, I dont want them to suffer anymore, they're almost out of teeth to give... soon I will have to step up. ​ June 29th Mr. Vernis has become aggressive, I should have never unlocked that journal.. Now my dad is dead, Mr. Vernis said I could live as long as my mother stabbed my father in the neck seven times.. she did it. she really did it. ​ July 8th She's dead.. I am so alone now. I wish we never moved here. I have accepted that I am to be next. Mr. Vernis tells me that he will raise me now. I can't sleep or eat, my mom is in the bathtub... I smell terrible but I cannot muster up enough courage to get her out of there. ​ July 26th I left the house for the first time today. Mr. Vernis said I had to give him two teeth for everytime I left now.. I did it, It felt relieving. I thank Mr. Vernis now... ​ August 2nd The bodies are starting to smell so bad, I moved mom beside dad.. I think she would of wanted that.. ​ August 20th ​ School starts again soon, I think I am going to start going. I can't take this anymore.. Mr. Vernis said that if I give my teeth to someone that I will be free from all of this. I need to be free, I have to.. ​ September 1st Free.. **SET ME FREE** ​ ​ Shortly after this the Hurst residence was swiftly condemned and torn down, with the only thing being left is a small garden with a plaque in memory of the Hurst family. It has been over twenty years since Jamie Hurst has disappeared, Twenty years since the Hurst families grim fate... Twenty years is a long time, and I honestly think of this as a distant memory.. I am only writing this because this morning the strangest thing happened, When I went to leave my house I stumbled upon a small baby blue box on my doorstep. I picked it up and began to open it before seeing what it was... Inside the box contained three small... bloody teeth...

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16or4qd/what_happened_to_jamie_hurst/

nosleep

SocietysMenaceCC

Hibernation Phenomena

I woke up one fateful morning to an unsettling hush enveloping every nook and cranny of my familiar surroundings. As I prepared myself for the day that lay ahead, the absence of bustling life left me feeling restless and uneasy. Throughout the hours that ticked by, a disquieting sense of unease settled deep within me, stirring my curiosity and compelling me to unravel the mystery that shrouded this profound silence. Stepping out onto my porch, I was met with an eerie stillness that seemed to hang in the air like a heavy fog. The usual symphony of sounds that would accompany the dawning of a new day was conspicuously absent, intensifying my apprehension. The crisp morning breeze carried a foreboding quality, whispering secrets of a silenced world. What was once a vibrant neighborhood now felt empty and desolate, devoid of life and the joyous energy that once permeated every corner. The complete absence of even a single living soul added to the knot of unease that coiled in the pit of my stomach, fueling my determination to unearth the truth. With cautious steps, I embarked on my journey, venturing into the silent streets, my surroundings mirroring the depths of an abandoned abyss. Subtle changes began to emerge, casting an eerie hue upon the tapestry of my surroundings. The once-lively front yards, adorned with vibrant flowers that danced in the sun's warm embrace, now harbored shriveled and lifeless petals, a haunting reminder of the hibernation that had befallen the world. The absence of chirping birds and buzzing insects accentuated the profound silence, causing my footsteps to reverberate eerily against the vacant houses as if they were echoes of a long-forgotten past. Curiosity propelled me forward, my feet carrying me toward the pulsating heart of the city. With each step I took, my hope grew, an ember flickering in the darkness, yearning for a spark of familiarity and reassurance. However, as I approached the bustling metropolis that once thrived with life, what lay before me was akin to a haunting ghost town. Abandoned cars, frozen in time, lined the desolate streets, their engines silenced as if time itself had come to a standstill. The echoes of hurried footsteps and cheerful chatter had been replaced by a deafening roar of solitude, amplifying my own heartbeat in the cavern of silence that surrounded me. Panic began to seep into my veins, urging me to quicken my pace in search of any glimpse of familiarity amongst this vast expanse of emptiness. Passing by once-familiar landmarks that now stood as quiet sentinels of isolation, a sense of profound despair washed over me. The vibrant cafes and shops that were once the lifeblood of the community now sat in darkness and emptiness, their doors tightly shut, as if hiding from an invisible threat that loomed outside. The absence of people and the haunting silence became increasingly unnerving, leaving me overwhelmed by a suffocating sense of isolation as if I were the sole witness to this strange phenomenon. Still, I forged ahead, my determination unwavering, the flicker of hope guiding me through the desolation. And then, as if the universe had heard my silent pleas, a faint, wavering light seeped through the dusty windows of a long-forgotten bookstore, offering a glimmer of solace and sanctuary amidst the chaos. A mixture of relief and trepidation filled my heart as I cautiously pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside, the air heavy with the scent of aged paper and forgotten tales. The bookstore became my refuge, a haven where time stood still and the stories of antiquity danced upon the shelves. Dimly lit aisles led me on a journey through the pages of forgotten worlds, where the words of authors long gone whispered their tales into the depths of my soul. With each turn of a page, I found solace in the exquisite prose that caressed my imagination and transported me to faraway lands, offering a temporary respite from the weight of my worries. Lost in the enchantment of the books, an ethereal tranquility settled upon me, wrapping me in its gentle embrace. And just when the silence threatened to overtake my senses, a voice broke through the stillness, shattering the spell that had held me captive. "Hello there," a hushed, gentle voice called out, causing me to startle in surprise. I turned around, my heart pounding in my chest, only to find an elderly gentleman standing there, his eyes filled with wisdom and empathy, his lips curved into a kind smile. Relief flooded my senses as I poured out the details of my bewildering expedition, sharing the disquieting emptiness that had swallowed the world whole. The old man listened intently, nodding with understanding as if he had witnessed this phenomenon many times fold. The old man nodded sagely, his eyes brimming with affinity. "Ah, dear one, you have stumbled upon a rare phenomenon," he said, his voice carrying a soothing quality. "The world, as you perceive it, has temporarily entered a state of hibernation. A momentary pause, if you will." With a calm voice, he went on to explain that periodically, the planet yearned for a moment of respite, an ephemeral interlude to break free from the relentless hustle and bustle. During these periods, all living creatures succumbed to a temporary slumber, and the world retreated into a profound silence, enveloped in a tranquil stillness. It was these moments when they rested, rejuvenated, and eventually emerged when the time was right. As the old man's words sank deep into the depths of my soul, a newfound calmness and solace blanketed my being. The absence of noise served as a poignant reminder of the inherent beauty that lies within moments of solitude and stillness. Though unsettling, this temporary hibernation of the world spoke volumes about the resilience of nature and the awe-inspiring power of equilibrioception. Should an event of such nature happen to befall you, as it has upon myself, fret not, for always keep in mind that you are not alone. This occurrence has transpired throughout the ages since the inception of our world. If ever you find yourself in a state of bewilderment or yearning for solace, seek out the wise old gentleman, for he shall be your guiding light. In due course, the world shall reclaim its customary rhythm; all that is required is the virtue of patience.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16on621/hibernation_phenomena/

nosleep

Necrosleeping

My Childhood Friend Disappeared Right in Front of Me, But Nobody Believes How it Happened

Hello all. I wish the internet were around back when I was younger; maybe then I wouldn't be living in this constant state of paranoia. But here we are now, so I might as well leave it all on the table. Sorry if this isn't some well written essay or something, it's just mostly the rambling of an older man trying to make sense of things. I was a happy kid growing up. Times weren't like how they are now; all us kids, ranging from toddlers to teenagers, played unsupervised all over the neighborhood. Street hockey, make believe knights, wilderness exploration, you name it. It was simpler back then. And many people would tell you it was safer. But they're wrong. The story I will share with you today is only the first of a myriad of happenings that have haunted me ever since: The rain was sporadically pouring down upon us, but that didn't stop anyone from playing. Any time it picked up, we'd just find some cover and as soon as it let up, it was back to action. Everyone went about their normal activities as if the sun were beating down on us and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. But me and my best friend Tim had other ideas. It didn't rain often where we lived, so the two of us reveled in any opportunity we could get to play in it. We went around like idiots filling up garbage hood lids with water and then taking turns dumping it on one another. Eventually we grew tired of our monotonous play and decided to take a break and have some ice pops. I loved cherry and he loved blueberry. Ironically enough, both of our parents loved the opposite flavor we enjoyed, thus we had a deal; I'd trade him my blueberry and he'd give me a cherry in return. We were barterers in the making. I'm sorry, that really had nothing to do with the main reason I'm writing thisf here, but I feel like cherishing those memories are the only thing that's keeping me sane nowadays... But I digress... After we had completed our cold cuisines, Tim had the idea to make an obstacle course on the street in the cul-de-sac area of our neighborhood. You see, this particular plot of street was filled to the brim with potholes galore. Tim explained that we'd hop from puddle to puddle, as if any ground other than the potholes was lava (yes I know, lava and rain don't make sense together). I for one thought it was brilliant and without a second thought, we got up and made our way to the makeshift obstacle course. It was better than we had hoped. Each hole was overflowing with water. Our shoes would surely drown and our mothers would surely hit us for having destroyed them, but it was totally worth it. We started off on the sidewalk with the "children at play" sign. The goal was to make it all the way to the other side of the street where the fire hydrant was, without ever stepping foot on the actual road itself. And just like that, like kids always do; we didn't think, we just did. Tim started hopping from pothole to pothole, causing watery volcanic eruptions with every stomp. I followed two potholes behind, as to not get any water in my eyes that would impede my vision forward. It was exhilarating. Tim and I were whooping and howling the whole way through. Our thundering screams probably annoyed all the people inside their houses, but we didn't care. We were both wailing our heads off... until I was the only one screaming. I watched it all happen, probably less than ten feet in front of me. Tim was in the second to last puddle and made his grand leap into the final pothole... but he never hit the ground. As soon as he made contact with the surface of the water, he just kept going until his whole body had been submerged. For the first time I can remember, I was absolutely speechless. I stepped out of my pothole and made my way towards the one he had just disappeared into. Carefully placing one foot in, the only thing I found was the street just a few inches down. I was so confused. I probably stood there dumbfounded for about a minute before something caught my eye. Directly in front of me was a house that none of us knew about. We always assumed it was some old people cause they never came out and we've never seen any kids there. But at that moment, on that day for whatever particular reason, someone in that house showed themselves. He was a scraggly man. Long and lean, almost sickeningly. I barely got to see what he looked like before he had fully shut his shades. But I could still see his shadow standing there, unmoving, simply watching me. Slowly I could see his hand move up to his head, with one finger raised. It was the same motion my mother made while she was on the phone to shush me up. I was never a scared kid. Monsters didn't exist, there was no crime to plague us and the dark meant nothing to me. But in that moment I was scared. I had never felt like that before and I hated the feeling. I instinctively ran home. Ran as fast as my little legs could. Probably ran the fastest I've ever run in my life, that day. It wasn't long until both my parents and Tim's came back to the spot to investigate. I had told them what had happened, too the tune of much disbelief. But they could see that I was scared, so they knew *something* had indeed taken place. But it couldn't possibly be the ramblings of some six year old kid, now could it? Without any sign of Tim, the police were soon called and a search party scoured the neighborhood and nearby woods. It felt like the entire neighborhood showed up to help. It would've been a heartwarming feeling if the story had a happy ending, but of course, I wouldn't be here if it did. Cadaver dogs were brought in, but all they did was follow his scent to the pothole I saw him vanish in and begin whimpering. With the lack of luck locating Tim, police began questioning the residents in the cul-de-sac. But of course, no one saw anything. Night had fallen and the rain had ceased. Many people went home, deciding to go in for the night, despite a little boy being lost. As I was seemingly the only witness, the police grilled me over and over again to tell them the truth. And I did. With frustrations increasing, the cops all but left me be, as my story was not changing. Seemingly as a last resort (though I feel like this is the first thing they should've done), the sheriff spoke to me. I always liked the sheriff, hell, everyone liked him. He was not some chubby donut eating cop who had nothing better to do in an area where the only crimes were local idiots getting drunk and falling asleep on people's lawn. No, we was a *police officer,* through and through. He was big and strong and his burly mustache was the icing on the cake that was his stature. But more than that, he was kind. After I recounted my story yet again, instead of discrediting me and yelling at me to stop making up stories, he simply put his hand on my shoulder and said "okay." I'm not sure to this day whether he believed me or was just trying to comfort me, but that single word meant a lot. "Do you know if anyone else was around when this happened." Again, a question I had been asked before, but this time I finally felt safe to inform him of the man at the window. I wish I never did. "One second," he said and walked off to converse with his subordinates and local residents. After a few minutes he returned to me and crouched down. With a sigh he simply said "son, no one lives in that house." That's when I cried. I cried and cried until I was literally chocking. I know what I saw. The sheriff could see how distraught I was and went to check the house out. He was so kind. The door was locked when her tried opening it, so he called a few of his people to help him ram it open. And inside they went. Everything was so quiet. The twenty or so of us who waited outside stared down that house in sheer silence, as it we were expecting a blazing gun fight to go off at any moment. But this wasn't a movie. The sheriff and his men walked back out and just shook their heads. And I cried again. It's been decades now. Tim was never found. People moved on. His *own family* moved on. But not me. I wasn't allowed to move on. *He* wouldn't let me...

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nwp04/my_childhood_friend_disappeared_right_in_front_of/

nosleep

Jack_Spectre

Road trip to hell

Are we there yet? I can't wait to see granny! Said my son in an excited voice Not yet, buddy, not yet. we still have quite the long drive ahead of us! Awwww... Oh, don't worry, we'll get there soon! Me, my wife and 2 sons were going to visit my parents in Edmonton. It was quite a long drive, as we lived in the fairbanks, so we had to stop and rest every now and then. We were all quite excited. I remember the last time I saw my mother was over 2 years ago. As I was driving, it started snowing, more and more, until, eventually, we were in the middle of a blizzard. I decided to stop the car so we could sleep for a while, I was driving for 7 hours after all Thick fog started to set in as I started to steer the car to the side of the road when my nightmare began As I was steering my car to the left, I saw a humanoid figure standing in the middle of the road. My son was the first to notice it. DAD WATCH OU- BANG I passed out for what seemed like 3 hours. When I woke up, I saw blood all around me... the car split in half... I turned around to see a sight that would haunt me for the rest of my days. I saw the lifeless body of my eldest son, split PERFECTLY in half. I broke down crying as the insides of my son spilled all over the car seats What is this nightmare?! WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIIIISSS?!!! I said to myself while breaking down in tears Amidst all the chaos, I overlooked the fact that the other half with my wife and child was... somewhere... As I was drowning in trepidation, I was fearing for the worst when I heard my son's cries coming from down the road MOMMY!!!! DADDY!!!!!! HELPPPP!!!!!! A smile was drawn on my face. One of my boys was still alive!!! With all the cuts and pain from the crash, I carried myself out of the car and started limping towards the direction of the noise. I always carry a gun with me just in case I need to defend myself or my family. Surprisingly, the gun didn't go off or get damaged during the crash... I took it out of the holster and aimed in front of me The blizzard got stronger as the fog got thicker, I could barely see a thing when I heard my son's cries again DAAAAAAAAADDDD!!!!! I tried to walk faster, but the snow was just too strong. As my son's cries got quiter and quiter, I heard something sprinting towards me Who could run in this weather?!!! I said to myself... In a sense of fear and panick, I aimed the gun in front of me as I saw something rapidly approaching as it got more and more visible in the fog. I could finally see its full appearance, its hideous twisted face, the horns sticking out of its head, and its massive claws As it unleashed a chilling screech, I had no time to react. I put my finger on the trigger as it leaped at me with its mouth wide open BANG BANG BANG It collapsed in front of me as I fired the third shot What is that thing?! I asked myself As my brain was processing what had just happened, I heard another demonic screech Ready to kill, I already had my gun aimed in the direction of the noise, but it was different this time... I could hear the sounds of flesh being torn apart as a woman screamed her lungs out. All of a sudden, I heard my son's voice MOMMY!!!!! LEAVE HER YOU EVIL MONSTER!!!!!!! Oh Lord... that... that was Stephanie! I walked as fast as I could towards the noise when I finally saw them... I saw one of those things devouring the now dead corpse of my wife as my son tried hitting him with a stick In a panic, I aimed my pistol at the creature, steadied my hands, and pulled on the trigger BANG BANG BANG What the hell?! I saw the gunshots bounce off its skin like it was rubber. It stood up and grabbed my son by the neck as it ran away while releasing another screech I couldn't process what had just happened... I was... perplexed... I was drowning in powerlessness, I felt a sense of misery. I put my gun up to my head, closed my eyes, and put my finger on the trigger... I was about to pull it when I heard DAD! I opened my eyes and I saw my son standing right in front of me, I hugged him as hard as I could when all of a sudden KHEEEYAAAAAH!!!!! I felt him being snatched out of my hands as one of the creatures leaped at us and took him. Realization hit me If they didn't kill him 2 minutes ago, how do I know they'll kill him now? I picked my gun up from the ground and went in the direction the creature went in, I kept on walking for what seemed like hours. The blizzard eventually stopped, but thick fog still blinded me. I eventually got tired and went into the forest. I gathered some tree branches and shot them to start a fire, I sat near the fire to warm up After being worried, stressed, and terrified for so long, I finally felt a sense of calm wash over me. I remembered that I had my phone in my pocket, I called 911 immediately, but instead of hearing the usual "911, what's your emergency?" I heard a language I could not understand over the phone, followed by my son's cries The calm I felt disappeared in an instant. I was hopeless, powerless, lost in my own thoughts. Why is this happening to me? To us... I felt more anxious than ever when I heard my stomach growling, I saw a rabbit running around near me, I grabbed it, took a sharp rock from the ground, and killed it. I guess this is my dinner now I said to myself as I was skinning the rabbit I sit alone, anxious, lost, and hopeless. I wanted to write this not to keep people up at night but to warn them of this. I don't want anyone to experience what I experienced... I will probably be dead by the time someone sees this, but if I am still breathing, I will be sure to keep everyone updated

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ob57b/road_trip_to_hell/

nosleep

iloveeeeemycat

I was kidnapped and drugged as a child! Heart Man Part 1

In the bustling chaos of Bridgetown, amidst the vibrant Saturday morning rush, my mother and I traversed the streets of Fairchild Street with purpose. Laden with groceries, our destination was the bus terminal, where we hoped to secure our ride home. My mother clutched my hand tightly, her protective grip shielding me from the perils lurking around every corner. However, our journey took an unexpected detour when my mother halted at a vendor's stall, lured by the allure of tempting avocados. Engaged in a intense negotiation, she released her grip on my hand, entrusting me to remain close and out of harm's way. It was during this momentary lapse in vigilance that I noticed him—a figure lurking in the shadows of a narrow alleyway across the street. He was a formidable presence, a towering giant with a bald head glistening in the sunlight. Clad in an creepy black buttoned shirt and long, foreboding pants, he exuded an air of malevolence. His age, somewhere in his fifties, was betrayed by the deep lines etched upon his face, while a silver chain glinted around his neck. But it wasn't his appearance that held me captive; it was the object clutched within his grasp—a collection of lollipops, a tantalizing assortment that beckoned to me. As if possessed, I found myself irresistibly drawn towards this enigmatic figure, his beckoning gesture akin to a siren's call. The vendor's voice faded into the background as my eyes fixated solely on that array of sugary delights. With a quick glance in both directions, I darted across the pavement, heedless of the invisible danger that lurked beneath the surface. Approaching the man, his presence loomed larger than life. The scent of mischief and dread hung heavy in the air. Extending a lollipop towards me, the crimson hue of the strawberry flavor enticed me further. My hand reached out instinctively, magnetized by the promise of sweetness. And that was when it happened. In an instant, his huge hands closed around me, clamping over my mouth before I had even a chance to scream. Panic seized the depths of my soul as he whisked me away, shoving me forcefully into the confines of a white panel van. The desire for a mere lollipop was swiftly overshadowed by an overwhelming terror that paralyzed me to my core. Tears streamed down my face as I wailed, my voice lost amidst the chaos of this nightmare. The van lurched forward, careening through the streets with reckless abandon. Each abrupt turn sent me crashing against the unforgiving walls, my body battered and bruised. I clung to the remnants of my composure, bracing myself for the onslaught of each subsequent jolt. And then, abruptly, the van ceased its thunderous journey, casting me forward in a disorienting whirlwind of motion. The man, the harbinger of my torment, emerged from the driver's seat and flung open the back door. His hands, rough and calloused, closed around me once more, dragging me out into an unfamiliar back alley. Panic gripped my heart as I was propelled through the dimly lit, dusty corridors of a dilapidated building. Each step echoed ominously, heightening the sense of anxiety that consumed me. Finally, we arrived at a tattered white door, a gateway to the unknown. The man thrust it open, revealing a room enveloped in darkness, save for a solitary window that offered a mere sliver of light. The air within was heavy with decay, the floor strewn with remnants of a forgotten past. My heart raced, pounding against my ribcage like a desperate prisoner, as the man retrieved a length of rope from a nearby table. With a swift, calculated motion, he bound my hands tightly behind my back, rendering me helpless. The knots dug into my flesh, a cruel reminder of my captivity. And then he vanished, his presence dissipating into the shadows, leaving me alone with my fear. Time became an elusive concept within those walls, the boundaries between minutes and hours blurred into insignificance. Periodically, the bald-headed tormentor would return, offering me meager sustenance in the form of crackers and water, as if to prolong my anguish. And with each visit, a needle would pierce my skin, injecting an unknown substance that plunged me further into the abyss of unconsciousness. How long did I endure this torment? I cannot say, for time ceased to hold any meaning within those walls of despair. But one thing remained certain—I was trapped, a pawn in the hands of a sadistic puppeteer, my innocence slowly eroding with each passing day. As I regained consciousness, my surroundings slowly came into focus. The grimy walls of the alley seemed to close in on me, suffocating me with their stale stench. The pain radiating through my body was unbearable, as if every nerve ending had been set ablaze. I tried to sit up, but my muscles rebelled, refusing to obey my commands. I was trapped in this hellish nightmare. Through the haze of my suffering, a familiar voice echoed in the distance, like a beacon of hope piercing the darkness. It was my father, his voice filled with desperation and fear. His footsteps grew louder, a deafening rhythm against the asphalt, as he raced towards me. And then, there he was, kneeling beside me, his arms enveloping me in a desperate embrace. "Are you alright?" he pleaded, his voice trembling with a mixture of relief and anguish. "What did they do to you?" I wanted to respond, to ease his worries, but my parched throat could only produce a feeble rasp. My tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. All I could manage was a weak smile, a silent reassurance that I was alive. The sound of sirens pierced the air, growing louder with each passing second. The police arrived, their flashing lights casting an eerie glow on the alley walls. They swarmed the area, their faces etched with determination, searching for any clue that could lead to my kidnapper. But as the hours turned into days, and the days into weeks, hope began to fade. The investigation hit dead end after dead end, leaving my family and the authorities frustrated and lost. The kidnapper had vanished into thin air, leaving behind nothing but shattered lives and unanswered questions. As I recovered from my physical injuries, my mind became plagued with haunting thoughts. Who had taken me? Why had they chosen me? And most importantly, were they still out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for their next victim? I became consumed by paranoia, my every waking moment filled with the fear of being snatched away once more. Sleep eluded me, as nightmares of masked figures and dank alleyways tormented my restless mind. The world had become a sinister place, where danger lurked around every corner.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16okyzp/i_was_kidnapped_and_drugged_as_a_child_heart_man/

nosleep

contencityhorror

Tape 2: Chickens

[Part 1](https://reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/5ODKZIScto) *A farmer approaches his chicken coop, the chicken coop itself looks like a small house, a tiny painting on the wall that looks like a rooster with a smile, two windows with bars and a metal door are all the noticable features of the chicken coop from the outside.* *As the farmer gets closer, he notices the door popped out of it's frame and upon closer inspection, it looks like a professional boxer gave the door a few good hits.* Farmer: Shit! *The farmer quickly enters the chicken coop, expecting the worst, he starts counting his chickens, with a disappointed look on his face, he takes out his phone and calls someone.* Farmer (On the phone): Hey! I know you're busy and all, but I really need your help, something big tore down the door of the coop and even took one of my chicken as it's dinner. Can you hop over here and help me change the door, I'll pay 'ya a hefty sum of cash! *The farmer finishes his phone call, seemingly satisfied with how it went.* *While he waits for the replacement door, he tries to find out what took one of his chickens, he stares at the chickens walking on the sawdust bedding, he tries to find any sign of struggle, blood or flesh, unfortunately he only sees the usual, noisy chickens walking on the sawdust bedding without a care in the world.* *20 Minutes pass.* *The farmer's friend carrying a seemingly impregnable door joins him, they shake hands and hastily get to work.* *Some time passes, the new door is successfully installed.* Farmer (Hands out a wad of cash): I owe you one, bud! Take this, you earned it! *The farmer's friend takes the wad of cash with a smile.* Farmer's friend: Let's just hope whatever broke down your first door doesn't come back, actually it would work well for me if it came back to wreck this door too, changing a door for this much moolah is well worth it! Farmer: Cheeky bastard! Don't get your hopes up, I think this door will hold! *The farmer's friend wishes him farewell and leaves.* *The farmer gives his chickens fresh food and water, then locks the new chicken coop door and leaves.* *The farmer once again approaches the chicken coop, looks like one day has passed.* *This time, the door looks to be in pristine condition, a big smile appears on the farmer's face as he notices the door hasn't been penetrated.* *The farmer unlocks the door and enters the chicken coop.* *Instinctively he takes a look at his chickens.* *The farmer's bright smile turns into an angry expression.* Farmer: Damn it! How? *The farmer once again calls his friend.* Farmer (On the phone): Man, you won't believe me! The door's all good, and yet one god-damned chicken is missing again! Something got away with it even though the windows have iron bars and the door looks like it's damn near bullet proof. I'll need to borrow your security camera, just for a little while, three days is more than enough, I have to see for myself what the hell's happening here! *About 20 minutes pass.* *The farmer's friend joins him once again, they quickly shake hands and get to work.* *The camera is quickly set-up, it points directly to the chicken coop.* Farmer's friend: Well, I don't know what kind of animal is killing your chickens, my guess is a bear that learned a lot from Houdini! Whatever the hell it is, the camera will catch it live and you're finally going to find out who or what your troublemaker really is! Farmer: Yeah, I hope so. Don't worry, I'll return the cam in three days, just like I said! Farmer's friend: Best of luck to 'ya! *Once again the two friends part ways, the farmer locks the door and leaves.* *A day passes, The farmer does the usual routine, but this time, no chicken is missing.* *The same thing happens for two more days, it seems the farmer's luck finally changed for the better.* *The farmer's friend arrives to pick up the camera.* Farmer's friend: So, did you find out what the mystery intruder was? Farmer: Not at all, three whole days passed and nothing unusual happened, I even reviewed the surveillance footage, all I could see is just boring old chickens! Farmer's friend: Weird, looks like the mystery beast went on it's merry way, I guess it got sick of eating chicken every day! Farmer: May it never return! *The two friends part ways one last time, the farmer locks the door of the chicken coop and leaves.* *It looks like it's nighttime, the chicken coop is shown from the inside* *The sawdust bedding rustles, the chickens all run to one corner, they look to be in distress.* *A lanky humanoid figure with short goatlike horns, emerges from the sawdust.* *The mysterious creature lets out a deep yawn and stretches it's long arms, just like anyone would after a good night's sleep.* *Without even a moment of hesitation, the creature lunges at the chickens, it grabs two of them by the neck, putting them in it's tight grip.* *The creature calmly approaches the door of the chicken coop, a quick cracking sound is heard as the creature easily snaps the necks of the two chickens.* *The creature puts down the lifeless bodies of the chickens down for a moment, with surprising power and speed, it starts punching the door.* *Not even 20 hits are needed and the door pops out of it's frame.* *The creature picks up both chickens, and slowly exits the chicken coop.* *TAPE ENDS.* *The same warning appears just like last time.* *Not willing to waste any time and risk getting heavily injured, I quickly take out the tape out of the VCR and put in the next tape.* *Tape 3: Butcher, Begins.*

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ntvxy/tape_2_chickens/

nosleep

GeneralP123

The International Space Station stopped responding 2 days ago.

The International Space Station stopped responding to transmissions 2 days ago. If you Google The ISS you will get all kinds of answers for its purpose. Some sites will claim it is purely for scientific gain and to see how zero gravity affects the human body while others claim that it is for the advancement of water purification methods. They are all lies. You have been lied to. And you are all going to die for the sins of our government. Nothing I do matters now. I don't have much time left. But maybe I can warn you all before it's too late. Maybe someone who reads this will listen and expose all of this. The craft that you are all told to be the ISS is nothing more than a satellite. It is a giant tube that generates a massive field that bends light around it. It's technology that we've had for years and is used to hide the actual ISS. The real ISS is a giant circle with a circumference of approximately 2.3 miles across. Its main body is a white tube that rotates at such a speed that it creates downforce that mimics the gravity of Earth for those on board. This allows the staff to walk around, drive, and even sleep just as they would on earth. The purpose of such a place is to hold anything too dangerous to be kept on earth. Viruses, bio-weapons, and even alien life. Anything you could think of that you wouldn't want on earth is up here and I used to work with them firsthand. When I got the opportunity to come here, I was ecstatic. It was the definition of the opportunity of a lifetime, and after getting all of the necessary clearances, I was shot into orbit along with my fellow colleagues, Ana Woodman and Jackson Price. Ana was an amazing woman. We quickly became friends and bonded over our mutual love of science. We both thought that we were on the front lines of human progression. We would be in history books for what we accomplished…and when we arrived at the station, that was the dream we were sold. They started us off on smaller projects. Simple things like testing how alien life interacted with earthly viruses and bacteria to see if isolating their antibodies to potentially create new cures was possible. But the longer we worked here, the worse it became. Soon my experiments became darker. I went from making cures to doing the opposite, testing how Botulinum Toxins affected an alien's nervous system, or even testing alien parasites on animals and watching them slowly die as black fluid slowly secreted out of their noses… No matter how bad it truly got though, I always had my beautiful Ana. Even when what we were doing seemed unforgivable she always found a way to give me hope that what we were doing would forge the future for humanity. I quickly fell in love with her for it and only a year later I would ask her to marry me. Even though we couldn't get married on the station we'd planned to have a massive wedding when we got back home and even buy a house. I looked forward to a bright future with her. That future, however, was nothing more than the dream I had whenever I first arrived here. Another in the long line of crushed spirits and apparitions that all came crashing down when our actions finally caught up with us. One day I'd gotten word that a new project was starting. Some genius had come up with the excellent idea to infect an alien with mad cow disease. Do not be fooled, though I refer to this abomination as mad cow disease this is not the mad cow disease you're familiar with. This is a specially mad strain of bacteria that accomplishes the same effect through attacking the brain of its host. Aliens are strange. We've only ever discovered a few different kinds but the ones that are the most plentiful are the standard, big headed, gray skinned creatures you imagine them to be. They are the scouts of a race that reside a few star systems over and the government has acquired a plentiful amount of test subjects due to their many trips to earth. Their brains are very different from ours. Their neural pathways are nearly 3x more efficient than our own and have nearly 2x the regular mass of a human brain. Pair this with a special strain of mad cow disease that's been bombarded with every known antibiotic known to mankind and you get the end of the world. Stage one of the infection isn't all that bad. You will experience a mild hunger followed by the feeling of needing to sleep fade away. The feel of hunger will only get worse as you slowly fall into madness. You see, the disease not only takes the need of sleep away, it takes the entire ability to as well. After 24 hours of not sleeping the average human will begin to feel paranoia and after 48 they will begin to experience minor delusions. I can now conclusively tell you all that after a week of no sleep they will be full-blown schizophrenic. Pair this with the now unbearable hunger and slowly decaying prefrontal cortex and you get violent and horrifying shells of humans. During the autopsy process of the alien's brain there was a minor contact of fluids between one of the doctors. I heard that he'd accidentally cut himself with his own scalpel and the fraction of a second was all it took for him to contract what is now dubbed Croatoan-15. From his mouth, the disease was able to make it into the water supply from a quick drink from a water fountain and only 72 hours after infection the entire station was in chaos as everyone slowly began to lose the ability to sleep. The worst part is that they are not being controlled. This is not some parasite. It is contagious madness. The man I mentioned before, Jackson, now passes his time slowly making his way down the halls while calling out for help and if he gets a response will viciously attack and devour the one who came to his aid, thanking them as he ripped their intestines out and gorged himself. My Ana was also not so lucky… And I wept when she asked me to end her life when she found out. She was one of the first ones to be confirmed infected and I agreed to spend the last days we had left together locked in our room. She ate every last scrap of food we had and when it came time for me to kill her…I couldn't. I slowly watched her change. The whites of her eyes became yellow, becoming bloodshot as her skin over time took on a sickly gray color. by the 4th day, her veins bulged from her skin and were a dark, blackened color. Her mind did not fare much better. She held out as long as she could but she slowly devolved into paranoia. I did my best to calm her and for a while, my presence helped her through the worst bouts… But now It's been nearly 6 days and she is currently staring at me from across the room. The power has been cut and life support will most likely follow. Ana, won't speak to me and if I go near her she will lash out at me verbally and physically, biting at me while sprouting nonsense about demons. Her hair is slowly falling out in clumps and she has not blinked the entire time I've observed her. And now she just whispers to herself over and over about how hungry she is and with all of the food gone I know what she's thinking. I know she's gone… And in a way, this is my love letter to her, the last thing I can do. I'm sure if I really tried I could get this door open and leave, but I won't. I'll see this through with you, Ana. You never once left me alone and it's time for me to do the same for you. Ana, I love you and I'm sorry I didn't have the strength to put you out of your misery. I will never see your beautiful smile again and I'm sorry I was never able to give you the life you wanted. This is my warning to you all. Me and Ana's warning. We are all dead. Do not trust your government. Do not let them get away with this. Even though I am a selfish, weak, willed bastard, please do not let them get away with taking Ana away from this world. \- Damian Winters and Ana Winters

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16njv78/the_international_space_station_stopped/

nosleep

DeadStarSystem

I’ve lost my entire family and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.

I was walking down towards the cow pastures at the farm. My grandfather was out of town, so the chores were entirely my responsibility. I was excited, I loved taking care of the animals. My parents passed away when I was young, and my grandfather had raised me. The pond was shimmering in the sun, reflecting the vibrant colors of changing leaves on a crisp, fall day. The slaughterhouse hadn’t been utilized since the early ‘70s, when my grandfather began working in a factory to make ends meet after my grandmother disappeared. That building always gave me the creeps. I continued towards the chicken coops to collect the eggs for the day. A strong gust of wind rushed in and the warm sunshine was a thing of the past. Thick pillars of red-tinted clouds filled the sky as a violent storm approached. I ran toward the barn for shelter, but the doors wouldn’t open. Huddled under the cow shed, I watched as hail violently poured from the ominous clouds. I panicked and desperately ran toward the farmhouse, but it felt as though I wasn’t getting any closer. A loud crash of thunder rumbled and I heard the downpour of rain in the distance, becoming progressively louder. Seeking shelter as quickly as possible, I hesitantly sprinted toward the slaughterhouse. I pushed through the rotting wood into the slaughterhouse, I was shocked when my grandfather called my name from the entrance, slamming the door behind him. “Oh honey, I see you’ve finally met your parents,” my grandfather said as he latched the door. “W-what…?” I whimpered. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I had never felt such pure terror, it was as though the walls were bleeding. The slaughterhouse was much larger on the interior than it appeared to be from outside. The walls were lined with shelves containing the most gruesome sights I’d ever seen - or so I thought, until I looked down. The floor was composed of the undead bodies of what appeared to be my parents and various family members, neighbors, and other poor unfortunate strangers. The entire structure was breathing, it was alive. I couldn’t process what was happening. “What the fuck is this?” I asked my grandfather, mustering as much courage as I could dig out of myself in the situation. “I know this is a lot,” he said casually. *What the hell, is my grandfather a serial killer?* I had always thought he was such a kind and compassionate man. I didn’t know what I thought anymore. “I’m gonna give it to ya straight dear, we gotta feed this house or it’s gonna ruin us all. My daddy did it before me and so on, it’s gettin’ too much for me and you’re gonna have to take it over. I’ll show ya the ropes and what’s what,” he said as he began walking down the narrow stairs into the darkness, the structure gasped as he began limping down the stairs. *Feed the house?* This couldn’t actually be happening, it didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean we have to feed the house? Is that what the bodies in the flooring are?” I asked, in a daze almost totally disconnected from any emotion. “Yep. It don’t like kids, and it don’t like old people. Can’t tell ya much else,” he said, again nonchalantly, as though this was normal, “You can get ‘em in here however ya want, the house’ll do the rest.” “Then how come nothing is happening to me?” “Not sure, it must like ya. It wouldn’t take ya when you were little either. I figured it wanted ya to replace me,” he said. I needed an explanation. I swear I’d never been inside this godforsaken slaughterhouse. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here, what do you mean it wouldn’t take me? When did this happen? What happened?” I asked, confused and frustrated. “I didn’t wanna bring your daddy in here, but he was real mean to your mama and the house needed to eat. Your mama chased after him and burst through the door, you came followin’ right behind. It swallowed both of ‘em right up, but not you. You was gone, and I found ya over by the pond and kept ya,” he said as tears began to fill his eyes, ”your mama was my baby girl, I’d have never let anything happen to her but I couldn’t do nothin’ to stop it.” Streams of tears began to flow down his aging cheeks and he became very pale, I was startled as the tears turned to blood and he was absorbed into the flooring of the slaughterhouse. I hear a low, gruff, and angry voice echoing from all around me, “You have three days.” I crumbled to the floor and burst into tears, I don’t understand. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16o2dhq/ive_lost_my_entire_family_and_i_dont_know_what_im/

nosleep

Organized_Chaos84

My parents told me not to follow the light in the water, I didn't listen. Part 3

part 1: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lmk1j/my\_parents\_told\_me\_not\_to\_follow\_the\_light\_in\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lmk1j/my_parents_told_me_not_to_follow_the_light_in_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Part 2: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n9uwf/my\_parents\_told\_me\_not\_to\_follow\_the\_light\_in\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n9uwf/my_parents_told_me_not_to_follow_the_light_in_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) ​ It was nightfall again, the clock was at midnight, and the noise from the rest of the house had died down. I hadn’t eaten since the incident that morning, I don’t know if I was forgotten about or if my mother was particularly busy, but it didn’t seem like a good time to push the issue. I was starving. I told myself that I was going to go to the ocean, but I was terribly nervous. I kept thinking about what my mom did to that other kid during the day and didn’t want the same fate. I held a pen that I planned to use to unlock the door and sat on my bed. Every time I tried to get down from the bed I started shaking, and had to get back on bed, again. Something came through the air then, a mellifluous odor that I could taste in my throat, that pulled me close. It smelled like the brownies my grandfather made when I was a kid. Filled with chocolate, and bits of macadamia. I knew the brownies must be crusted and cracked on the outside, with a soft and heavenly center. I knew where the brownies were coming from too, it was the ocean, maybe it was the Sea-Witch, calling for me. Somehow, with the strength of desire, I found the resolve to get off my bed, and walk to the door. I took the pen from outside of its plastic casing, and stuck it into the pinhole, I wiggled it while my other hand worked the doorknob. After a few moments I could hear a small “pop,” the door had given, now the dangerous part had begun. The lights were off, and I switched the light off to my bedroom, so that I was in total darkness save for the sliver of moonlight in the kitchen. I waited a moment for my eyes to adjust, but still, could hardly hear a thing. I made my first step into the hallway and shut the door behind me. The door softly thudded when it met the frame and make “kerchunk” noise as the metal bits inside aligned. It was quiet, but every sound I made sounded like a firecracker – I winced. Second step into the hallway. I looked at the floor and then back at the hallway in front of me, and then behind me, just to be sure. My heart was racing. My arms vibrated. I breathed as deeply as I could. I’d have gone back, but that smell, those delicious brownies, I’d give anything to taste one of grandfather’s delicious brownies, so I had to step forward; I just kept picturing an enormous plate full of them, and my grandfather standing over me, wearing an old t-shirt, and smiling at me. My Grandfather would always ask, “There’s an extra special ingredient in each brownie that makes it taste so good, do you know what it is?” “It’s love!” I would always reply and then give my grandfather a great big hug. I missed my grandfather, I still miss him now, the man that I remember him as. A third step into the hallway. I couldn’t turn back now. I was next to my parents’ door. A light flicked on and glowed from underneath the door. I froze, I thought it was over. I was going to get stabbed, and my parents were going to hide my body, maybe in the attic, maybe in that hollow. I didn’t want to die. I wanted brownies. I ran. I ran as fast as I could through the hallway to the door that led to the bower of trees and the beach with its powder sand. My heart was a rock beating against my sternum, I fell onto my knees, and threw up into the sand, I hoped that nobody had seen me. I hoped that someone had just gone up to go to the restroom or get something out of the kitchen. I collapsed, and rolled onto the sand, the smell of my vomit permeated the air, but of course there was something else, the sweet smell of brownies. And I could see that golden light again, dancing, calling me from the water. I walked toward the ocean, and the closer I got to the water the more I could smell those brownies, after just a few steps, I couldn’t smell my vomit anymore, just the brownies. And the brighter that light got, and the more beautiful it became. It was stunning and warm, it was like there was a kitchen just underneath the waves, and my grandfather was down there, just waiting to welcome me with one of his enormous hugs. I stood at the water, and the glowing light glided toward the shore like a will o' the wisp. Until I could see what was glowing. It was a squid, about the size of my head, spotted like a leopard, it glowed brightly – as if someone had stuck an incandescent bulb into it. A voice emanated from it, or from somewhere in the air, “Jeremy,” its voice was warm, and aged. It sounded like grandfather, but I didn’t want to believe it, not just then. “Jeremy, you can’t breathe under water.” “I know,” honestly, I hadn’t really thought about that. I guess I figured I’d just try to hold my breath for a really long time. I’d taken swim lessons and could hold my breath for a whole thirty seconds, if I really focused, I was sure I could go a solid forty-five. “You must eat the sand, Jeremy. It will give you the power to breathe under water.” I didn’t want to eat the sand. I stared down at the squid with its big eye staring up at me, and the water lapping at its tentacles. “Jeremy, trust me, the sand tastes like sugar.” The squid promised. I knelt and shoveled the sand into my mouth, if there was anyone I could trust, it was a magic squid that sounded like my grandfather. It did taste like sugar, delicious, powdered sugar, and I shoveled more into my mouth. It felt like someone was tickling my brain, I didn’t know how bad I needed that feeling. I wanted that feeling forever, and I knew then that I might do anything to get it. “That’s enough Jeremy, you can have plenty of time in the water. And you need to save stomach room for the delicious brownies I’ve made.” I ran into the water and dove in as soon as I could, my new glowing friend led the way, and we swam deep under water. I saw my grandfather’s body, his mouth hanging open, fish nibbling at his corpse, his eyes said nothing. We stopped and looked at him for a while, I think the squid was paying his respects. That’s what I told myself, anyway. We swam out, further, and the sea level dropped, it was pitch dark, save for the glow that emanated from my friend. “What’s your name?” I asked the squid. “My name is Peter because I stand at the gate” the squid said, proudly. Soon enough we hit the bottom of the ocean, I walked on the sand, and Peter floated near my head. I kept walking forward, trusting that Peter knew exactly where we were going. Then I heard something in the distance, it sounded strange, it sounded like laughter. Peter hovered and looked at me with that enormous pupil of his, his head looked like it had little wings to keep him afloat. “Did you hear that?” I whispered. “I heard it, Jeremy, stay absolutely still, and do not make a noise” the voice sounded as if it were in my head as much as it was in the ocean. I heard the laughter again, but I stayed quiet. I tried to quiet the beating of my heart, but it wouldn’t slow, I could hear it as loud as I could hear the door earlier that night. I just wanted it to go away, I wanted to eat those brownies. I wanted my grandfather to be with me again, I wanted off the island. It was a flurry of emotions that I kept buried as deep as I could from fear, then something I couldn’t hide, pain. A sharp pain in my foot, I had irritated a stingray, and it pierced into my skin, its venom coursing through me. I screamed. I couldn’t help it. Then the laughter stopped, and I could hear a rushing noise. A small girl stood in front of us, with a little smile on her face. She was wearing a white dress, and yellow shorts. She was barefoot, and her skin looked soft. I noticed that her nails were long, too, like they hadn’t been cut in weeks, her hair was long, it must not had been cut in months, maybe years. Before I could ask any questions, her mouth opened and a serpent wriggled out of her mouth. It had a cobra’s head and a cerulean tint. It came at me; I could see yellow venom flowing from its fangs. I moved to the left, and the serpent flew past me, and snapped its mouth shut. I was terrified, again, and I was in terrible pain. “Grab it by the head, and bite it!” Peter yelled. The serpent came at me at me again, and I grabbed it in the middle, it whipped around to bite me, and I bit onto its neck as hard as I could, I dug my teeth in, it tasted like rubber and metal. Its head fell to the ground, and I started spitting. The girl was lying on the floor, the current picked up, and her body slid across the sand, I watched it until it was out of sight. These had better be the best damn brownies I’d had in my long nine years. ​ part 4: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16p0idp/my\_parents\_told\_me\_not\_to\_follow\_the\_light\_in\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16o4o4r/my_parents_told_me_not_to_follow_the_light_in_the/

nosleep

jazzgrackle

Concrete Heaven

I quite enjoy urban exploration as a hobby, which is just sort of a fancy way of saying I enjoy snooping about in places where I really ought not to be. I sometimes refer to it with my friends as recreational trespassing. Old buildings, steam tunnels, water infrastructure, it doesn't matter so long as it's man-made and not somewhere too frequented by cops or security guards. I was on one such excursion at a dried up old reservoir when I found the notepad. I was taking a few photographs when I heard a faint plop from behind me. I turned around to see it just sitting there on the sunbleached concrete; a small yellow legal notepad. I looked about to see where it could fallen from, but there wasn't anywhere above it where someone could have tossed it. It was as if it had simply fallen out of the sky. Obviously I went over and picked it up, what else was I supposed to do? It felt old, the pages stiff and crackly as though it had been left out in the sun for far too long. The first few pages were just the normal sort of things you'd find on a notepad like that; random numbers, grocery lists, various reminders, etc, but eventually those gave way to a solid block of dense, close-written text that continued for the remainder of the notepad. What follows is a transcription of what I found written there. \- - - I always loved the immensity of cities, the awe-inspiring magnitude of it all. It was just the people I didn't like. There is a calmness, a beauty to the vast concrete expanse of urban development, ruined utterly by the stupid, pointless creatures who inhabit it. This was one of the reasons why I started spending a lot of my spare time in the parts of the city where there are no people. In any given city, or even large town, there are vast swathes where nobody actually goes. All those places you pass by while driving which just look like empty expanses of cement and graffiti. Usually they're some sort of waterworks, concrete rivers where rainwater is meant to flow into in order to prevent floods and the like. Of course, the state I used to live in had been in a drought for most of my adult life, so it was rather rare there would ever actually be any flooding. Just long pathways of concrete and silence, a private sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of city life. Nobody ever tried to stop me, that's what's funny. People are always so afraid of wandering out where they aren't supposed to go, terrified of hopping fences because of the vaguely threatening signs insisting they'll be prosecuted for trespassing, but it's all meaningless. The barrier exists entirely within your mind. Nobody actually cares, and the police have much more pressing matters to attend to than keeping out trespassers on bits of infrastructure that haven't really been used in over a decade. Obviously I wasn't actually alone, I'm sure I wasn't the only explorer in these artificial wildernesses, and there was always the ever-present hum of city traffic at the edge of my hearing. There was enough graffiti to indicate at least some other people had visited these places, but I never encountered anyone. If I tuned out the sound of cars passing on the nearby freeway I could almost convince myself I was the last human being on the planet. Do you know what it felt like, walking through those vast empty spaces? It was as if I were an ant, crawling steadily along on my own on a crack in the sidewalk, surrounded on all sides but up by the weight of a world so much larger than I was. It was so liberating, so freeing to be so small, so alone, with nothing but the sun-warmed concrete and the gently cloudy skies above for company. I usually brought my polaroid camera with me, snapping photos here and there to look at later on the days when I couldn't go on an excursion in person. It was a day like any other when I crossed over to the place that I am now. I was walking along one of my favorite spots, the canal I called it, though I'm sure it had some more official name in the city planning parlance. It was just a long artificial river of sorts, designed for water to flow down, though none had ever passed through it for as long as I could recall. It went on for miles and miles, and I could walk uninterrupted for hours if I chose to. I can't place the exact moment that it happened, when the illusion of isolation transformed into reality. When you work so hard to tune out the sound of cars passing, you fail to notice when it actually does stop. I recall feeling faintly uneasy, as though something was wrong and I should turn back, but I can't for the life of me pinpoint exactly when that feeling started or what actually prompted it. It was in the late afternoon when I had decided I needed to head back home, during that period of time where the sun's rays cast long shadows and everything feels subtly unreal, as if you are wandering through a dream. I don't wear a watch, so I had no idea what the exact time was. I'd arrived at the canal at about 5 o'clock I believe, and must have been walking for at least 2 hours, so it couldn't have been earlier than 7, but at the same time it seemed too light out, too warm. I began my journey back, sneakers slapping gently against the warm concrete as I watched my lengthened shadow march ahead of me, stretched out like taffy by the afternoon sun. The clouds were a faint pink. Or, to say more correctly, they are a faint pink. They haven't changed one bit since that afternoon which now seems so long ago. I have no precise idea of how long I walked down the canal. The sun showed no signs of lowering, there was no breeze to move the clouds, and I had, as previously mentioned, no watch to measure the minutes. I could have been walking for 3 hours or 3 days, there is no way for me to know for sure. However, it eventually became apparent that I had been walking significantly longer to get back than it took for me to get there. I was just about to turn back around, thinking perhaps I had missed the spot I had entered and just didn't notice, when I spotted something up ahead that made me very, very concerned. The canal split, forming two distinct paths to the left and right. I want to make it very clear, the canal never split on any of my previous excursions, and I had traveled both directions multiple times for hours each way. It wasn't as if there were signs of drastic new construction, a branch off of the main route, it just split evenly down the middle, the graffiti covered concrete on both paths looking as though it had been there a long time, weathered by years under the hot sun. I paused for a moment. At least I think it was a moment. It's impossible to tell here. Time doesn't have much meaning when there is nothing to measure it. I tried to think of what logical explanation there could be for the sudden discrepancy in the structure of the canal. I couldn't come up with a single valid reason. I knew I wasn't losing my mind, I'm not sure how, but I was absolutely certain that I was still sane and lucid. Something had changed. I snapped a picture of the split, determined to compare it with the polaroids I had taken previously when I got back home. It's amusing to think back on it now, my belief that I would one day be able to return to the place I chose to think of as a home. By this point I was uncomfortably aware of the complete and total absence of the sound of traffic, and decided I needed to investigate. The walls of the canal weren't very steep, so I scrabbled up them and hauled myself over the edge to try and find some sort of landmark. I didn't see any sort of recognizable landmark when I stood up. I saw something so much stranger. At first I couldn't believe my own eyes. It seemed utterly impossible. I could see nothing but a vast, endless expanse of concrete, as far as my eyes could see. There were no buildings, no freeways or proper roads, it wasn't as though I was looking upon a city. The closest comparison I can make is this; imagine an outdoor skate park, the sort that is simply slopes, tunnels, and ramps of concrete. Now imagine it spanned a continent. Nothing seemed to serve any actual useful purpose, not really. It was just an abstract landscape of gray, marked occasionally with graffiti. At the time I believed this meant that there must be other people here, but I know better than that now. I didn't really know what else to do, so I just started walking. Ascending up the side of the canal had led me to a sort of pathway that was elevated above the rest of the concrete wilderness, and as I walked I was able to get quite a good look at my surroundings. The further I traveled, the more I noticed how strange the landscape was. As I said, nothing seemed to have any sort of real purpose, but certain structures did seem to emulate "real" ones. Occasionally I'd see bits of chain link fence randomly blocking off certain places, though there always seemed to be some way to get over or around it, like it was an obstacle to avoid rather than any sort of actual barrier. There were bridges of sorts, but it seemed less like they existed to span gaps and more as if they were meant to recreate the shade created by highway overpasses. I'd see stairs leading to nowhere in particular, and random tunnels shaped like sewer entrances but which seemed totally devoid of any wastewater. Even the graffiti seemed pointless, random. Later on I tried to analyze some of it, attempting to translate some sort of meaning from the scribbles painted haphazardly on the walls, but it was no use. Everything is either meaningless squiggles or just random sequences of letters. All the while as I walked, I snapped pictures with my camera, watching them print out and shaking them dry, checking to make sure that the landscape looked the same on film as they did in my eyes. Everything always turned out normal. If I wasn't already convinced of my utmost sanity, the photographs at the very least seemed to prove that I wasn't hallucinating. Eventually I expended what little food and water I had brought with me in my backpack, and still the sun showed no sign of lowering and the path showed no sign of ending, just continuing onward forever into the horizon. I decided I would descend down the next slope I saw that diverged from the path and walk a different route instead, just to try and see if the change in scenery would bring about any new revelations as to where I was, and how I could leave. I came across what seemed almost like a concrete slide of sorts, gently curving downwards with many twists and turns. I began my descent carefully, watching my footing. I wear fairly high quality sneakers, and the traction is generally good enough to help me on any precarious slopes, but this time I wasn't so lucky. I'd been walking for God knows how long, and I was far too tired to think carefully about putting one foot in front of the other. I stumbled, and soon found myself on my back, sliding down the slope. I was afraid there might be a fall of some sort at the bottom, that I might break a bone in this place and die of an infection, and tried desperately to slow my descent, scraping up my hands a bit in the process. I needn't have worried though, as eventually the slope leveled out and I found myself on flat ground. Beyond some mild scrapes on my hands and a slight tear on the back of my jeans, I was none the worse for wear. Surveying my surroundings, I found a series of rectangular concrete blocks, perhaps 8 feet tall, arranged in a grid. I rested against one, closing my eyes for a moment and trying to catch my breath. I was still no closer to finding an exit from this place. I opened my eyes after a minute or so and noticed something peeking out from behind the corner of one of the concrete blocks. I got up, groaning from fatigue and soreness, and moved over to see what it was. To my immense surprise, it was a soft, padded blanket. Next to the blanket was a transparent plastic water bottle, with no brand sticker visible, and a similarly unbranded granola bar. I was baffled. I picked up the water bottle, examining it. It was unopened and entirely full. I opened it and drank, finding the water within oddly colder than the ambient temperature around it, refreshingly cool. I downed the entire bottle and set to work on devouring the granola bar immediately afterwards. They say that hunger is the best sauce, and that might very well be true, because that simple meal tasted better than anything I'd ever eaten up until that point. I lay down on the blanket, pulling my hat over my eyes to block out the sun, and slept long and deep. I'm afraid I can't say exactly how long I slept, but when I finally did awake there was that faint soreness that accompanies especially long rests. I blinked the sand from my eyes and stood up, stretching my limbs out and blinking in the light of that perpetual late afternoon sun. The empty water bottle and the wrapper for the granola bar were gone, though there didn't seem to be any wind that could have moved them. I was scratching gently at an itch on my behind when I realized my jeans had been mended somehow. The rip that had been there when I had fallen asleep was gone now that I was awake. I took them off so I could get look at it, and the damage had been sewn up with gray thread. I knew I slept deeply, but not deeply enough for me to not have noticed somebody taking off my pants to repair them. There was an odd shiver that ran up my spine when I realized the scrapes on my hands were gone too, as if somehow they'd had time to completely heal over. I contemplated bringing the blanket with me, but decided against it, I didn't have the room in my backpack to carry it. I continued on my journey through the concrete landscape, wandering with no clear direction in mind, just hoping that if I walked far enough I would find a way out of this place. I walked for as long as I could stand to, taking whatever paths caught my eye. I walked on sidewalks without roads to accompany them, bridges, the occasional tunnel, vast stretches of flatness, stairs leading up and down, all manner of structures, and yet there didn't seem to be any end. As I walked, I'd occasionally come across more water and granola bars, and would consume both immediately. It took me a while to realize that the food and water only ever seemed to appear when I felt hungry or thirsty. I never went long enough without either to feel any effects of starvation or dehydration, I always went just long enough to feel the slight want to eat something or have a drink. At the time, that revelation made me feel deeply uncomfortable. I began to feel like I was being watched. The sun always stays in its late afternoon position in the perpetually partly cloudy sky, but my internal clock did once again inform me I was due for sleep. I looked about for a place to rest, some suitable area to curl up and at least take a short nap, when I once again found another padded blanket just lying there, peaking out from behind a nearby wall. It looked exactly the same as the one from before. It sent a shiver down my spine, but I didn't feel like I had much other choice, I was once again exhausted. My first sleep in this place was dreamless, just comfortable rest, but that second time brought about the first of my dreams about Her. Would you believe that at the time She frightened me? The folly of youth I suppose, or perhaps it simply takes time to appreciate the true beauty of divinity. The dreams are vague, disjointed in the manner that such visions so often are. It is sometimes difficult to distinguish the dreams from the waking world, since my actions are the same in both. I wander the beautiful landscape, warmed by the gentle sun. I am not alone in this place. She is with me. My concrete angel with wings of rebar and a face like graffiti, smiling down upon me with infinite kindness. The first time I dreamed of Her, I woke up screaming. Isn't that silly? In fact, for quite a long time after that I avoided sleep entirely, ignoring the blankets I found and choosing instead to keep on walking for as long as possible. Nobody can keep the sandman at bay forever, and when I did eventually pass out, slumped against a staircase to nowhere, I found myself dreaming once more of my concrete angel. When I awoke, still startled, I found I had been lovingly carried to a padded blanket at the base of the stairs. Since then, I have had periods of madness, of anger towards She who I perceived to be my captor. I screamed at Her to show Herself, I pleaded for my "freedom", I sobbed for hours, begging desperately to return home. But as time passed, I've come to realize this is my home. This is where I belong. In life, I spent every hour I could wandering places just like this, only infinitely smaller and more pathetic because they were built by the hands of men and not those of angels. I never fit in with my peers, and craved absolute solitude amidst the concrete wilderness of city infrastructure. Now I have what I always wanted. I don't need to worry about food, I don't have to think about deadlines, I can just wander forever, seeing sights so beautiful I cannot hope to describe them accurately. Here I am loved, I am cared for. My concrete angel speaks no words in my dreams, but I know She wants nothing but my happiness. I often wake up from my slumber with tears of joy. I don't know how long I've been here. My hands tremble slightly now, and seem somewhat wrinkled in appearance. My voice sounds hoarse, like that of someone nearing the end of a long, fulfilling life. But I don't feel old. The more I've roamed, the more I have seen that fills my heart with wonder and joy. I have seen cyclopean monuments that would put the pyramids of Giza to shame, I have crossed bridges that make Golden Gate look like a child's toy. I have looked over the depths of pits that seem to extend downwards into infinity. I am, as I write this, sitting next to one such pit now. I ran out of film for my camera long ago, and have decided that it is time for me to stop lugging it around. I don't need it anymore, nor do I need this notepad I am writing in. The clothes on my back are enough, and I know food and water will be provided whenever it is needed. I didn't want to just leave them in some corner in this place though. I cannot see the bottom of this pit, but it seems far, far deeper than any rational structure could be. Something tells me that at the bottom is a way back to the world I came from. Perhaps it is my concrete angel, whispering it to my mind. I'm going to throw down this notepad, along with my camera and all the photographs I have taken. Perhaps someone will find them, someday. There is a padded blanket next to me. After I throw this notepad into the depths of the pit, I think I shall take a nap before continuing on my endless, beautiful journey. \- - - I'll admit, this writing disturbed me greatly when I first read it, and I found myself listening desperately for the sound of traffic. For several seconds I was horrified that there would only be silence, before I eventually heard the deep rumble of a passing truck and allowed myself to relax a little bit. There is every possibility this is just some idiot's idea of a joke, perhaps the notepad was dropped by a drone or something like that, but I don't think so. It seems awfully involved to be some sort of prank. The end of the narrative mentioned photographs being dropped along with the notepad, and I did indeed find one, tucked in the last pages, but it hardly proves the tale's veracity. It's just a photograph of the late afternoon sky, a gentle sun turning the clouds faintly pink.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nsf0k/concrete_heaven/

nosleep

PriestessOfSpiders

The Baby Monitor Caught Something, It Put My Daughter Back To Sleep

Hi, I thought I’d share my story as I think I might not be the only one having these types of experiences. So I’m a single dad taking care of my infant daughter, she’s probably about three months old at the time of writing this. My wife died during childbirth and while I miss her everyday; taking care of my daughter helps me to move on. So being a single father I have to use every tool in my arsenal to take care of my daughter. I didn’t spare any expense as my job has afforded me that luxury. I’ve got baby monitors in her room, I read to her almost every night before bed and I’ve completely baby proofed the house even before she’s really explored it. Now I haven’t noticed much as far as paranormal activity is concerned, or maybe I’m just not that observant, but for the past few nights my baby monitor has picked up something abnormal. Now the monitor has a clean view of the room, almost 180 degrees. It’s got the closet, her changing table, my rocking chair and her crib as well as a window in shot. You’ve got that picture in your head right? Now I was looking back at the recordings that were made when it clocked movement and what I saw chilled me to the bone: It was a long slender human-like creature, its arms reached its calves or what I think was its calves. I used a rough estimate but I think it had to be at least 7 feet tall. It barely looked at the monitor but when it did I could see its mouth-less face with white pin sized glowing eyes, like that of a cat looking into a night vision camera. What looked like black mist was emitted from its body lightly but didn’t linger in the air. It walked out of the closet then hobbled over to my daughters crib, on the way it looked around. It wasn’t in a malicious way as if it was looking around to make sure it wasn’t caught; but as if it was curious about its surroundings. As it stood next to her crib it reached its hand out to touch my daughter's forehead. It stood there for a few minutes motionless, as if it was charging. It lingered there for an hour before finally removing its hand from her forehead, then it went back to the closet and seemingly left. Now this was a recording, it’s not like I could have gone to her room and stopped this… thing right there and now, but I grabbed the gun from my nightstand drawer and went to my daughters bedroom. I approached the closet and grabbed the door, I breathed in then out and whipped the door open. It rattled on its rails before revealing nothing but a normal closet. My daughter's clothes, her dresser, and boxes filled it. There was no room for anyone to be hiding in there, let alone living there. I stayed up all night, keeping an eye on the baby monitor. At about midnight the creature emerged from the closet. My eyes were glued to the monitor as he walked towards the crib, tonight though he stopped in front of the window and looked out. He put his hand on the glass and stood there for a few minutes before walking over to the crib, and once again he put his hand upon my daughter's forehead. I couldn’t move, I was scared. Who knew what he was doing to her. He stood there for an hour but was disrupted with her waking cries, he seemed to panic at first but recomposed himself and looked around until he met the lens of the camera with his white eyes. He approached, I was ready for the camera to be destroyed. But he didn’t do that, he bent down and grabbed a book then pulled the rocking chair closer to her crib. He sat down, opened it and put one hand onto her forehead as the other flipped the pages. “Was he reading to her?” I thought to myself, but he couldn’t be doing that. The monitor didn’t pick up any audio. Soon enough though her cries stopped and he got up and left through the closet. As soon as he left I ran to her room and silently looked her over, making sure she wasn’t harmed and thankfully she wasn’t. I ran to the closet and threw it open, almost ripping the doors off of its rails and once again it was only home to her clothes and toys. To be honest I think that whatever he is, he’s not malicious. Paranormal? Sure. But dangerous? I really doubt it. I’ll keep monitoring him but at the same time he put her back to sleep. I’ve left a note, hoping to communicate with him. “Thank you for putting her back to sleep, but what are you?” I had written upon it. I left a pen in her room and maybe, just maybe he’ll respond. Update: He responded through the note and despite the terrible handwriting I was able to read it. Here’s what he said: “Hello, my name as given is Mr. Dream Eater, I do not harm others, I simply like your dreams. Please do not be scared, I will leave if you want me to.” Honestly after reading this I am unsure of what to do, it seems like if I ask he’ll leave willingly but he also seems to be good with kids and I could really use the rest. Maybe I’ll let him stay for a little bit? Update 2: It seems like I found someone else with a similar experience on here: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mq5jn/i\_put\_a\_camera\_up\_and\_caught\_what\_was\_haunting\_me/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mq5jn/i_put_a_camera_up_and_caught_what_was_haunting_me/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nmn55/the_baby_monitor_caught_something_it_put_my/

nosleep

StrBcksKat

When she trapped us in that pit, she thought she was saving a life. Instead, she killed us all. [FINALE]

[My phone had died at this point](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15u63xc/when_she_trapped_us_in_that_pit_she_thought_she/). To preserve fuel, I allowed the flame to illuminate for only a moment at a time as I walked. The darkness was absolute and seemed to press on me from all sides in between each flicker as if it would smother me if I let it linger too long. It looked felt as if it was darker than anywhere I had ever been before. *It reminds me of when I was a kid, going to bed late at night and trying to see my hands in front of my face before my eyes adjust. I can’t see anything in this place.* Wait, that sounded familiar. *I was talking to Megan about that earlier today.* As far as I could tell, there was nothing around me. No walls, no objects, just dirt ground with the occasional rock. It was also deafly quiet with only the taps of my footsteps to fill the void. A very distant red light briefly lit in the distance and then vanished. With each hesitant step, the void seemed to stretch infinitely ahead. I began to wonder if the path had an end or if I was trapped in some endless loop of darkness. I thought of all of the floors above this one, and wondered if where I walked was untouched by time and space. I tried to shake off the thought, but it clung to me as tenaciously as the enveloping dark. As I continued onward, I perceived a slight change in the air, a tingling sensation on my skin. Then, in the distance, I saw it. Suddenly, the sky, or what I believed to be the sky, cracked open. A magnificent bolt of red lightning tore through dark clouds, momentarily banishing the darkness. The electric brilliance revealed a vast landscape, unlike any I had ever seen. Jagged peaks on a rocky terrain, vast chasms, and an eerie red glow permeating everything. No thunder followed. I just stood there for a while, hoping for another flash to give me another glimpse at where I was, but it never came. I could feel my courage begin wearing off as my heart started pounding against the rest of my chest. My breaths were getting shorter, my heart racing. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to get a hold of myself. But I couldn’t. "I need to turn back," I muttered to myself, eyes wide open now, trying to pierce the impenetrable darkness. "I need to find the elevator." I started retracing my steps, or at least I thought I was. Every direction felt identical, every step just as uncertain as the last. I was trying to just walk in nothing but a straight line but I knew it would be a miracle if I was slightly off I would pass right by the elevator. Desperation began to creep in. *How could I have wandered so far? What was I thinking?* My pace quickened as panic bubbled inside me. My breathing echoed loudly in the suffocating silence, and my fingers wrapped tighter around the bug spray can, which I was now almost continuously spraying. I found that my speed walking had accelerated into lightly jogging, my eyes darting around for something to latch onto. That's why I almost ran into it. The minotaur. It was just standing there, making no noise, staring at me. Its sudden appearance forced a scream from my lungs, sending me crashing to the ground, my lighter scattering away. Panic surged. I could hear it grunt as its hooves began walking towards me. I scrambled backwards, fumbling for the pepper spray, firing it and the bug spray both wildly in front of me. I must’ve been fortunate enough to hit the monster because it let out a piercing roar and I took that chance to quickly stand back up. I brushed my hands all over the floor in front of me and felt the lighter, picked it up, and began to run as fast as I could in the other direction. Springing up, I bolted, juggling my makeshift weapons as I ran. Another red flash painted the dark, revealing a massive boulder to my right. I had no idea if the beast could see in the dark or if my pepper spray had rendered it blind, but I wasn't about to find out. I dashed behind the boulder and prayed that it would shield me. At first, the monster was still wailing uncontrollably, as if I had just caused it incredible pain. But then the whispering began once again. It sounded different this time, more fast paced and in an angered hush. It was pissed, and it was coming for me. A massive string of blood lightning poured across the sky, so I seized the opportunity to quickly take a glance. For that split second, I thought I spotted it walking, searching for me. I again focused on my breathing and tried to keep it as silent as possible. I tried to draw back on the only meditation practice I knew; I began counting slowly backwards from 10. *10... 9... 8... 7...* Another red flash illuminated my surroundings. *6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...* I then stopped and listened. I could still hear the whispering, but it seemed farther now. I rubbed my eyes and whispered “God, or Zeus, whatever or whoever is listening, please get me out of this.” My eyes were somewhat adjusting at least... I could see just barely. I decided to stare into the dark so I could see where it was during the next strike of lightning, so I placed my hand onto the boulder and peeked around it. Suddenly, where I had placed my hand, a small rock fell off of the boulder and fell to the ground. You wouldn’t think that a single rock would make a loud sound. But with how silent it was, it traveled far, and I knew it. *\*Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud\** It was running towards me now. I sprinted through the darkness, bracing myself to run into another large boulder at any moment. Running through the pitch black was terrifying, but anything was better than getting caught and devoured. *\*Thud, thud, thud, THUD, THUD\** It was gaining on me. *It’s almost directly behind me now. This is it; this is how I die. No... worse. I’d take death over this in an instant.* Little did I know that my thought was about to be put to the test. A bright red flash illuminated the area, revealing an enormous gorge just in front of me. I halted and used my makeshift flamethrower to confirm that I was mere feet from having just run off what looked like an endless drop into the abyss. *\*THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD\** I contemplated whether to jump, but my body resisted. As much as my mind was screaming to just dive into the darkness the rest of my body was running on instinct and forbade me from acting on the decision. I continued to point the flame at the darkness where the running hooves were coming from. The minotaur, grotesque and towering, stepped into the firelight, its once brown fur now stained black by pepper spray. Its hollow eyes stared back at me, bloodshot and enraged. I then realized that the agonizing scream it had wailed earlier was not from me blinding it, but instead that the spray had seeped into the numerous open wounds across its body. I hardly had time to react to a sudden swing from the creature's steel weapon, only missing me by inches as I dodged to the left. Juggling the lighter, the bug spray and the pepper spray, I attempted to light the minotaur on fire but it was just out of reach. A second swing came at me and landed its mark as I shot pepper spray relentlessly at the creature. The hit knocked me onto the ground and pain intensely consumed me. I could feel the warmth of blood start to pour out of my side, but the adrenaline surging through my body kept me moving. I quickly stood up and saw the creature shaking and twitching in agony from the additional spray I covered it with. Another red flash. Seizing my opportunity, I unleashed a torrent of fire upon the beast. Screeching, it fell to the ground. During its fiery torment, its massive hairy hand stretched out, grabbing my ankle and yanking me off balance. My head slammed against the stone with a sickening thud, the world around me blurring into a hazy whirl of colors and sounds. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t think. My entire body felt numb, and I lost sense of the passage of time. I could feel something on my leg, pulling me, but I wasn’t able to react. It was a twin set of red lightning that bolted overhead that shook me back into reality. It gave me a glimpse at the minotaur just at my feet, its mouth open wider than anything I’ve ever seen, like a hippopotamus on steroids. Voices were screaming at me from inside of its mouth. ***“ANOTHER... PLEASE SAVE US... WE’RE CHAINED... FIRE... \*INAUDIBLE\* ... RUN BOY... CURSE THE GODS... INTO THE CHASM.”*** Realizing what was happening, panic surged anew, driving me into action. I ignored the fact that I was about to scorch myself and shot an array of flames into the beast's mouth. The voices inside of it all screamed in pain as the minotaur spasmed and let go of my leg. A small reflection of light shimmered from a few feet away in the firelight. *The spear*. Now on fire, the monster started to stand back up, so I moved for the weapon and swung it hard at the beast's head. It staggered but before it could recover, I hit it again, and again, and again. It fell to the ground, and I took the spear and shoved it straight into the skull of the minotaur. Desperate to kill the creature, I then I engulfed the creature in flames once more. Its convulsions slowed to twitching, then stopped altogether. Gasping for breath, I watched as the flames sputtered and died, the bug spray can empty. For a while I just stood there and stared at it, expecting it to move. To chase me. To catch me. But it didn’t. I studied the distant surroundings and noticed a small light. With my leg badly burned and my bloody side incapacitating the rest of my body, I found that I had no other option but to trudge toward it. As I got closer, I could see it was the elevator. The elevator that had taken me into the hallway of statues, into the swamp of vultures and crocodiles, into the room with the gigantic skeletons, into the room with the green candlelight, and into the wasteland of darkness. I stepped on, dazed and unsure whether I had really survived. But to say I had survived was naive... there was nowhere to go. I stepped on and sat down on the carpeted floor. I squinted at the overhead light. Recognizing for the first time that I was starving, I opened the backpack and started to make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I stared into the distance, watching the occasional red lightning give me a spectacle to mesmerize at. Like the swamp, it was a place of danger and death, but there was a certain beauty to it. A few bites into my sandwich and a bottle of water later, I glanced up at the buttons below the elevator map. One was lit up, just above the up button. I pounced up and inspected it. The button gave off a soft, green glow and depicted a trophy. It certainly hadn’t been there before. *What? Is this it? Am I getting out of here?* I immediately hit the trophy button; hope was filling me that it could be the way out. The elevator began to burr and then ascend. I smiled and began to cry. I found myself tapping my foot in anticipation to get out of the elevator as the floors ticked by. When it passed floor 5, it began to speed up and I held on, recognizing that the same thing had occurred when we had first boarded the elevator. *I’m going up, I’m getting out!* Eventually it slowed and came to a stop with its normal arrival sound. \**ding*\* The doors opened, and I immediately started to run through, looking for the exit. The floor was made up of finely cut white and blue marble tiles, and tall Doric columns made of white marble stood in intervals across the room. Paintings of Gods lined the walls, with three major paintings of which I assumed were depicting Zeus, Poseidon and Hades at the back of the room over a doorway. The room was beautiful, it really was. I just didn’t care. Eyes fixated on the next door ahead, I was so focused on escaping that I almost passed the immense chest in the center of the room. I hesitated for a moment. *Heck, why not?* I walked over to it and opened it. Piled high within, countless gold coins shimmered and twinkled. Even with all I had been through, and how focused I was on escaping, my mind couldn’t resist but switch to awe and excitement at the treasure before me. Resting atop the mound of wealth, a delicate glass case captured my attention. The transparency of the case contrasted starkly with the dense gold beneath. It appeared almost ethereal, the glass so clear that it seemed as though I could reach out and touch a vial sitting inside without any barrier. The vial itself was meticulously crafted, perhaps of crystal or some other precious material, and contained a mysterious liquid that shifted colors - from deep blue to emerald green as light passed through it. There was hardly any inside, and it seemed to be only a single drop of the substance. *Wait a minute. This must be it, from the letter Megan left us. It’s the cure for any illness.* I opened my backpack and stuffed it with the vial and as much gold as possible before realizing my backpack became too heavy. I took some gold out until I was barely able to lift the bag and limped toward the door. It swung open and what I saw was strangely the happiest moment of my life. It was the passage that had led us to the elevator doors. I was out. I had escaped. The moment I stepped out, the door behind me transformed and molded into stone elevator doors. I started running towards the exit as quickly as I could with a heavy bag and a burned leg, but immediately came across the gun we had pulled out of the backpack when we had first read Megans note. Rage pulsated through me as I remembered what she had done to us. I picked up the gun and stuffed it into the back of my pants. *I’m going to kill her when I see her. I don’t care if I’m arrested, she needs to pay for this.* As I continued walking on, closer and closer to the exit, I glanced at the photos lining the wall, some dusty and cracked, when one stood out to me. The frame around it looked brand new and when I looked at the photo, I found out why. The vibrant and evocative photograph captured the same angle as always of the cave showing a group of individuals navigating the uneven terrain. To the left was Tanner, in mid-stride, walking towards the cave with energy and enthusiasm, his face lit with excitement. Close behind him, Ryan's features were also lit in anticipation as he followed. On the right side, Alice is captured in a candid moment, shrugging slightly, her expression a mix of reluctance and curiosity. Following the others was myself, whose attention had shifted away from the group. My face, turning to the left, reflected a hint of confusion and curiosity. And then in the shadows near the cave's entrance, Megan stood apart from the group, her demeanor reserved and contemplative. Her gaze was directed momentarily at me. I grabbed the photo and shook it as I began to sob. I audibly pleaded with them to turn back. “No, please don’t go in. It’s a trap, you’re going to die if you go in!” I felt guilty, like somehow it was partially my fault, as if I could’ve known what we were going into. Memories of my friends flashed through my mind, causing the guilt to hurt more. *Maybe I should've seen the signs that something was wrong. I should've pushed more to keep going on the trail.* I contemplated whether I should take the photo, and after realizing this was the last photo of my friends, I decided to take it. Unfortunately, the frame was stuck to the wall and my attempts to break the glass were futile. Disappointed, I took one last long look at the photo before continuing down the pathway. When I reached the end, the doorway was open without a sign of Megan. I tried to remember the way out and succeeded, filled with joy as I saw the light outside of the cave as I walked out. As far as I figured, it was the next day from when we had first entered, but I couldn’t be sure how things worked down the elevator. I took in a deep breath of the fresh air, which felt better than anything I had felt in a long time. As I walked outside, I saw a campsite directly next to the cave entrance, and made eye contact with Megan, who was sitting on a camping chair. Her eyes were wide from shock and surprise that she was looking at me. “Micheal?! You made it!” She smiled and jumped out of her chair and started to run towards me. I began to reach for the gun in the back of my pants when a new thought came through my head, and I resisted the temptation to pull it out and shoot her right there. She slowed down when she realized none of the others were behind me. A concerned look came across her face. “Where are they? Where’s Tanner, Ryan and Alice?” It took everything I had to hold back from shouting at her that she had killed all three of them. I managed to break a small smile and dropped the backpack onto the ground. I unzipped it to reveal the pounds of gold coins and replied “They’re still in there, grabbing more of this. They should be out soon.” “Woah! Those have to be worth a fortune! And the elixir?” “Tanner has it. We’ll get it to your sister soon” I answered. It hurt me just to say his name to her. “That’s awesome!” she shouted. It bothered me to see her so excited, acting like she had done nothing wrong. Her expression then turned somber. “Listen Micheal, I’m really sorry I locked you guys in there. I’m glad you all made it out safely, and now we can save Emma.” I replied “It’s alright. We did meet the minotaur, but it wasn’t bad because we just shot it with that gun you gave us.” My acting skills were horrible, and I knew that, but from Megans expression it seemed she was so excited to see me that she was buying it. “In fact,” I continued, “let’s go help them out. We can grab another bag of coins and you can see the elixir for yourself.” Her face lit up as I said that, and she happily agreed. She never did make it out. Confused by my bodily injuries, the police questioned me for a few days but didn’t find any evidence of any wrongdoing, so I was never charged with any crimes. There was no evidence as the bag of gold is still buried in the woods by the cave, and I had tossed the gun through the doorway to Megan after forcing her inside the hallway. Only with a single bullet in the chamber though. Just to show I have more mercy than she did. I’m still thinking about what to do with the gold once I dig it up. One thing I’m certain of is that some of it will go towards the families of Tanner, Ryan and Alice. As for the elixir, I eventually did get it to Emma. The doctors were flabbergasted when the next MRI revealed she no longer had a tumor. In a strange way, saving her feels as though my friends didn’t die in vain. Besides, she didn’t know about Megans plan, so why would I let her suffer the consequences? While I do feel bad for her because she no longer has an older sister, not a day goes by that I don’t think about the horrible fate that my friends met in that pit. Maybe they’re dead, maybe they’re still down there. I’ve thought about telling the police what really happened but every time I’ve tried, they haven’t listened. In fact, a few of the officers even went into the cave but came out an hour later saying they didn’t find any Greek inscriptions or “magic doorways” and that I should just tell them what really happened to my friends. The only explanation they’ve been able to come up with is that we all came out here for a good time, took some magic mushrooms, and they all got lost falling off of a cliff while I hallucinated everything. No one will listen but I needed to tell someone, so I decided to tell my story here. So if you ever find a Greek inscription and it leads to some creepy elevator, do yourself a favor. [Don’t get on](https://www.reddit.com/user/UnderdonetoastHorror).

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nx977/when_she_trapped_us_in_that_pit_she_thought_she/

nosleep

UnderdonetoastHorror

I worked as an ice-road trucker in Russia along the “Road of Bones”. This is why I quit [part 4]

Part 1 [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16hw52t/i\_worked\_as\_an\_iceroad\_trucker\_in\_russia\_along/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16hw52t/i_worked_as_an_iceroad_trucker_in_russia_along/) Part 2 [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16k0p69/i\_worked\_as\_an\_iceroad\_trucker\_in\_russia\_along/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16k0p69/i_worked_as_an_iceroad_trucker_in_russia_along/) Part 3 [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l0n4k/i\_worked\_as\_an\_iceroad\_trucker\_in\_russia\_along/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l0n4k/i_worked_as_an_iceroad_trucker_in_russia_along/) ​ ​ The space around the hut looked totally dead. I didn’t see a single blade of grass or even a weed to mar the smooth, black earth. It looked so dark in the shadows of the forest that the legs and the hut seemed to hover over an abyss. The door, painted a blinding white, contrasted heavily with the rest of the stocked logs and twigs that composed the ancient-looking hut. A set of rickety wooden stairs led up to the door. I went first. There was no railing, and with each step I took, I was afraid I would fall right through the stairs. But they were stronger than they looked and nailed tightly to the beams underneath. Without hesitation, I flung the door open, and saw a nightmare laying beyond. A child’s body roasted on a spit over the raging fire in the fireplace, giving off a smell of cooking meat and woodsmoke that mixed with the rosemary, parsley and other herbs sprinkled over the body. I saw lampshades made of human skins, covering black candles that flickered and sputtered as the wind came in from outside. In the corner, a little girl crouched in a cage, a cage that was only big enough for a dog. She couldn’t stand up, and cried constantly. When she saw me, her eyes widened. “Please, help me!” she screamed. “She’ll be back any moment! Get me out of here!” She looked like the spitting image of Irina, and I wondered if they were identical twins. Yakov grabbed a knife from his pocket, going over to the cage and looking closely at the lock. He flicked it open, and began feverishly pulling at the ancient-looking padlock that held the cage closed. It didn’t seem nearly as secure as a modern deadbolt, and I wondered how many years the old witch had possessed it. I walked over to the window and looked outside- and my heart jumped into my throat. Outside, I saw Baba Yaga getting out of what looked like a flying pestle as it slowly lowered itself towards the ground. It stood about four-feet-tall, enough to hide Irina inside if it came to it. The wood looked beautiful, like smooth mahogany, perfectly fit together without cracks or gaps of any kind. It had strange runes burnt into the exterior. The writing was not Russian, or any Slavic language I knew. She had a mortar as tall as herself. She had her hands wrapped around the dark wood of the mortar, using the flaring, wide end on the bottom to push herself up and over the wall of the pestle. She had extremely thin legs, like those of a skeleton. They looked like two iron bars wrapped in skin. I looked closer through the window, squinting to try to make out every detail. I wondered if she used that mortar and pestle to grind up the bodies of children, to prepare their bodies for a meal. I saw dark stains on the bottom of the mortar, dark red and soaked deeply into the wood. I figured that answered my question. She put the mortar back inside, then turned and looked directly inside the hut. Her eyes met mine, one blind and staring, one filled with intelligence and fury. I ducked away, hoping she hadn’t seen me. “Hurry up, hurry up,” I said, turning to go help Irina and Yakov. “She’s coming! She’s got a flying barrel, too.” I saw they nearly had the lock broken by this point. It was fairly flimsy and ancient-looking, and Yakov had a folding knife which he used to pry it loose. Realizing there was nothing I could do to speed up the process, I ran back towards the window. Baba Yaga was gone. She wasn’t standing next to her mortar and pestle anymore. In fact, her mortar and pestle was gone too. A moment later, a deafening cacophony exploded across the hut as the roof collapsed inwards, covering us thin branches, thatch and straw. \*\*\* I found myself on the floor, unable to remember where I was for a moment. The cold steel of the gun was still gripped tightly in my hand. Then I heard crying and screaming, and it all came rushing back to me. I pushed some boards off of myself, feeling blood run down over my forehead. I felt weak. The fireplace on the other side of the room gave off some light. I saw the ceiling had collapsed, and as I looked up, I saw the full moon illuminating the cracked and ragged edges of the ruined roof. A gunshot rang out, very close by, and I heard a guttural cry of pain and surprise. I ran towards the sound, and after pushing a few beams from a section of collapsed wall to the side, I made a path towards Yakov and Baba Yaga. Yakov stood only a few feet away, and had just shot her in the neck at point blank range. Thick, black blood ran down her tattered rags of clothing, staining the coarse brown cloth and making it cling to her skin. She screamed in rage, opening her mouth wide and showing many sharp, yellow teeth, running forwards towards him and tackling him. I pushed some more rubble out of the way and ran forwards, the gun still clenched in my hand. Baba Yaga used her shark-like teeth to bite Yakov over and over in a space of mere seconds. He squealed like a pig being slaughtered, an inhuman wail that made me want to cover my ears and look away. Without thinking, I raised the gun and fired. The shot hit her in the shoulder and came out her chest. With a grunt, she fell sideways onto the ruined floor. I saw with horror that the wound in her neck was stitching itself closed before my eyes. Whatever dark magic had made this creature had clearly given her superhuman healing abilities. I wondered how we should kill her, if possible- whether multiple gunshots to the head would do it or not. I had a creeping suspicion it would not be so easy. I saw Yakov writhing on the floor, his face a mess of torn flesh and gore. His nose was missing and pieces of his cheeks, lips and foreheads had deep slices, leaving flaps of skin hanging over his face. I started to run to him but he shook his head vigorously. “Get the girls!” he said through a mouth full of blood, choking, his sounds coming out strange, maybe due to the bites that had split his lips and taken part of the top one. Instead, I began to walk over to Baba Yaga, planning to put the pistol to her head, point-blank, and pull the trigger. But the ruins of the thick hut door creaked open at that moment, and I turned, stunned at what I saw. Across the pile of torn beams and splintered boards, I saw the creatures I had told Yakov about, the ones I had seen next to the empty car stained with blood. They had hidden in the woods, saying, “Please help me,” over and over in a perfect, parrot-like fashion. And now they had come- the same pure black eyes, thin bodies and sheet-white skin. They looked like cancer patients, without a shred of fat on their bodies, totally hairless and alien, lacking sex organs or nipples, ears or noses. But they were much faster than their emaciated condition would suggest and they began to rush in, pushing some of the rubble aside and approaching where Yakov and I stood. I looked from Baba Yaga to the newcomers quickly, my mind racing. She looked up, a sensation of pain in her one good eye, the other flat and white, but her face lit up when she saw who had just arrived. “My servants, my sweet children,” she said in a deep, cooing voice, “you knew your mother was in trouble and came, didn’t you? You always know, always. That makes you so beautiful to me. You’ll always be mine.” I turned back to Baba Yaga, meaning to finish her off, but she sat up rapidly and grabbed my wrist, twisting. I cried out in pain and the gun went flying, settling under debris and rubble. I smelled smoke, and to my horror, realized the fireplace had ignited some of the ruined beams. Baba Yaga pushed me back, and I went flying into the wall, my wrist swelling and burning. In the corner, I saw Irina helping her sister out of the cage. The fire caught the old, brittle wood as if it were soaked in gasoline, and I saw with horror that soon, it would cut off the escape route for Irina and her sister. Groaning, I got up quickly. Yakov had reloaded and began shooting at the creatures that approached him. Baba Yaga stood up slowly, still dripping black blood on the floor, looking much weaker than before. I counted that as a blessing, though I didn’t think it would last. Whatever dark magic kept this monster alive was more powerful than a flesh wound, apparently. I had to choose between helping Irina or getting the gun, and I saw no choice. I dived into the rubble where I had last seen it, feeling splinters and nails poking into my skin. A few pierced my arms and legs through my clothes, and I felt sticky trickles of blood soaking them. I ignored the pain of my hand, the throbbing migraine I still had from the concussion and now this new insult to my body. The adrenaline helped, but I knew that, if I survived this, I would be sore and cut for weeks. The black-eyed creatures ran at me, and one grabbed my leg as I ducked and felt around furiously in the dark for the pistol. The fire kept spreading, giving me slightly more light through the crooked beams and collapsed roof, and I saw a glint of metal in the dim illumination. Just as the creatures pulled me out, I grabbed frantically, feeling the cold grip of the gun against my hand. Turning around quickly, I fired without aiming, shooting point-blank at the creatures standing there. One got hit in the chest, a splatter of the same black blood as Baba Yaga’s staining the wall behind it. I missed the other one, and it lunged, snapping with its twisted, yellow teeth, going straight for my throat or face. Without thinking, I fired again, and the shot went through its nose holes, disintegrating the front of its face and sending a dark spray of blood out behind it. It fell on me. I struggled, pushing the body off. All I could smell was smoke now, and I began to choke and sputter. I looked around wildly, but the smoke had grown thick, and I could barely see a few feet in front of me. I looked for Irina and her sister, moving towards where I had last seen them, but quickly gave up and started calling out. “Irina! Get her out of there, now! We have to go!” I said. I felt a small hand thrust into mine, and thinking it was Irina, I pulled, running towards the door. I ran straight into Yakov, who was choking on the smoke. I looked into his eyes and gasped. His face was a mask of blood. Only two dark eyes peered out from the destroyed flesh below. He kept spitting blood as he coughed. Without thinking, I pushed him towards the door, continuously pulling the little girl behind me. More creatures stood there, but we shot the ones on the stairs, and the others retreated away, galloping on all fours like some strange animal. They looked back with hatred, their eyes black and shining. They ran towards the gate, which was now open. I wondered if one of them had a key. Turning around, I saw the hut had turned into a blazing inferno. To my horror, I saw I did not hold Irina’s hand, but her twin sister’s. “Where’s Irina?” I asked, panicked, and then the screaming started from the hut. The floor began to collapse, chunks of molten wood falling between the dead, skeletal chicken legs that held up the hut. LIke something from a nightmare, I saw Baba Yaga stumbling out, her skin melting, her hair on fire, her one good eye still peering out from the mask of burning flesh. Her shrill, ear-splitting shriek echoed through the forest around us, and I heard another, quieter scream start coming from the hut. It sounded like a little girl. Without thinking, I began to push Yakov and Irina’s sister out of the gate, praying for Irina’s safety, but knowing that the only thing she could hope for was a quick death from suffocation. No one could survive that inferno. She was right when she said we shouldn’t have come here, but I had forced her, and now she was dying- or dead. We ran out into the woods, following the trail back to the truck. Yakov kept stumbling and falling. “I can’t go on much longer,” he said. “I think I’m dying. She really did a number on me. I feel light-headed… I think I might pass out soon.” “That’s just the blood loss,” I said, reassuring him but not believing it. “Once we get you to a hospital, you’ll be fine. You just need some stitches. It’s… not as bad as it looks.” He laughed, a sarcastic, bitter sound. “Don’t lie to the dying,” he muttered. And just as the truck came into sight, the black-eyed creatures came galloping silently out of the woods on all fours, a dozen of them, surrounding us. They didn’t blink or show any emotion, but as if a signal had been given, they swarmed us all at once. I began shooting, having refilled the chamber with bullets from my pocket, but there were too many. I cleared a path towards the truck, shooting five in the chest, aiming for center mass. Yakov began to fire, but many of his shots missed as blood streamed over his face and eyes, and soon, we were both out of bullets. I grabbed the little girl and ran towards the truck as Yakov held his place, roaring with blood-lust and excitement, pulling out a folding knife from his pocket. “Come on!” I screamed, but he just smiled. “Goodbye, friend,” he said as the creatures jumped on him, and he began stabbing and fighting in his last moments, cutting at their throats and faces as they ate him alive. \*\*\* I took Irina’s sister to a hospital and told the police about everything that had happened. They looked at me like I was a madman. The little girl corroborated my story, but they just dismissed it as the imagination of a child. Nonetheless, they went out to the site and found Yakov’s body. They ruled that he had been mauled by animals. There were, after all, many bears in the area. They also followed our footsteps into the woods, but said they found no hut, no fire, no clearing. They said the footsteps just stopped suddenly, as if we had been abducted by a UFO. The hut had gone, and so had Baba Yaga. After that day, I finished my route, sold my truck and made plans to move out of Russia forever. I had seen enough. But still, I wonder what else lies in those woods- what other secrets remain to be found.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nl7hj/i_worked_as_an_iceroad_trucker_in_russia_along/

nosleep

CIAHerpes

If you find an old N64 game called Desert War, DO NOT PLAY IT! (part 2)

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16imw6c/if_you_find_an_old_n64_game_called_desert_war_do/) “Holy shit!” José exclaimed. “I’ve seen that hat before.” “In a video game?” I asked. “You’ve played *Desert War*?” He shook his head. “Nope. But I remember now where I heard that name. I was in 9th grade, think it was around the time Jason disappeared. One day, as I was walking to school, I saw these flyers taped up all around the neighborhood. These were professional flyers, not something someone would create in MS Paint. They showed two soldiers fighting in a desert. And watching over them was a creepy-looking skeleton wearing that sorcerer’s hat.” I pulled out my iPhone and showed José the photo I took of the cartridge yesterday. “Was this design on the flyers?” “Yeah, it looks similar. The flyers were advertising some sweepstakes. Said that you had the chance to win an early copy of what would be the last officially licensed N64 game—*Desert War*. There was a URL to visit. I went to it, thinking it might be a scam. But it didn’t ask you to enter your social security number or anything like that, just your email, which I did. Never heard back from them. And now you’re saying you got a copy of the game?” “Well I did, but it’s vanished.” I told José about yesterday’s events. All of it except for my 'dream.' “That’s crazy,” he said. “I bet Jason was lured to the game maker’s house and killed there…Actually, wait. It’s a little too coincidental that his brother showed up with the game. I bet his brother is a serial killer. He probably got tired of waiting all these years without the cops finding any leads, so he’s dropping clues.” “I know this is the longest of long shots, but do you remember the URL on the flyer? Did they send you a confirmation email that you still have access to?” He shook his head. “Think I used AOL back then, my account’s long gone. But we better call the cops. This is crazy, man.” “I’ll call them in my office. Can you try to find the cartridge? Maybe it got misplaced somehow.” \*\*\* Before I called the police, I wanted to do some research. I booted up my computer and searched for articles about the disappearance of Jason Statler. He vanished on the night of Thursday, April 4th, 2002. His mom said that she had wished him good night at around 10 pm, but when she went to wake him up for school the next morning at 6, his bedroom was empty. There was no sign of a struggle or forced entry. The cops initially thought that he ran away, but his wallet was still in his room and all his shoes were in the front closet. A search party was organized. Bloodhounds were brought in, but they couldn’t pick up a scent. The woods were scoured and a dive team searched Lake Laurel and other nearby bodies of water, but no trace of him was ever found. Until today. I tried to find the name of Jason’s brother. José’s theory that he was the killer seemed a little farfetched, but I didn’t have any other suspects. As it turned out, he was only nine at the time of his brother’s disappearance. I found a current photo of him—it was definitely the same guy who came into my shop yesterday—but I doubted that an evil nine-year-old mastermind had made the game. I went back out and asked José if he had found the cartridge. As I suspected, he hadn’t. I returned to my office and pulled up the security footage from yesterday on my computer. There was no camera in my office itself, but there was one right outside it. The footage showed me entering my office yesterday afternoon, the emerald-green cartridge in hand. An hour later, I walked out without the cartridge and locked the door. The camera didn’t start recording again until 2 am. Just for a second or so, nothing visible but a white blur on the screen. I tried to zoom in on one of the frames. The camera wasn’t the best quality, and the footage was rather grainy, but I thought I could just make out a translucent, skeleton-like figure heading towards my office. The camera stopped recording for a few minutes, and then there was another white blur on the screen. I zoomed in again. This time, the skeleton was holding a cartridge. That was the last bit of footage until today. I had tried to convince myself that it was just a bad dream, just a series of strange coincidences, but I knew now that the skeleton was real. *And what was I to do about it?* I sure as hell couldn’t call the cops. This wasn’t like the movies, they didn’t have some elite paranormal investigation unit. Not to mention that they were hopeless when dealing with mundane crimes—when there was a break-in at my shop a few months ago, they didn’t do a damn thing, even though there was footage that showed the suspect’s license plate. A burglar alarm went off, but it took them two hours to get there. Yeah, they’d be completely useless when dealing with a skeleton. I’d most likely be useless, too. But I had to try. I may have knocked off the skeleton’s hat, but that was only the first level. I decided my best course of action would be to try to track down the origins of the emerald-green cartridge. They weren’t mass-produced, no game had ever been published on them. I doubted more than a hundred or so were ever made as samples. I emailed all of my contacts at Nintendo, asking if any of them had information on what publishers had requested the distinctive green cartridges. I then tried searching the web again, seeing if there was any information on Desert War that I had missed. As was the case yesterday, I found nothing. Just in case something came up, I set up a Google Alert. Next, I looked for more information about the death of Jason Statler. Since his body was found, several threads were started on various forums. I quickly read them. Unsurprisingly, the web 'sleuths' knew nothing, but I bookmarked the threads just in case something useful would pop up. Finally, I made a Reddit thread, asking if anyone had a photo of the flyers that had been tacked up 20 years ago. Another long shot, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I considered contacting Jason’s brother, but from my interaction with him yesterday, he didn’t seem to know anything about the game. \*\*\* Around 4 that afternoon, I received a reply from one of my friends at Nintendo. Apparently, only three publishers had requested sample emerald-green cartridges. I had emailed contacts at two of them yesterday. The third was a small, now-defunct studio called Gooseberry Games. Their headquarters had been located about 20 minutes away in Redwood City. I didn’t know anyone who had worked there, but I was vaguely familiar with them, having reviewed their only N64 game, *Raucous Raccoon Racing*, for the magazine *Game Informer* in 1999. It was truly an awful game—I had rated it a 1.25/10. Unsurprisingly, it completely bombed. I went on LinkedIn and messaged everyone who had ever worked there, praying that they would not remember that I was the guy who had slammed their game. In addition, I Googled their names, hoping to find something interesting in their backgrounds. Nothing suspicious came up. \*\*\* The cops gave a televised press conference at 7 that evening. They managed to talk for 30 minutes, but they had no new information about the murder of Jason Statler. My investigation wasn’t going any better; none of the people I had contacted from Gooseberry Games had gotten back to me and I had no other leads. \*\*\* I wasn’t planning on going to sleep that night. I didn’t think the skeleton would return in my dreams—I thought that with the cartridge gone he would target someone else—but I didn’t want to risk it. I drank loads of caffeine. Normally that would be enough to keep me up all night, but the Sandman still found me and I was out by nine. I was sitting in a small green rocket ship. A few feet to my left, in another rocket, was the skeleton from before, sans hat. He looked real—but the rest of the game—the rockets, the ringed planet in the background, the meteors flying through space—were not impressive. No texture had been mapped onto any of the objects—the meteors looked like solid brown spheres. I pinched myself, trying to force myself to wake from this dream that was not a dream, but, as I suspected, it was no use. It seemed like the only way to get out would be to win the race. A giant green 3 appeared in front of us. Then a 2, then a 1, and we were off. It was honestly the worst racing game ever. There were no power-ups and the only obstacles were the meteors, which moved so slowly that you would have had to try to hit them. Even though we were in space, you could only move left or right and had to stay on a narrow course that was bounded by invisible walls. Somehow, I managed to get way out in front of the skeleton. There was no minimap, so I didn’t know how far I had to go, but after what seemed like hours, I could finally see the finish line. A tiny monkey in a space suit was waving a checkered flag. I looked behind me—the skeleton was nowhere in sight. When I was nearly at the finish line, the skeleton’s rocket materialized out of thin air in front of me. As he crossed the finish line first, my rocket exploded into thousands of tiny pieces. Like last night, I was transported to the skeleton’s lair. But this time, I was unable to move. The skeleton walked slowly towards me, picked me up, and opened his monstrous maw. I could smell the decay and the rot emanating from it, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not move, could not scream. I was going to die, but it would not be a video game death. I would not respawn, would not have the option to insert another quarter to keep playing. His teeth chomped down on my neck and I felt the most horrific pain of my life before everything faded to black. Then I saw the skeleton’s face. There were three hearts in front of it. As the skeleton laughed, one slowly faded away. \*\*\* I awoke on my kitchen floor, the clock showing 9:14. I had been out for over 12 hours. *It was just a dream*, I tried to tell myself. On the floor, a few feet away from me, I saw something glimmering in the morning light. I walked over and picked it up. It was a piece of green metal, the same exact color that my rocket ship was. On it, an image of a skeleton was engraved, along with the initials F. S. I knew all along, but I could no longer deny it. There in front of me was incontrovertible proof it was not a dream. I would have two more chances to beat the skeleton in the race. There must be some shortcut on the course or some power-up I needed to find. Or maybe I needed to try to ram the skeleton’s rocket, perhaps that was the only way to defeat him. Whatever the secret was, I needed to find it or I’d be dead. That is, unless I could somehow defeat him in this world, the real world, instead of in the world he created. I checked my email, hoping that someone from Gooseberry Games would have responded. No one did, but there was a Google Alert in my inbox. A GameStop in a mall near Fremont, about 40 minutes away, had listed a copy of Desert War on their website. [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16pn7qo/if_you_find_an_old_n64_game_called_desert_war_do/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n9yud/if_you_find_an_old_n64_game_called_desert_war_do/

nosleep

VisualSun9225

Lately I’ve been hearing noises in my attic. Help me.

Lately I’ve been hearing strange noises coming from up in my attic. Don’t think I’ve immediately jumped to conclusions, I’m writing this in my journal hoping it is found if I don’t make it out of here alive after weeks of assuming it’s just simply raccoons or bats flying amuck my dirty, cobweb ridden attic. Hell, I haven’t been up there in years, and I’ve been too scared of whatever the hell it is up there to check. It started with just little padders, the noises it would make would line up with a small animal running about. Honestly, the first time I heard it I didn’t think much of it at all. I live in a pretty old house and if you’ve ever lived in one, you know about all the creaks and whatnot that the ancient homes can produce. It really wasn’t all that shocking to me. I’ve lived alone since my husband peacefully passed in his sleep 5 years ago, and as I’ve gotten older I have to admit I’ve let both myself and the house, my once prized possession, go. With my husband’s passing my daughter, who has never quite been all there, worsened even herself and I haven’t heard from her in years. His passing took a huge toll on the family, he was the true thick glue to hold everyone together whether it be from planning Thanksgiving gatherings, reunions, or just a simple stop by family members houses. I can’t say I haven’t been concerned its my husbands ghost returning to try giving me a wake up call. He always was the big cleaner, lecturing me every now and again to help him tidy up. I’ve never been messy, don’t get me wrong, he just had a strong touch of OCD, specifically about cleaning. If he were to spot a single dirt speck on the kitchen table you could only pray to God he’d still eat that day. Sadly, I feel now it’s something more malicious than just my husbands ghost telling me to get off my ass and clean. Over the span of the last few weeks the padders turned into thumps, which turned into bangs, and eventually I called the police. I just wanted to check, you know? I’ve heard the horror stories of homeless people living in homes amongst the unknowing owners. Me being an old woman I figured I’m one of the top targets to these crimes. Honestly, I’m unsure if I could even walk up the stairs to my attic without breaking a hip these days. But, to my demise, when the police officers arrived they didn’t seem to really take me seriously. They made me feel as if I was just an old bat starting to hear things, and I believed them. They checked my attic, came down and shrugged. “Nothing up there. No trace of any animals nor scary homeless people waiting to drink your blood.” The officers laughed with each-other, teasing the old lady who’s gone a little cuckoo. That was three days ago. I’ve tried my best to ignore any noises since then, I’ve even figured myself I’m just getting too old to be living alone. No one visits me anymore, especially after Harold, my husbands, passing. But, now, as I write this with my shaky hands, I’m here to tell you I am going to my attic. I need to prove to myself that it isn’t real, that it’s all in my head. The noises are simply too much to bear anymore without proof there’s nothing up there. And a few minutes ago, I swore I heard the sounds of a woman whimpering with the most melancholic noises I’ve ever heard in my seventy four years of living. Fuck. It was fucking her, god how could the police have missed her? My daughter, the one I had raised her entire life, HAROLD raised his entire life, I found in a metal stand up cabinet sitting, smushed into the sides of the interior. I screamed when I first saw her, horrified at what I had found, what I had saw. Seeing my daughter gnawing on Harold’s bones, her teeth surrounding her as she continued to chew with a full bloody mouth, blood dripping out as she tried to eat bone like a rabid animal. There were dead squirrels, raccoons, hell even a cat I found half eaten sitting in her lap, dark blood splattered all over the inside of the cabinet, even on the ceiling of it. I’m so sorry mommy…” she kept mumbling over and over again as I had just kept screaming in true damn horror. I passed out eventually. She looked me in my eyes after saying she was sorry over and over again for what seemed like hours. I’ve never been more terrified than when I looked into her eyes, they were empty, cold even. It was similar to the look of a rabid animal, or a hungry Gorilla. Have you ever seen a look of such just pure hunger? But not in the, “Oh, I could go for a burger.” way. Bloodthirsty. I was preparing myself to be attacked, to use any of my energy to fight her back, but the last thing I remember is feeling something similar to possibly a hard rock hit my head. I know now it was none other than my beloved Harold’s bone, my guess being his femur. When I woke up I was greeted by laying in my own pool of blood, touching my head to feel a large open wound. Truthfully, the reason I’m writing this is because I don’t want to seek medical attention. I think I’ll be lucky to die. I feel as if my daughter gave me a warning message, looking into my eyes with such negative emotions, a negative soul. So, i’m warning you now. If you hear those noises in your attic, leave and try far the hell away. Don’t worry about your bags, it’s better to lose everything than to have this outcome. Because when I woke up, and finally was able to see and recognize my surroundings, the words “I’m going to get you.” and “It’s your fault” were written all across my attic wall in a mixture of likely animal shit, animal blood, and maybe even some of my own. The worst part? I can hear loud thumping and movement coming from below me, and all I can do is pray for you to find this and for me to die quickly, before she comes back up for me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ntg8b/lately_ive_been_hearing_noises_in_my_attic_help_me/

nosleep

daisy_cow

Hitters Gitters

Simple innocent words....twisted and corrupted. "Hitters gitters!" Jamie shouted. "You gotta be kidding me!?" Gary replied sharply. "Rules are rules,"  Shrugged Jamie with a grin. "Hey, I don't mind playing by the rules when it's a bad pass, but you practically let the ball roll right past you!" We had been aimlessly wandering the neighbourhood, passing a ball back and forth to each other as we went.  It was a meagre source of entertainment to keep us occupied while we hoped to stumble upon something more interesting.  But as usual, this town was as boring as it was small, and unwilling to deliver. "You know what” said Gary extending his hands outwards. "Fine...I'll get the damn ball, but I'll remember this next time you mess up, asshole." He put on a light jog down the street, passing by Jamie, and towards the ball.  Jamie swivelled to watch him pass with the same grin still plastered on his face. "You lazy, bastard."  Ryan said, shaking his head. "You were way closer!  You should have just went an got the stupid ball." "That's not the point," said Jamie. "He hit it. He gets it. Simple." "Was still lazy, and you definitely could have stopped it rolling all the way back down the street if you, I dunno, actually tried moving."  "Whatever, man" Jamie said rolling his eyes. The four of us had been friends since as far as I can remember.  Sure, we did some shit talking now and then, and we didn't always see eye to eye on everything, but we were close, and we had each others backs. Gary being the most into sports would never leave home without a ball.  He was always on the move.  Never able to stay still for even a few seconds without fidgeting.  Even on the rare occasions when we got him to play video games, he would turn and lean in directions as if his body was the control stick. Ryan was a bit of a goofball.  Never took anything too seriously, and generally just called things as he saw it.  He was one of those guys with waste disposal genetics.  Ate what he wanted, when he wanted and converted it into pure energy. I’m talking cakes, pizza, whatever, and he still just kept in shape.  If you ask me, that should be considered a super power.  Me and Jamie were more into video games and cartoon shows.  That’s not to say we were physically inept stereotypes.  We still played outside, got muddy, and had our fair share of scraped knees and bruises over the years.  We just liked some indoor time as well, especially if one of us got a new game to play. Originally me and Jamie didn't really get on.  Our opinions clashed with nearly everything. From what game series was better, to what character could beat who. After a while we just learned to put our opposing opinions to the side, and focused on the stuff we could agree on.  Well most of the time anyway. "Hey guys,"  I said, looking up to the cloudy sky.  "it's starting to get dark…streetlights gonna be coming on soon." The streetlights were our signal to get our butts moving, and head home.  We were at that awkward in-between age where we were too old to be playing in kid parks, but too young to do much of anything else, and curfew was most definitely still in effect. "Yep.  Looks like it."  Ryan said looking up to the darkening sky. "Getting damn cold too,"  Jamie said putting his hands in his pockets. "Well maybe you'd keep warmer if you actually chased the ball now an then."  we heard Gary saying as he walked towards us with the newly retrieved ball. "Heh! Sure, I'll keep that in mind.....maybe."  Jamie laughed. We headed towards the main road at the top of town for the rest of the walk home. That worked out well for me, as I stayed on the main street.  My house was just along the road about 10 minutes from where we were, maybe 20 minutes if we wanted to drag it out a bit.  The road itself is a long straight cutting from right, to left, separating town, from the woods to the north.  It was perfect for us to kick the ball about at this time of night, given it’s a nice stretch of even ground, and it's a rare sight to see any cars passing through here at this hour.  Only the lost wind up here at night. Taking it slow, and trying to squeeze the most out of our remaining time before curfew, when suddenly an electrical humming emits overhead. "Seriously? Already?"  Gary says looking up to the streetlights as they started to flicker to life. "Yup, that's winter for you,"  I said, feeling a shiver run through me. "shortens your daylight, and freezes your nuts off." "Woah, so they finally dropped? Congrats, champ! I’m proud of ya!"  Ryan said, patting me on the back. "Hurr Hurr! Funny guy!"  I said, shoving him away. I could hear Jamie, and Gary laughing behind us. Hell, even I couldn't help but let out a little laugh in the form of a suppressed nose exhale. Ryan was never the smartest guy, but his wit was sharp as a tack when the opportunity arose.I walked on a few steps to make some distance while planning to get Gary to pass me the ball. It was then that I heard it. A slight almost unnoticeable whisper.  Like someone trying to whisper a secret?  No.  Trying to get my attention. My logical side passed it off as the wind whistling by, and I continued onwards, but with each step I took, I felt increasingly more uneasy. There was something very wrong here.With a growing intensity, the lone whisper changed to whispers.  Multiple voices, all in varying speeds and pitches, desperately trying to snare me.  To get me to notice them. My mind was screaming.  RUN. Then I saw it. Something out of the corner of my eye.  I could see it, but I didn't dare look towards it.  I couldn't. In the trees on the other side of the road. Something was there.  I could feel its horrible, unwanted presence just at the edge of the woods. Cold dread washed over me, as this unbearable feeling of being watched had me rooted to the ground. I wanted to will myself to look over towards the woods, in hope to prove to myself it was just my imagination, but I failed to turn my head.  I was too afraid to see, what i prayed wasn't there. Then it started to move. "WAKEY WAKEY!!" I snapped out of my trance, immediately turning to look towards the trees!  Seeing just the slightest glimpse of it before the branches closed over. "You okay?"  I heard Jamie ask.  "You’re kinda freaking us out!" Suddenly aware that I had all three of my friends eyes locked on me with confused worried faces. "You alright?  Ryan asked, genuinely looking concerned.  "I was only joking about your balls dropping." he said with almost comical sincerity. "What!? No! It wasn't that, it was..."  taking a second to think, as my eyes darted between the three of them. They hadn't heard it.  They never felt that awful presence.  Were they not close enough to the trees?  Or was it just a moment of madness? I exhaled a deep breath I didn't realise I was holding.  "It was....it was nothing.... I just zoned out is all."  I said trying to shrug it off, and pull myself together, failing miserably. I could tell they weren't buying it, but I didn't care.  I just needed us to start moving, and get out of here. "Hey, come on! Pass me the ball!"  I shouted to Gary, as I side stepped away from the woods, and put on a small jog towards home, further away from here. "You sure, man?  I thought you were about to take a seizure on us." "Just pass it." "Okay....you’re the boss." Gary kicked the ball over to me.  I stopped it with my foot, trying to look as casual as possible, but still unable to get that image out of my head. That thing out of my head. I stalled for a few seconds, letting my friends close some of the distance between us, in an attempt to get them closer to home. I eventually, and reluctantly kicked the ball over to Ryan who was the closest to me, but he immediately turns and passes it all the way down to Jamie. I stood my ground, refusing to go another step back.  Not that I felt much safer here.  These damn woods stretch the whole way up the road spanning the width of town, and further.  But at least every step this way was another step closer to my house. Ryan approached me after he had kicked the ball to Jamie.  "What's up, Mike? You looked pretty out of it there." "Nothing, I just thought I heard something, and...."  I trailed off, breaking eye contact. "And what?"  he asked quizzically. I look back to Ryan, staring him dead in the eye for a long second before uttering the truth. "I saw....a face." His expression instantly changing from one of concern, to perplexed.  Raising an eyebrow he asked. "A face?  What do you mean a face??" "Like, a fucking face!"  I snapped. "Where the hell did you see it?" "Over in the tree's!  For like, a second!  Just staring at us!  It looked dead!  Pale white skin, black slits for eyes, and a damn black empty mouth hanging open looking like it was....like it was smiling!  It was a fucking nightmare!"  I whisper yelled at him. "Okay, okay, calm down, Man."  He said putting his open palms up like he was trying to reason with a rabid chihuahua. "Is there any chance you were maybe just seeing things? You know, like a plastic bag stuck in the bushes or something?" I inhaled sharp, and deep.  Preparing to volley Ryan with every curse word in my vocabulary. "Buuuut" he quickly interrupted me, raising his hands up even higher, and stretching his fingers out. "...to be safe though, let's grab Laurel, and Hardy back there, and we'll all start a fast walk home, and we can talk about this tomor...." But before he could finish his sentence, a loud "HA!" cut through the air. "HITTERS GITTERS!"  We heard Gary shout. We both turned to see Jamie down the road shaking his head and muttering to himself. My heart sunk as I realised what had happened....as he started towards the edge of the woods.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nsvep/hitters_gitters/

nosleep

Omni-Occults

I Think Someone is Trying to Talk to Me Through My Nightmares; pt. 2

[Part 1.](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lh9jg/i_think_someone_is_trying_to_talk_to_me_through/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Things got worse after that. Kindergarten was a pain. I quickly learned that I was a sensitive child; prone to panic and hysteria. Mom said I was just a gentle spirit and that crowds "weren't my thing." Dad told me I needed to toughen up. His solution was to make me responsible for Sammy's training. According to my dad, Sammy was only allowed on furniture by invitation, was always to be present when I answered the door, and had specific command phrases he had to know. They were the typical things: "sit, down, stay, come, heel, off," and "no." It wasn't easy. I was barely five years old and I was training a seven-month old Rottweiler that was already big enough to ride. It came in handy though whenever I'd wake up in the middle of the night to find Sammy perched over me, looking out the window. "Down!" I'd hiss, trying not to be loud enough to wake my sisters. His head would glance in my direction for half a second before snapping back to look outside. This would happen for several nights. I wasn't having any nightmares, but that's because I was too stressed to sleep. I'm not sure I even remember this properly, but apparently that's the story I told my Mom. "You were so scared about starting school," she told me years later when I brought it up. "That's why we put that lock on your window. Sammy could probably sense your unease too. He was such a good dog." Sammy wasn't just a good dog; he was an amazing protector. Over the next few months, he became my best buddy. He and I would wrestle and play and go on walks. The Kitters would send the cops over because of our "aggressive dog" but, honestly, Old Man Wilkin's cat was more aggressive that Sammy. Sammy growled a lot, but Rottis do that as a sign of affection *and* aggression, so who's to say? By winter break, Sammy obeyed all seven of the core commands and knew several tricks. Our favorite trick was "bang!" This was before the internet so I learned about it when one of the cops the Kitters called on us told me that Sammy could "play dead" as if I shot him and being a kid, that sounded cool. I'd get home from school, burst through the front door with finger guns blazing and yell "Bang!" Sammy would leap like a rabbit out of my room and flop onto his side dramatically, smile wide, eyes fixed on me and waiting for me to say "good boy!" My sleep had improved significantly by this point. No more nightmares, no more unease. Even Sammy slept soundly. That Christmas, my Dad's parents reached out. They had been wracked with guilt for years and finally worked up the courage to beg for forgiveness. They wanted to know their grandchildren. My parents reluctantly agreed that they could visit on Christmas Eve. That day, I met my Dad's parents. I don't remember anything about that day, honestly, other than treating them like the strangers they were. I wouldn't hug them or engage in conversation. I would just show them Sammy's tricks. Sammy seemed to like them immediately, which did ease me a bit. After dinner, they said a teary goodbye and wished us a merry Christmas. That night, Sammy was on high alert. My Dad later said it's because the grandparents spooked him, but I don't think that was it. I was in bed, having one of my out-of-body dreams again. I was observing myself, but I didn't feel like I was a second me. I was just... seeing my room, like a camera on a tripod facing my bed. Sammy suddenly perked up and faced the window again. I was fed up. I was a frustrated 5-year-old. I looked down at my body and *demanded* that I wake up. Then I heard a loud tap. My gaze lurched back to the window and I saw someone at the edge of the shadows again. This time, though, they didn't run. Sammy growled at them. His fur prickling and standing on edge. His face twisted into a snarl. I felt sick to my stomach. The figure took a step forward. "GET MOM!" my own voice shouted from the bed. My body was sitting up, head slack, eyes wide open but rolled back into my skull. My hand hung loosely in the air, pointing towards the bedroom door. "GET MOM! GET MOM! GET MOM!" I tried to run out of the room, but every step was like moving through quickly-drying cement. I panicked. I couldn't breathe. The girls were screaming. Sammy started barking. My body yelled "GET MOM! GET MOM!" I glanced at the window and saw the finger plunge into the shadows and out of sight. Sammy tore from my bed, sprinting in a mad dash out of the room, and knocking my body over. I felt the impact, felt him slam into me, felt my head hit the pillow and I felt dizzy. My eyes opened and I was back in my body, my arm still outstretched towards the open bedroom door. My sisters were crying and I started panicking. My Dad was already by the front door when my Mom rushed in. She asked what was happening and the girls said I just started screaming. *I* scared them. I told my Mom my dream and she told me that I didn't need to worry. She took all of us to her room and we slept in her bed that night. On Christmas morning, we opened a couple small presents and ate our breakfasts with glee. The nightmare of last night melted away when we drank hot coco and scarfed down homemade waffles. I remember getting Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figure. Donatello. Classic. I went to put him on my windowsill where some other knick knacks and toys waited for me, but as I stood him up, my gaze slid down along the windowsill to the latch. A long, thin crack had formed along the glass near the latch and lock was missing. ​

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16norow/i_think_someone_is_trying_to_talk_to_me_through/

nosleep

Basic-Contract8592

I make lists of rules for a living. I’ve had strange jobs and have stories to tell.

*The following is a transcription of an interview that occurred on July 22, 2023. The two parties involved in the conversation are Mica Phillips, a freelance blogger working on an article for the website **Strangerdangers** and the subject of the interview, an individual identified as Nelson Platt. The website catered to bizarre and macabre stories, and apparently when Mica agreed to meet Mr. Platt in a back booth at the Sleeping Robin diner, there was already some idea that he might have such stories to tell.* **** *Mica: Hey! You must be Nelson.* **Nelson: (short laugh) Well, if you say I am, then I must be.** *Mica: (laughing in return) I hope you haven’t been waiting…* **Nelson: If you don’t mind, sit over here at the end of the table instead of across in that other booth.** *Mica: Um, okay…* **Nelson: Sorry, I know that might seem strange, but I don’t like people directly across from me when I’m in a booth like this, and I also don’t want anyone overhearing what we’re talking about.** *Mica: Sure, yeah I get that. (The sound of a metal chair being pulled up to the table) So, um, how do you want to start? You were saying on the forums that you had a very strange job with a list of rules?* **Nelson: What? No. No, no. I said my job is making lists of rules. And some of my work orders have been pretty weird. So I…you know, have stories. To tell.** *Mica: Huh. Okay, well, tell me about the job first, I guess. What kinds of rules or um, lists of rules do you make?* **Nelson: Oh, all kinds really.** *Mica: Yeah…but I mean, are these like rules for businesses or schools or what?* **Nelson: Usually nothing quite that banal. For instance, last week I created a set of rules for how to survive a night in a house haunted by an evil dead child.** *Mica: (laughter) What? You’re shitting me. Um, I mean, you’re kidding.* **Nelson: No, no. I’m not shitting you or kidding.** *Mica: So you wrote some tips for someone to survive a night in a house that’s haunted by an evil dead kid? For what, like the internet or something? And isn’t that a bit spec…* **Nelson: Not tips. Rules.** *Mica: Oh, sh-oh shoot. Yeah, my bad. I wasn’t trying to make fun. I think I just don’t understand yet. So you made rules on how someone could survive a night in a house if the house was haunted by an evil dead child’s ghost?* **Nelson: Not a house. The house. It’s in Utah apparently.** *Mica: And so…this house in Utah, it has an evil child ghost?* **Nelson: So they say.** *Mica: And you make rules so people can spend the night there and survive the, um, the ghost?* **Nelson: I make rules that, if followed closely enough, they would survive the ghost.** *Mica: Isn’t that what…oh, thanks. No, water is fine for me. Are you eating?* **Nelson: I am if you are.** *Mica: Um, sure. I’ll have a cheeseburger with just ketchup.* **Nelson: The same, but with pickles as well.** *Mica: So…I think I’m still not following entirely. Maybe we should back up and start from the beginning. How did you get into this line of work?* **** How does any job start? You find it or it finds you. In this case, it was more the latter. I had recently survived a tragedy that took my girlfriend and best friend, and I was adrift in my own pain and sadness. When my employer approached me, I think I already knew it wasn’t an accident, but in the state I was in, it didn’t seem to matter. I was a drowning man, and any lifeline, even one thrown by a strange hand, was welcome. I understood the work a bit from the start, and I took to it right away. I was never very good at math, but there’s a mechanical precision to words as well. I was taught that crafting a good set of rules was a lot like building a clock—now I’d never known I was good at words or clocks, but it turns out I am. Understanding the parts and how they fit together for their intended purpose. My first set of rules was fairly mundane. A man had come to my employer based on rumors, and while typically customers without references are turned away, this one was accepted and handed over to me. The man was a nasty sort. He had a kind of intellectual contempt for those he saw as his lessers, though from my time with him, he was of middling intelligence outside of a certain creative streak when it came to ways to torture his victims. He wanted a series of rules that were based upon Ancient Egyptian morality. His notes and suggestions were a convoluted mess with questionable sources and no discernable pattern or thematic throughline. Those are big no-nos in our line of work, and I tried to explain that to him, but he wanted to argue. When I finally pared him down to just twelve rules—which was still way too many by the way—then we reached the next problem. He wanted the hatch to be sealed. Sorry. You don’t know what that means. In any set of rules we make, there has to be a legitimate way to succeed. It can be hard or tricky or whatever, but if you reach the escape hatch door, it has to be there and it can’t be locked. He didn’t care about that. He was a dick and didn’t care about the process. I went to my employer and asked what I was supposed to do. If this was a “the customer is always right” kind of thing or what. You know what I was told? Fuck the customer. Only the rules matter. So he got his rules, according to his specifications, but done in a way where the rules were legitimate and had some power, though they were hampered by his insistence on a convoluted and confusing mess of obscure references and poorly thought-out concepts. But it had a complete structure that wasn’t escapable except by the hatch at the end, which is ultimately all we can promise. You can imagine what happened next. He tried to alter the rules and cut out any way to succeed. Two weeks later his first victim was being interviewed on the news and he was found crushed to death in the bottom of an abandoned factory’s elevator. Some might think that taking on his job was a mistake, but I saw it for what it was. It was a way of teaching me several lessons at once while also seeing how I’d handle the work when it wasn’t easy. Did I have the integrity to stand up for the quality and sanctity of what we were doing. If you’d asked me that two months earlier, I’d have probably said no. But now…well, it didn’t take long before I realized how much I was changing—more and more with each new job. And over the last few years, there’s been lots of them. Thank you, dear. **** *Mica: Man, I didn’t realize how hungry I was, but this burger looks great.* **Nathan: Oh, great. They put onions on this. I can’t eat onions. Would you be up for swapping?** *Mica: Plates? Um, yeah, that’s fine. I don’t mind onions.* **Nathan: I appreciate it. Mmm. It tastes great too. Now where was I?** *Mica: Other jobs you have had making rules.* **Nathan: Sure, yes. So I’ve made rules that look like rituals. You know, the kind of thing where you do these weird or seemingly arbitrary steps and something exciting or dangerous or scary will happen. Maybe see a ghost or summon a demon or see the date you’re going to die.** *Mica: So you’re saying your job, or at least part of your job, is making up rituals for magic?* **Nathan: No. Not being rude, but you need to pay closer attention. We do not make actual magic rituals. That is an entirely different thing that requires different knowledge and skills among other things. What we do is make rules that *look* like rituals to people that don’t know any better.** *Mica: Okay, sorry. I see the distinction, but can you explain how it’s practically different? I mean, if you have a real magic ritual that’s designed to summon a ghost and it does, okay? And then you have your rules that look like a real ritual that’s also designed to summon a ghost, what’s the difference?* **Nathan: That’s a better question. There are several differences. The first is where the power comes from. The second is what the designed purpose actually is. You’re assuming my rules are to summon the ghost, when it’s actually something quite different. The fact that the person using the rules doesn’t understand the real point is irrelevant. That’s the third difference between a ritual and rules. Rituals require specific intention. Rules just require some basic belief and consent.** *Mica: So you’re saying that the rules you make aren’t necessarily being made for the reasons that are obvious on their face. Like the asshole killer guy who really just wanted rules to fuck with people and give them false hope when he planned on killing them anyway.* **Nathan: Exactly. Though as I said, to work at all, the structure of the rules has to allow for the possibility of success. The rules can be tricky, but they cannot explicitly lie. If they offer a path to survival, that path must actually exist, however crooked and narrow.** *Mica: But just because the rules say they’re meant to help you doesn’t mean that’s their main reason for being made?* **Nathan: Yes, you’re starting to see it now. I’ll give you some other examples.** **** So there are a lot of ways you could classify or group the kinds of rules we make, but for the sake of simplicity in our discussion, we’ll talk about them in terms of what they would look like to the player. I say player because every game is essentially an intellect and will navigating rules. Conversely, every set of rules is, at least by some definitions, a game waiting to be played. So what kinds of games do we make? There are the basic summoning games, like I mentioned before. Do these things in this way and you’ll call forth this scary or dangerous or supernatural thing. Maybe it’s come to kill you or kidnap you. Maybe it’s come to be your slave or grant you wishes. The prize doesn’t really matter, just the rules. Then there are the location games. Go to this place and do these things just right and you’ll get a certain result. This can still be a summoning kind of thing, but it can be lots of different stuff. Maybe this particular spot will let you see how you die or who your true love is. Or you can throw your enemy’s name or likeness off a bridge and they’ll have bad luck by the next full moon. But my favorites are the survival games. These can be tied to summoning something or a particular spot, of course, but there’s other varieties as well. And they can be very simple or very complex, both of which have their virtues. **** *Mica: When you say survival games, you mean like things you have to do to survive in a particular place or situation?* **Nathan: Or occupation. You’d be surprised how many of those we wind up creating these days. Oh, come on, you know what I mean.** *Mica: I do?* **** Sure. The rules to surviving Humble Hall overnight. Never go on the Stork River in the moonlight. I’m a park ranger. We have a series of odd rules. I’m a search and rescue officer. This job has some strange rules. I’m a bag boy. This store sure does have some weird rules. A thousand variations, but at their core, most of them are the same. They are an enticement dressed as a threat. A trap that looks like a shield. A doom made to seem like an escape. **** **Nathan: You still look confused, so let me explain it this way. In your interests in the bizarre and the macabre and the otherworldly, how many times have you seen stories or real accounts where people talk about the rules for avoiding some dangerous or scary thing?** *Mica: Um, lots I guess.* **Nathan: Sure. Now why do you think those stories and real accounts exist?** *Mica: Because people find them interesting? And people like to be scared. And people like the ideas of rules that you can follow or break, well, because people like puzzles and games.* **Nathan: Exactly. Especially when there are stakes attached, right? That danger, that urge to test yourself and flirt with self-destruction, that’s part of where the power comes from. Take the job ones for instance. Who would take a job as a ranger or a cop or a chef or a whatever where, aside from whatever normal risks you have to take, you have some weird, arbitrary set of rules you need to follow or something really bad will happen to you? Why do people want to go to a suicide forest or try to summon Bloody Mary?** *Mica: Why do you think?* **Nathan: I think it’s the same reason that the best part of Gremlins is after they get food past midnight. People crave danger and death while simultaneously being so egotistical that they think they’re special. That they will follow the rules better than those that have failed, or if they fail to do so, the rules won’t really apply to them.** **Nathan: But that’s just part of it. They also assume that rules mean structure which means order which means safety. If they’re given a job watching a woman in a room, well it’s just an easy, well-paying job. Nothing bad can come from it. Until it does, of course. But then the point of the rules is very rarely what you would think.** *Mica: Like the survival rules not being for survival?* **Nathan: Yes. Like that. Those rules, if followed exactly, should lead to your survival if that is what was promised. But the point of the rules is to challenge and intrigue you. To get you to enter the rules in the first place. And once you’re inside, if you make the slightest mistake, you’re trapped. So we make the rules and then send them out into the world to spread and grow and infect enough people that they become real.** *Mica: Okay, I think I get all of that, but what’s the point? Let’s say I believe you, and you and your employer make all these rules up for different places, spread them around like a virus until people pay attention and start believing them. Using them even. What does that accomplish? I mean, what’s it all for?* **Nathan: Power and control, mostly. You know the old saying, Power is given and control is taken? That’s very true. Do you have an extra pen I can borrow?** *Mica: Uh, yeah. Do you need paper?* **Nathan: No, this napkin should do well enough. What I’m drawing… very crudely…are some of the parts of a clock. Now one way of talking about these parts are by describing three categories: Power, Movement, and Escape.** **** In a mechanical clock, the power is provided by coiled piece of wire called a mainspring. The more you twist the knob on the outside, the tighter the wire is coiled and the more tension that builds. The more power. Now that power has to go somewhere, right? And it does. That kinetic energy is transferred from the tension of the wire to the gears in the clock, moving the gears and amplifying that power even further as it moves from one wheel to the next. But what is the point of the power that’s been harnessed and amplified if it has nowhere to go? No way to be expressed? That is why you have what is called the escapement. It gives the power a release and a purpose. It is the same with our rules, our games. The player provides the initial power either intentionally or unintentionally. Their interest, their fear, their arrogance, their belief, whatever form that initial contact and interaction with the rules takes, it provides power and life to the rules, the gears, of our machines. Except they aren’t just winding a watch, they’re going into it, trying to navigate the wheels and teeth without getting caught or chewed up. This generates more power, which is further amplified by the motion of the rules, until it reaches the point of release. While some sets of rules are truly meant as a conduit for sacrifice, whether the player escapes or not is usually secondary. The real escapement is the release and harvesting of the power generated by their passage and the rules themselves. And every time someone uses the rules or comes to believe them, they are helping solidify another structure of control for someone or some thing. **** *Mica: Kind of like a tulpa? Like the more you believe it, the realer it can become?* **Nathan: Similar in concept, but much more profound. Take Hell, for instance. It is, regardless of your personal thoughts on the matter, a very real place. And it is very, very difficult for anyone or any thing to leave once they are there. Long ago, my employer created one of the only methods for such an escape. It requires special talent and knowledge, and strict adherence to certain rules. Many have tried to use these rules to their benefit, and all but a few have failed with spectacularly hideous results. All because they don’t know how to properly play with dolls, if you can imagine.** *Mica: Dolls?* **Nathan: Oh yes. It sounds silly, doesn’t it? But that’s part of the artistry of it all. Part of the allure. Why would you go somewhere dangerous in the dark? Why work a job where a misstep could mean your doom? Why would you trust a doll to get you out of Hell? Because there’s something in us that wants to feel that doom’s teeth on our neck, sure. But it’s more than that. We also can sense the truth in it. A truth that excites us. That we want to see and hear, maybe even touch, even if we don’t understand it and that lack of knowing terrifies us. It attracts us like a magnet, even when we don’t know it’s there.** *Mica: Yeah, that brings up another question I had. What if you don’t know about the rules? Like if you go to the woods or the haunted house, or you say Bloody Mary or you work a job with a strange set of rules that nobody tells you? What then? You’re just immune to it?* **Nathan: Immune? Oh no. If a person that didn’t understand what a shark was decided to swim with one, would they be immune from being eaten? You haven’t paid enough attention. The rules are what matter. Not the customer. Not the player. Just the rules. Take you for example.** *Mica: Me?* **Nathan: Yes, you. See, in this place, this particular diner that is hard to find unless it is looking for you, there are several rules you must always follow. First, you never sit where someone else asks or tells you to sit. Second, you never eat food that is offered by another patron. Third, you never give anyone anything other than as due payment for your meal.** *Mica: W-what?* **Nathan: Unfortunately, you sat where I requested. You notice the sign up front says “Seat Yourself”? Now you know why.** *Mica: But you…* **Nathan: Then you took the food I offered and ate from it. Nice in the moment, but another violation of the rules.** *Mica: I don’t know what you’re trying…* **Nathan: And then you gave me your pen. That’s three strikes, I’m afraid.** *Mica: Why the fuck can’t I get out of this booth?* **Nathan: You know why. I’ve just explained it.** *Mica: But this is bullshit! I didn’t know about any of this! It’s not fair!* **Nathan: At what point in our conversation did I say the rules had to be fair? A means to escape, sure. But fair? Fairness is a fairy tale told by the stupid to console the weak.** *Mica: But…why? There’s…there’s no point! No power…I didn’t know about this place or these rules. So there’s no belief or whatever, right?* **Nathan: (laughter) Well, that was before. You know now because I’ve told you. And judging by the state of you, I think you believe plenty. Look, I have to be going. If you don’t mind, I’ll take this little recorder with me. Get your story out into the world. I think it will spark some people’s imaginations.** *Mica: Don’t leave me…don’t…wait! Ha! I’ve got you fucker! You broke a rule too!* **Nathan: What’re you talking about?** *Mica: The food! You gave me your fucking burger, and you said you couldn’t give people anything. So if you don’t let me go, you’re stuck too!* **Nathan: Well, that’s a good try, kid. But this isn’t my place, so I couldn’t let you go if I wanted. And I didn’t break any rule.** *Mica: No! You did. You said you can’t give anyone anything…* **Nathan: …except as due payment for your meal. The food I gave helped you break the three rules of this place. That means my payment…** *Mica: You motherfucker, you…* **Nathan: …is you.** [V](https://redd.it/9ndww5)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n3j6t/i_make_lists_of_rules_for_a_living_ive_had/

nosleep

Verastahl

Grandmas House Was Never Safe

im now 19 and I think its time for me to get this off my chest. It started when I was around 5 just after my grandma came to visit. sleeping in my single mothers bed while she slept next to me. I woke up to a terrible headache and someone, no something staring at me. it was 4 am the clock read. i couldnt move as more and more of these things started to appear in front of me. I rubbed my eyes but they were reaching out to me slowly, making sounds as if it were another language, but I was able to make out a few words; "Downstairs", "House", "Room". these were the only words that I was able to make out that morning. they disappeared and I suddenly woke up, the clock now reading 8:42 am. Little did I know this wouldnt be the last time I saw these things. as the months went on I completely forgot about that dream, I was 5 anyways my brain didnt know how to remember such things yet. I was quickly reminded of that night though, as my mom would walk into my room while I read "amulet book 5", she told me "we're going to grandmas tomorrow for the week, dont forget", I was 5 so my luggage was already packed for the trip. The next morning as I woke up I saw it again, staring at me but i could move this time. It was resting on a tree outside my window, its eyes black as midnight and its mouth slowly opening revealing sharp needle like teeth lined up perfectly all the way around its mouth. For some reason i didnt want to run, i went closer to my window and stared back but when my mom called my name it suddenly disappeared. The 2 hour drive to grandmas was peaceful, she lived in a huge house next to remote lake on the top of a small mountain. It was scenic. As we pulled into her driveway I could feel as if something was watching me from a distance, I always did get a weird feeling every time I visited. My mom rings the doorbell, grandma as if she was standing at the door waiting, quickly swung open the door startling me and my mother. She didnt look like herself, her eyes were darker and her hair was beginning to thin even more than it already was. Her voice was raspier too, my mom didnt seem to notice the changes in her appearance or voice, so i went along with it. I guess I thought i was just imagining things. Grandmas house had four stories, the first was where the storage and jacuzzi were along with the dock for the boat. The second story is where the master bedroom was, this is where grandmda slept, it also included 3 closests, a guest bedroom, and the laundry room. The staircase to the third floor from the second was steep, and creepy. There were photos of my great uncles and grandparents hung up along the wall, their eyes would follow you as you walk up or down. The third floor had the living room, dining room and 2 guest bedrooms along with the garage. The third floor overlooked the lake and had a view of the mountains behind. The fourth floor, I cant say with certainty what was on the fourth floor, but I know i wasnt allowed up there. Me and my mom would sleep on the 3rd floor in the biggest guest bedroom. This was the night where i decided to never go back. it was 11pm when we decided to sleep, as i walked to the bedroom my mom would stay back and talk to grandma, what i heard still haunts me to this day. "Its coming back" my grandma said to my mom "its worse then i was before" my mom was silent, thats when she suddenly yells "I CAME HERE WITH MY SON AND THIS IS WHAT YOU TELL ME". The conversation ends as my mom walks into the bedroom. She tells me to go to sleep and that we are leaving first thing in the morning. Thats when it started. I was suddenly hit with what felt like a truck but as a headache, my head was throbbing and all i could hear was faint screaming. everything was grainy as i laid on the bed. I could hear my mom snoring loudly next to me. The headache soon stopped but i could still hear muffled screams coming from the 4th floor aswell as the 2nd. I decided to walk out of the room down to the 2nd floor. walking down those stairs I could see it again, the thing was sitting on the foot of grandmas bed. it smiled at me and let its long skinny arm reach out to me. I tried to run back upstairs but i could only walk forward towards it. I looked at my grandma, but what i saw was no longer her.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16neqwz/grandmas_house_was_never_safe/

nosleep

Top_Coffee_176

The darkness in the loneliness of the night

It was a starry night in rural Georgia when I decided to embark on a nighttime adventure. The moon was high in the sky and the clock read 2 a.m. when I made my decision. The idea of exploring the abandoned church on the outskirts of town had been appealing to me for a long time. Equipped with my flashlight and a camera, I began my journey. The wind whispered softly through the trees as I approached the old church. It stood majestically, once a place of prayer and community but now scarred by time and neglect. Most of the windows were broken and the roof had partially collapsed. I entered the church and was struck by a sudden cold that seemed to eat into my bones. The flashlight cut through the darkness as I moved gingerly through the abandoned building. The clock read 2:30 a.m. as I stood in front of the ornate altar that had once been the centerpiece of the services. As I pointed the camera at the altar to take a photo, I suddenly heard a quiet but eerie knocking. It came from the direction of the nave. My heart began to beat faster and I decided to investigate the source of the noise. The footsteps on the old wooden floor echoed through the church as I approached the nave. Suddenly I saw movement at the edge of my vision. The flashlight trembled in my hand as I aimed the beam in that direction. A shadowy figure stood there, half hidden in the darkness. I froze in fear as the figure slowly approached. An icy shiver ran down my spine when I realized it was a person. The clock now read 3 a.m. when the figure finally stepped into the beam of my flashlight. It was a man in dirty and tattered clothes. His face was marked by immense sadness. He looked at me with empty eyes and began to speak, quietly and pained. "Help me," he whispered. "I'm trapped here, trapped in the darkness." I couldn't help but feel repelled by this eerie apparition, but at the same time I was overcome by a mixture of pity and curiosity. "What happened here?" I asked him in a shaky voice. The man began to tell his story. He was captured in this church many years ago, tortured and tormented by unknown forces. His words echoed through the deserted church and I could feel the chill in the air growing. The clock now read 3:30 a.m. when I decided to accompany the man and help him. He led me to a hidden cellar beneath the church, a gloomy place that seemed steeped in dark secrets. The air was stuffy and the smell of mold hung heavily in the air. I discovered a gruesome scene down there. There were signs and symbols carved into the stonework on the walls, and in the center of the room was an ancient altar surrounded by candles. The man explained that dark rituals had been held here to summon the power of darkness. Suddenly we heard an eerie whisper that seemed to come from everywhere. The candles flickered and the symbols on the walls began to glow. The clock read 4 a.m. when I realized we weren't alone. Something dark and sinister was here, and it had discovered us. The man and I escaped from the basement and ran up the stairs, but the darkness seemed to follow us. The church shook as if it were being shaken by an invisible force. The clock read 4:30 when we finally reached the threshold of the church. We stumbled out into the darkness of the night, and the church seemed to collapse behind us. The eerie whispers faded and the darkness retreated. The clock said 5 a.m. when we were safe, but the memory of that scary night will haunt me forever. I could never fully understand what had happened in that abandoned church. But I knew there was something dark and sinister that lurked in the solitude of the night, ready to devour anyone who ventured into its clutches.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nkkc9/the_darkness_in_the_loneliness_of_the_night/

nosleep

garstig-Atemzug

Something strange was happening in my childhood home

Some strange things happened in my childhood home. It wasn't a particularly old house, it was built in the mid 80's and as far as I know, no one had died there by the time these things started to happen. Nonetheless, it was in a very old part of town, in a part where very dark things happened in the times when Spain governed over our country. Just one block away from my house, there once was a former lake (that dried and was filled a long time ago) where the colonial authorities threw the bodies of a group of Senegalese slaves that were executed for trying to return to their homes. I don't know if any of you believe in the spiritual sense of the word "energies", but I certainly do. And I believe this is a good explanation of the things that happened in my house. Some time before I was born, my parents were having dinner with my brother and older cousins, who at the time were living in our house because they were in a university in our city. All were having a good time making chatter during dinner, when suddenly they all heard the same thing: The strident cry of a baby coming from my brother’s bedroom. My mom recalls that it was loud and short, just one single cry that got everyone out of the loop. And as soon as it appeared, the sound was away. The weird thing is, there was no baby living in our neighborhood at the time. Our neighborhood consisted of twelve semi-detached houses, so it’s not a far shot to theorize that it could have been a baby that stayed the night in one of our neighbor's houses, but the walls were very well insulated. Also everyone remembers that the cry wasn’t muffled, it clearly sounded as if it was inside of our house. Old TV's tended to turn off by themselves. Also things used to get lost pretty often and then they reappeared in the most obvious of places, usually in the places we had searched previously to the point of exhaustion. My brother blamed the gnomes. A more shocking experience happened to me when I was about 7 or 9 years old. My brother threw a party in our house with a couple of friends from university. I was on our old family computer, probably playing Runescape, in the same room where the party was going on, and then I heard a woman screaming. It was a friend of my brother's former girlfriend (for anonymity’s sake let’s call her Carla). She stood below the arch that leads to the living room, just in front of the stairs, staring with horror and yelling at an empty space on the wall. She began to cry and Carla tried to calm her down, but it was in vain. She insisted on leaving, whatever she saw had disturbed her deeply. My brother says that, once she was more calm, she claimed that she saw a man standing on the stairs, staring at her with wrath. It was wearing a long trench coat and a cowboy hat, and everyone seemed to ignore his presence. Everyone but her. The thing that scared the f out of her were his eyes; she claimed that she sensed some kind of ineffable anger in his gaze, and then she was too scared to be in that house. Understandably, she never came back to our house. But there is one thing, one particular encounter I remember the most, as it is the most unbelievable, unexplainable, illogical and baffling, not just of these stories I have told you, but of my entire life. One night not so distant from the other story, my mom wasn’t at home for reasons I don’t remember anymore and my brother had just left for a party at Carla's house. I remember him wearing a black trenchcoat and a brown leather hat. And so, my dad and I were home alone for the night. We were on the couch watching History Channel, as usual, in those years when it was still half about history and half about aliens, antiquities and trying to catch bigfoot only to find nothing at all. All of a sudden, we heard the front door slam shut. We naturally turned our heads, and there he was… A man in a leather trench coat and leather hat; his clothing seemed anachronistic, out of his time. At the moment I couldn’t get a glance of his eyes as the rim of his cowboy-like hat was tilted down, but I remember he had a 3-day stubble beard and a sharp face complexión. He was dressed almost exactly like my brother and had the exact same beard style. I remember thinking "oh, my brother's home early". Also thinking he was my brother, my father tried to talk to him. But he went directly upstairs, ignoring us completely. In that moment I could get a glance of his eyes, they felt soulless, inhuman. I could not sense any evilness in his eyes, like Carla’s friend claimed it did. I remember how he stomped on the steps with haste, almost with anger. I also remember thinking that that man wasn’t my brother, his face was not similar at all… My dad, skeptic and stubborn as he was, still thinking it was my brother said to himself: “This f*cker came back home drunk again” or something along the line. After pondering on the strangeness of the situation, my dad asked if I remembered hearing the door being opened, but can't recall if I did, and also I’d be lying if I said I remember what I answered. Probably I just shrugged. My dad then tried to made me go upstairs to check on my brother’s bedroom, but I was scared sh*tless and refused to go there alone. Finally, we both went upstairs and we entered my brother’s bedroom. Behind the threshold there was nothing but darkness. The lights were off, the windows were closed shut, and there was no sign of anybody being there. My dad checked on the closets, checked on the windows and then checked on the other bedrooms. We were all alone, there was no trail of the hat man. He banished in thin air. We went back downstairs to continue watching our show, trying to forget what just had happened. But it simply wasn’t possible. The absurdity of the situation didn’t make that possible. Shortly after, my brother came back home. My dad questioned him about the whole situation, asking him if he had jumped out of the window or something. My brother denied doing such a thing with an expression of bewilderment on his face. And that was that, we didn’t touch the matter and we moved on with our lives. Some days we would remember while watching a horror movie and say “hey, remember the hat man?”, and time passed and so on and so forth. At a time I even had forgotten the whole situation for years, and then, it simply went back to my head, I remembered the hat man just out of the blue. According to chilean rural folklore, the hat man is the angel of death, to some others he is the devil, and his presence is nothing but the promise of loss and misfortune. That makes sense, because my dad’s life was cut short by an anaphylactic shock when I was twelve years old. My life hasn’t been the same since his death, both economically and emotionally. After my dad’s passing, we eventually moved away from that house. To this day I still wonder, will I see the Hat Man again?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nfthc/something_strange_was_happening_in_my_childhood/

nosleep

Merlyn1133

My dad told me a terrifying story about Grandma, but he didn’t know the half of it.

[Part I](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16m1cro/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/) \- **Part II** \- [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16o07a7/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/) Following the advice of u/BathshebaDarkstone1, I chose not to tell my father what I inferred from his story. But I do have to get to the bottom of this. So, this morning, I returned to my old ways of badgering Dad. “You must know more,” I said. “Grandma could still be hurting people.” My dad scowled. “Cara, please. She’d be a very old woman by now. Even if the police never find her, she’ll be gone from this world eventually. You're safe. I'm safe. Let’s just move on. I thought you’d stop asking questions if I were to finally tell you the whole story.” *But it’s not the whole story*, I thought. “You must have read some of the letters she sent? Maybe she left clues,” I said. “I read all of them. And I took them straight to the police. She hasn’t written to me in about five years, so just drop it,” Dad pleaded. “I’m sorry, Dad, but… I can’t get it out of my head. I keep thinking of those poor people. How they suffered. And this is coming from me — I didn’t even see the photos. I don’t know what things he— *she* did. It must be far worse for you. You must want to do something?” “Nice guilt-tripping,” Dad said. “Yes, I do want to do something. That’s exactly why I’ve been helping the police for years. I’m not protecting her. She may be my mother, but what she did to those people… Yeah, you’re right. You have no idea. And I wouldn’t want you to know. No human could do those things.” “Sorry,” I sighed. “That was a cruel move… I just feel horrible knowing she’s out there. And like you said, I’m an adult. I make my own decisions. So, I want you to know that I’m not going to let this lie. I’m going to look for her.” I expected Dad to shout at me, but he didn’t. He sat thoughtfully at the kitchen table, twiddling his spoon in his cereal, and I waited patiently for a response. Yet again, he surprised me. “I’ll tell you something,” He finally said. I perked up, leaning across the table inquisitively. “The lead detective would check on us regularly,” Dad continued. “Keep me updated on the investigation. And he told me about the immediate connection he drew after they finally pored through the thousands of photos. 36 victims. Every single one was brunette. Could’ve been a wild coincidence, but the lead detective didn't think so. Serial killers often have a pattern.” I instantly shuddered. Another horrifying memory emerged from the fractured recesses of my mind. A memory that, yet again, I didn’t have the stomach to share with my father. Around the age of 8, I distinctly remember waking from a sleepover at my grandparents’ house to find a chunk of my hair — my *brunette* hair — missing. It had been sloppily chopped from the left side of my head during the night. I remember blaming Francesca, as she was the main prankster out of the three of us, but she blamed Sophie. Neither of them owned up to it. I got in big trouble with my parents for that one. I really hope Dad doesn’t remember that, or he’d probably put two and two together. Fortunately, his memory is abysmal. Oh, and, of course, my grandad’s insistence that Sophie and Francesca attend sleepovers makes so much more sense now. They were both brunette too. I had a blonde friend called Lucy who would come over to play from time to time, but the sleepover invitation was never extended to her. It all makes me feel a little bit sick. “I doubt that helps with your investigation,” Dad said. “But then we’re not police officers, are we, pet? Best to leave it to the professionals.” “And you’re not going to tell me about anything you read in the letters?” I asked. “She never gave me any details as to her whereabouts, Cara,” Dad sighed. “She didn’t want to be found.” “Then what did she write?” I asked. Dad shrugged. “Nothing that was ever of much use to the police, in all fairness. But I gave them the letters anyway. She endlessly requested forgiveness. And she asked questions about… well, about you, of course. About your mum too. It made me angry when she asked about the two of you.” “Maybe she was worried about our safety,” I absent-mindedly replied, without thinking about the words that had left my mouth. Dad raised an eyebrow at me. “Cara… I know she was your grandma and you loved her, but she wasn’t the kind woman you remember. That was a lie. A façade she maintained for decades. It’s taken me many years to come to terms with that, so I understand that it might take time for you too. I just… don’t want you to live in denial.” I nodded my head, dejected at the prospect of never having any closure. But then my dad, as he always does, dropped the biggest bombshell as an afterthought. “I suppose… Well, in one letter, she did write something that reminded me of my childhood… ‘Love you, my North Angel. I miss our happy times.’ She used to call me that whenever we visited Gateshead. And I think we all went as a family, didn’t we?” Dad asked. I nodded. I remembered Grandma calling me the exact same thing. “Anyway, the detective contacted police in Gateshead, but nothing ever came of that lead,” Dad said, shrugging. But the line was far more significant to me. Dad was forgetting something, so I excused myself and headed upstairs to the main bathroom. Sure enough, atop a forgotten shelf, there it still stood. The rather large Angel of the North figurine that Grandma had bought whilst we were in Gateshead. “A souvenir to remember happy times.” She said that to all of us. And those words were used again in the letter to Dad. It seemed a bizarre reference to make. But as I removed the figurine, which had been untouched for more than a decade, I noticed a slip of paper stuck to the bottom of the ornament. It read: *John, something’s wrong. You should know that by the time you read this. If not, you might have stumbled upon it by accident. I suppose that would be better than it sitting unnoticed for years.* *Whatever the case, you need to tell the police that we’re in Devon. Remember your dad’s old caravan? That’s where we’ll be. He’s leaving Lancaster soon, and I’ll follow when the time’s right. It’s the only way he’ll spare them. I can’t do anything else to protect you. He's always watching.* *I don’t have time to write any more. I’ve already spent too long in here.* Heart racing, I immediately crumpled the piece of paper and shoved it in my pocket. I didn’t want Dad to find out. But this is, perhaps, one of the most perturbing pieces of the puzzle. Grandad forced Grandma to take the blame. He threatened our safety. Even though the note dated back to 2009, I knew that I had to go to Devon. Grandma might be long gone, as Grandad might, but I wasn’t going to let this horror rest without finding out the truth for myself. And fortunately, I knew exactly where to find the caravan — that was another family holiday Dad’s parents had repeated with me as a child. My dad was already at work, and I called in sick to my job. I didn’t tell my dad where I was going. I jumped into my car, set the destination, and drove for five long hours from Lancaster to Devon. When I arrived, it wasn’t quite the picturesque place I remembered. The UK has been bombarded with torrential showers over the past couple of days, and the sky was painted a murky, near-colourless grey. The horizon was an endless expanse of nothingness, footed by rolling green hills. And, in the midst of a mostly-neglected caravan park, there stood a rusty, forlorn static home. Grandad’s caravan. Yes, it was still there. And as I clambered out of my car, I was suddenly overcome by all-encompassing terror. The realisation of what I was doing had hit me. I wasn’t telling stories with my dad in the comfort of our home. I wasn’t reminiscing on near-misses from my childhood. This was real. I was standing before the home of the Bogeyman. My boots squelched in the sodden, muddy footpath leading up to the caravan’s front door. Rain beat mercilessly down on me, but I was glad of it. The deafening sound of the downpour was drowning out my footsteps. I had the element of surprise on my side. And when I reached the front door, I took several long, measured breaths before finally knocking on it. To my surprise, it swung open. I knew I shouldn’t step inside. The lightless lair of the beast terrified me more than any of my childhood sleepovers. I suppose the knowledge of his heinous crimes — crimes of a real-life man — made me fear him more than any imaginary monster. I bravely moved one foot in front of the other and crossed the threshold. Clearly nobody had stepped foot in that place for a few years, at the very least. There were mould-covered plates in the kitchen sink, and I screamed as a rat scurried from a cupboard, disappearing somewhere into the blackness of the house. “Grandma?” I called. I don’t know why I announced myself. I suppose I’d already accepted that nobody could possibly be living there. I should've just called the police like Grandma said, I thought. But if I’d done that, I would've forfeited my one chance of finding any sort of evidence. So, I pressed onwards, flipping any light switch I could find. Nothing. Probably the result of unpaid electricity bills. Another good sign that nobody lived there. Instead, I fumbled in my pocket for my phone, pulled it out, and turned on the flash-light. I wish I hadn’t. The open-plan living area, comprising of a kitchen and sofas, was an expansive room for a static home. It probably took up most of the caravan. Thirty by ten feet. Humongous. And every inch of the walls — every single inch — was coated in hair. A hundred-thousand pieces of brunette hair. Most strands had a red tinge to them. And the entire demonic decoration was knotted in a criss-crossed pattern. The interwoven pain of a nightmarish man’s victims. Terrified and sickened beyond words, I bent over and hurled onto the floor — thankful, at least, to be eyeing something other than the horror which lined the walls. I quickly turned my flash-light to the corridor which led to the back of the static home. I’d seen enough, and the sooner I could say I’d checked every inch of the caravan, the better. The bathroom was another mouldy, forgotten room — hairless, thankfully. And so, I moved towards the final room of the house. The bedroom. A room emanating a stench so powerful that I feared it more than the horror behind me. I didn’t want to open the door. I really didn't. But I had to do it. And so, door-handle in my sweaty palm, I lightly pushed forwards. Vomit bubbled to the top of my throat again, as I found myself eyeing another room lined with meticulously-intertwined hair — hair that covered not only the walls, but the floor, and every inch of the bed. Every inch of the room. But that wasn’t what horrified me most. What horrified me was the hairy lump merging with the bedding. Grandma. Little more than bones. Well, I can only assume that to be the case because she, too, was coated entirely in hair — I'm only assuming it to be her because there was no way of identifying the body. I didn’t have to get close to know she was dead. And I didn’t want to do so. She was interlaced with the room’s hair blanket, which had spread like a fungus throughout the interior of the house. I can’t decide whether it would have been better or worse to instead see the corpse beneath. I turned to run. But on my way out, I noticed the wardrobe door was ever-so-slightly ajar. It beckoned me, though I knew great horrors lay within. But I had to do it. It was why I travelled so far. And so, stepping onto the soft, hair-blanketed floor, I walked towards the wardrobe and pushed the door fully open. I shrieked. *The Catalogue* Those words were printed on a slim slip of paper, which was attached to the inner door of the empty wooden wardrobe. And a new collection of photos could be found glued to the back panel. Photos of me. My first day at uni in Manchester, back in 2017. Photos of me in clubs. Restaurants. Even a photo of me sleeping in my dorm. He watched me sleep. I thought I had an empty stomach, but I surprised myself, unleashing another horror-driven stream of bile across the floor. But I collected myself and returned my gaze to the inside of the wardrobe. *At least they’re all photos of me*, I thought. Maybe he hasn’t taken any other victims. But they weren’t all photos of me. On the inside of the other door, there was another collection of candid shots. Pictures of my mother. [UPDATE](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16o07a7/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/) [X](https://www.reddit.com/r/dominiceagle) **EDIT:** I called the police. I’ve also taken photos of the wardrobe with my phone’s camera. Maybe something in those pictures could help me find Grandad. I just feel sorry for my dad. There’s no hiding the truth from him now.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mxfrh/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/

nosleep

Theeaglestrikes

Title

I may not know everything, but I feel like I know a little less every day. It started a few weeks ago. It began with me stumbling over my words occasionally, I’m not the most eloquent person in the world but I rarely ever stuttered or mumbled. At first I just thought that I’d had a little too much coffee, maybe not enough sleep. It got more concerning the more frequent it became. Next I’d start to space out in the middle of talking, as if I’d gotten lost, trailing off awkwardly like something else had drawn my attention, even though nothing else was there to do such a thing. I couldn’t tell you any particular thing that might’ve brought this up. I’m not overworked, I’m not too stressed, hell I’m even sleeping as well as I can. So what’s happening? Eventually I started asking friends and family, while I received a myriad of answers and solutions, none of it seemed to do anything. “Maybe you’re not eating right, try some vitamins.” “Try cold showers, it helps with inattentiveness.” “Maybe you’re having some spiritual misalignment, try these essential oils.” I wish I was joking about that last one. As time passed my spacing out got worse, my sentences falling into gibberish happened more often, I seemed to forget everyday knowledge, forget common sense. I felt like a small child first learning how to talk. Even now I can hardly focus on this keyboard. Ikeep looking away at the game I was playing before I started this. I haven’t even left the pause screen in an hour but for some reason it keeps drawing my attention. If I’m not doing that I look away into the dead space and just pick at my lip. I force myself to keep typing this but I can’t focus. It feels like my brain is being drained of everything inside of it. I can tell that I’m getting more lethargic, it's been days and I still haven’t thought of an actual title for this post, it's starting to creep me out though how often my lapses in attention are becoming, it doesn’t feel natural, it feels like an old rubber band being held stretched. Each time it loses more elasticity. Each time I’m here less and less. How long until I don’t stretch anymore? Everything has begun to smell strange. I can’t tell if it's the house or just my melting brain misfiring. I don’t understand what’s wrong. I can’t really keep track of how time passes anymore. I blink and hours pass, I stare at this screen for days and only minutes go by. Before you assume early onset dementia. I’m 25 years old. I work in a library. I have a- I have a girlfriend. I think. Maybe a boyfriend. Early onset dementia starts as early as your forties, very rarely your mid thirties. I’ve never heard of it this early. I don’t do drugs. I don’t think I do. I keep walking away from the computer. I feel uncomfortable, I can’t sit still, I just want to finish this thing and put it up so someone can tell me what’s wrong with me. Why is this happening? Someone has to know. The walls are creaking. I hear things, there’s something inside I know. The moments of clarity are becoming few and far between, I feel so dizzy now. I need to write a note to myself, I can’t forget about this. My head feels like it’s on fire, looking at the screen hurts my eyes but the note on the table says I need to finish this, how much more do I have to write? Why can’t someone else do this? I could hit the post button now and be done with it but I should probably listen to the note. I can hardly keep my hands on the keyboard. I just want to go home. I am home, it looks so different, what changed? I don’t remember writing any of this. I can’t even remember the past week very well. I don’t understand what’s happening to me and I’m scared. I can tell this moment of lucidity won’t last but I need to keep writing as long as I can because I need help. For some reason my phone is broken, most of the food is gone, I can’t tell how long I’ve been here but I’m scared to leave because what if I don’t remember how to get back? I can’t just make food come to me. There’s something in the basement. I heard it. I know I might sound insane but something is down there. I can see a green glow through the doorframe, I don’t know what it is but it can’t be good. I’ve been writing this for days, I looked through and it seems like I never stay typing for more than a couple of minutes but what else have I been doing all this time? Should I investigate the basement? Why is this computer still on? Are you listening to what I’m doing? You can’t see me anymore, I put tape over the webcam. You can’t change things in here now that I know what you’re doing. I’m alone here, the sun is gone, it hasn't come up in days. The clock lies, it doesn’t tell you how the time really passes. You can’t trust them, they aren’t real. The basement is getting louder. It wants something. Why am I still here? Why does the room keep changing? My clothes are different but I never took them off. My mind is different but I never took it out. Why do I keep typing this? Who is it for? Is it for me? Who am I? The words are the only thing that’s left. I just need a little more and I can finish it. The man in the attic keeps stomping, can he hear the music? Is there music? Can you hear? What do the words mean? There’s a note next to the computer. It just says “Finish it.” Why should I? I can just keep typing, it makes me feel important. I can’t focus, I need to focus. What’s in the basement? I keep trying to read this but I can’t. It doesn’t make sense. Is something wrong? Nothing is wrong with me. Arthur C. Clarke's third law: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. How does a person remember something they’ve forgotten, apparently you can never really forget anything but I can’t seem to recall why I ‘m sitting at this desk. There’s blood here. The door is glowing so brightly. I’m scared, I can’t think straight. Please help It’s coming, I can hear it coming. My mind is gone and it feeds off of me. My memories, my sanity, my sense of self awareness. The less of me there is the stronger it becomes and it wants me to know that, all I have left are my racing thoughts and a prayer that I can pry myself away from this before it's too late but I need to finish this. Why should I put more effort into something that's jsut insanity? I can’t see my eyes without a mirror or a picture. Why do we sleep? He’s almost here. The soul weighs 21 grams Is it finished yet?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nktnk/title/

nosleep

LightinTheDungeon

I keep seeing this smiling woman and now I'm terrified to sleep (Part 2)

[Part 1](https://reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/o77SJLfVP9) Warning for mentions of child and sexual abuse. So... I finally talked with my mom after hitting rock bottom. I had another dream. The woman and I where fighting, I don’t know why. She hit me with the wooden spoon again, but this time she also did something else. She pulled my hair, dragged me to the basement door, opened it, threw me in and closed the door, leaving me in the pitch black room. Alone. I tried knocking hard and screamed, ordering her to let me out, but, no response would ever come. I woke up, as you can guess, very distressed, full of bruising I’ve had nearly since the day I moved. The feeling of loneliness, the feeling of being powerless, trapped, not being able to do anything, is worse that the visions of the lady or anything I’ve ever experienced. Alone, seeing nothing but dark, only you and your thoughts. I couldn’t sleep for days after that nightmare. Coffee was the only thing that kept me running. I would soon be hallucinating more and more, but only at the house. I didn’t feel safe in there anymore. I don’t think I ever did. I was in the train to work, I blinked and woke up several hours later, it was now nighttime and I was very far from home. I called my boss, she was worried I never showed up but understood my situation and gave me some days off to recompose. I’ve had enough, if the situation escalated and I lost my job, I wouldn’t have a form to sustain anymore and would never be able to forgive myself. They would put me in a mental institution, but I knew I wasn’t crazy. It was all real, it had to be. The next day, I went to my mother’s house, confessing the visions of the woman I had been having—including the dreams—totally expecting her to say nothing. She didn’t. She told me everything. When I finished my rant, I looked at her and she had more expression in her face than I’ve ever seen, her eyes bolt open. She was crying as she stood up abruptly. My mother came back with a photo in her hand. I took a glance at it, and sure enough, it was the smiling woman but... younger. My mother said that the lady was my grandma, which I’ve never met because she went missing or something, her name was Grace. She never talked about her. It was a taboo topic I wasn’t allowed to ask about. She started from the beginning. They used to live in my aunt’s house, my grandpa died when they were 10 and 8, that’s when my grandma became very abusive, she seemed to enjoy beating them up, and there was no one anymore who could stop her. Grace would grab a wooden spoon—the same one I saw in my dream—and hit them all over their bodies. She was also strangely protective, they weren’t allowed to get out of the house or hang out with friends, but they would often sneak out, anyways. If my grandma found out, she would lock them up in the basement—the one I saw, too—in complete darkness. Just like I had seen. One day she sneaked of to a party. My mother stopped talking at this point, seeming very conflicted to keep telling me what happened. She finally told me she was taken advantage off by an older guy. She was only 16 years old. My mother turned out to be pregnant—I knew she had me very young but she had never told me this. She had to tell my grandma. Grace didn’t take it well, calling her names I don’t even want to write, but you can assume what she said. She kept her in the basement for a week, only opening the door to give her food. I was born, my mother was very honest and said she hated me, since I was the child of her rapist and the cause of more abuse from her mother. Still, she didn’t want me near my grandma. Soon after I first birthday, my mom would meet my dad, he was 18 but he already had a job and could get my mom out of the house. She scaped and moved far away. But she left my aunt with her bully, her own mother. She said she regretted it, she should’ve taken her, but they couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. After 10 years my mother found my aunt on social media and contacted her. They reunited. My aunt hadn’t held a grudge on her, saying she understood why she left. She used to be like that, really altruistic and generous. My aunt told her my grandma left one day and never came back, she reported her missing to the police. My mother thought it was weird that she would leave like that, but didn’t want to push it further. We moved closer to my auntie not long after. My mom wanted to be closer to her sister like they once were. I was 11 when I met her and I’ll always love her since. But, something doesn’t add up, I told her, the basement, there’s no door anywhere. She told me there was one—right beside the kitchen like saw—but that my aunt had covered it up and wouldn’t talk about it. Probably trauma, my mom said. The first couple of years, there was a weird smell coming from it, but my aunt would always be baking something—she was a really good baker—and it disguised it, so no one complained. After that, my mother apologized to me for all she had done to me, saying she never intended to be like her mother, cold and unapologetic, but that she couldn’t hold the pain inside anymore. We hugged, and I forgave her. I quickly said goodbye to my mom, thanking her for telling me the truth, but I was sure there was more to the story that my mom didn’t know. I had to look into that basement. I arrived home. Grabbed a hammer and began striking at the place I had seen the door. Sure enough, it was solid, but it seemed like they were old bricks, so they rapidly fell apart. I energetically hit them, more than once repeatedly. A hole was starting to form as I could hear the bricks falling through the stairs. So there was a basement after all! I lash out once again, the construction crumbled completely, taking me with it. I rolled through the stairs and hit my head on the floor, passing out. I woke up in the dark minutes later, probably with a concussion, but I didn’t care. With the help of the little light that came through the door, I found the switch, and soon I could take a look at my surroundings. Right beside were I fell, there were bones, bones that belonged unmistakably to a human! The skull, still had hair around it, but the femur, I realized, was broken in half. In that moment, I was sure of it. That was surely my missing grandma, the one my mother and aunt never spoke about. She was dead, and her remains were below me all this time. I can only imagine what might have happened, since both of the witnesses are dead, I have no one to confirm my theories. But with my knowledge I can tell you what I think happened. My grandma, Grace, must have fallen through the stairs like I did, but she probably didn’t have the same luck as I did. Hse had fractured her leg, unable to get up or walk. My aunt, seeing her there, helpless, would take revenge upon her, doing the same thing she once did to her daughters. She locked her there. Complete darkness, a broken leg, no food. My grandma died not long after. It was obvious that the police would arrest her if they found out she had done nothing to change her mother’s destiny, so she covered the basement up and filed her as missing. Basing it sorely on my visions, this happened not long before my mom contacted her, hence the smells. My grandma would’ve been around 48 at the time. At the moment, I was still processing everything. But I knew exactly what I had to do. Go to the authorities? No. I had to get rid of her bones or she would never leave me alone. The work is now done and I’m on my way to buy bricks and cement. For the first time, I feel safe in my own house. I wish I could talk to my auntie one last time and tell her that I still love her, and that I understand her decision. That woman was the devil, and she deserved what she got. Now her secret dies with me, and with you. Thanks to everyone who commented trying to help, I appreciate it.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ne7hp/i_keep_seeing_this_smiling_woman_and_now_im/

nosleep

throwaway1_13_1

I went out with the girl of my dreams...

I stood in the frozen food isle looking to the front of the store. My jaw hanging open like I was some kind of zombie. I never meant to be a creep... it's just the new girl Cindy, well she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. "Uhh..." I heard my managers voice from behind me. The rack of salad dressing seasoning I was leaning on mindlessly, toppled to the ground as I sprung out my trance at the sound of my name. "Dennis!" I said ears flushing red with embarrassment as I bent over to clean up the mess I had just made. The clamor of the fall causing everyone around to look our way. "Are you alright? You were staring out into space" Dennis said raising an eyebrow. "Oh... oh.. yeah I was looking, I was uh... looking up front, because I thought someone was stealing" I said bumbling. "Who? The guy in the red!?" Dennis said now scanning the front of the store. "Oh no! Not him. I think... I think it was a false alarm" I mustered out. "Alright then... listen, I need you to go cover cash. Susanne has to leave and the new girl has to have someone there who can help her." "Absolutely!" I said probably sounding too excited. I had to make a good first impression... I walked over trying to play it cool, doing my best cavalier nod in her direction. "Sup." I said trying to imitate all the guys I had seen in every movie and show. "Hi!" she said with a big bright smile. Instantly my cool act crumbled. She was gorgeous. She looked almost *too* perfect... For the rest of the night I tried not to seem like an idiot. A few times I had to help her ring some things through and I think she was kind of surprised by my knowledge (in a good way). I was getting more confident as the night went on. "So anyways, I've been here a while, I basically know all the shelves by now." "Wow" she said seemingly impressed. "Yeah... you know I'm not gonna be here too much longer" I said smugly. "Probably gonna get a job in the city soon, big money. Get out of this dump. " "That's like totally cool." she said twirling her hair. Maybe it was in my head but she really seemed interested in everything I told her. I mean she wasn't sharing too much but anytime I told her about myself she would listen intently, every once in a while interjecting with a 'wow' or a 'cool' and a smile. She was way out of my league but I was going to shoot my shot. After work that night as we were all leaving I pulled up beside her. "Cindy... I was uh, wondering, would you like to go out sometime" I was so nervous. I'm not sure if I caught her by surprise or something but at first she stared down at the ground in front of her into nothing. It felt like it lasted an entire minute. Finally she looked up at me as if she had registered what I had said, her face switching to that happy bright smile I had seen earlier. "Yeah... that would be like... totally cool" her voice with the tell tale valley girl accent that made every sentence sound like a question. "G-g-great. I'll see you tomorrow then!" I said nearly giddy. *** The next few months flew past. Cindy was amazing and I loved every second I spent with her. I took her to every hot spot in town I knew about. I kept telling her how I was finally gonna land that job one day so I could take her anywhere in the world she wanted. At first I didn't notice, I mean I was just so happy to be with her. I really couldn't believe she was dating a guy like me and not flying around doing modelling gigs or something. I tend to talk a lot so I guess it was nice to have a listening ear; she always seemed interested. After a few months I realized, Cindy didn't say much... much of anything really. To be honest and I know it's shallow, but I think I was still so stunned by her looks I hadn't noticed. She didn't have a blemish. It was like she had filters on... in real life. One day I tried to get her to open up. "Hey Cindy..." I said bashfully. "We've been going for a while now and I think that I talk too much about myself maybe... I mean, you don't really ever say anything... like anything at all." I realized how weird it was that we had been seeing each-other for months and she had hardly talked. "Oh.." she said sounding surprised. "Yeah... yeah I guess so!" at first spacey but then it was like she snapped out of it and was excited about it for some reason. "Well... I mean why don't you tell me... I don't know, like what are you into?" I said feeling kind of foolish. I really didn't know anything about her. Of course I knew some things about her... I had met her family and been to her house, they all seemed friendly enough. I had been in her room briefly but only once or twice. She had some posters and books but not much else. A few porcelain dolls she called her 'friends' (*which I admit is kind of funny now*) and a vanity table where she would do her make up. There was a TV show she liked that we watched together once, I didn't really follow the plot. I was too distracted by her. I kept glancing over and it seemed like she was enjoying it but her expression was kind of... idk, like monotone or something. She just kept smiling at the screen with glassy eyes. Afterwards I asked her what she liked about the show and all she said was... "I don't know, they're... they're all so nice. I just like it." her voice trailed off. We went roller skating a few times. We didn't talk much then either. I was infatuated with her though. Did I mention she was beautiful? She was like really really pretty. I think she had fun. I remember looking at her when we were out and she sort of had this vacant expression; at that time I figured she was focused on not falling. I snapped out of my recollection as she started to answer my question. "Well..." her tone raising as if her brain was compiling data for some gargantuan task elongating the syllables. Her eyes blinking as she stared out into space. "Well..." I said encouraging her as time dragged on. "Like.. when I get this job. Where do you want to go? I said I would take you anywhere. Japan? Mexico? Australia?" "Yeah!" she said with a bubbly laugh and smile. "Yeah... but where do YOU want to go" I said trying to help her find the answer as she sat there contemplating like she was computing the final sequence of digits in pi. Her brow furrowed slightly and her mouth opened, almost reminding me of that meme of the surprised Pikachu. What was so difficult about a simple question? "You know what" I said interjecting. "It's cool, it's totally cool. We can go to all of them." I said trying to make light of the awkwardness of her apparent mental meltdown. To be honest I was fine if the girl I was dating didn't have much in the 'brains' department, she had a good heart I thought. Plus, she was so so unbelievably pretty. *** Friday evening rolled around and I had decided I was going to surprise Cindy. I had at least found out in the time we had been dating what some of her favourite snacks were. I stopped at the store and picked them up and a special edition magazine about that show she liked. I had mentioned my plan to her parents. They told me they would be out, but just to walk in; they were positive she would love it. I pulled up to the house as silently as I could. I would be sure not to scare her but didn't want her to know I was there. I texted her before I left and she said all she had planned tonight was relaxing and watching her show with her 'friends'. I noticed it was really quiet. It didn't look like any of the lights were on. I sent her another text, but she didn't respond. I walked up the porch with the surprise snacks and magazine in hand, carefully opening the door as I walked inside. I had expected to hear the TV or the radio going, maybe Cindy in the kitchen cooking, or the shower running. Instead it was dead silent. Was she even home? Maybe this was a dumb idea I thought. The house was uncomfortably dim and looked almost foreign in the dark. "Cin-dy" I said in a melodic whisper as I crept through the house. I looked up the stairwell and saw a sliver of light. I realized she must be in her room so I started my way up the stairs. While tiptoeing, I noticed something in the photos on the wall of the stairwell. Cindy was hardly in any of them... and the ones she was in? Her expression... her expression, or more aptly lack of one, was completely flat. "What..." I said taken aback. The Cindy I knew was always smiling... how strange I thought, as I continued up the stairs. I could hear her now. She was in her room. She was humming quietly to herself. A thin ray of dim light emanated from the crack in the door. The wood floors creaking nearly imperceptibly as I made my way to the room. I rested my hand on the handle for a moment and slowly pushed it open. There she was, gorgeous as ever brushing her hair. The strands like silk and ivory waves as they fell gracefully through the comb. She still hadn't noticed. She was seated at her vanity, her back to me. It was too dark for the mirror to show a proper reflection. I wanted to speak but I was almost enchanted. She reached into a drawer in the desk and pulled out what looked like a key. I watched mesmerized. Then my heart stopped. Cindy's movements were extremely rigid, her arm contorted behind her almost inhumanly as I watched her part her hair and unzip the upper part of her dress. Her hand pressed into her back and I heard a click and a pop, a panel springing open. I watched in absolute shock as she inserted the key into her back and began turning, her movements becoming more fluid with each turn. I gasped audibly. She stopped. Her head slowly rotated in my direction 180 degrees. There was no smile now, her eyes cold and sharp piercing through me. "Cindy..." I said astonished. Like a switch I could see her start to try and form a smile, but something was wrong. I had interrupted her process... Her arm fell limp like a puppet. Her expression became emotionless again, her right arm struggling to reach behind, finally turning the key. She stood from her chair and walked slowly towards me. "You... were NOT supposed to see ME like this!" her voice hard and harsh. I was too stunned to move. Then, she placed both her hands on her face behind her jaw. I heard the same click and pop as before and watched aghast, unable to move as she pulled the visage of her face from the frame. Like a wooden mask, a facade... I felt a strange sensation in my legs. I looked down at my feet and watched in amazement as they slowly became hard like stone. I looked back up to Cindy in unbelieving horror. Her perfect doll-like complexion gone... her features the same but her skin ghastly pale and eyes black with hate. I was being petrified. The last thing I can recall thinking as the solidification overtook my body was... in spite of the horror of the situation and the fact that I would soon be stone... *Still.. so... pretty...* I woke a few days later in the hospital. They told me they had found me standing completely motionless in a local park. The doctors diagnosed it as some undocumented type of stasis. Fortunately I did wake up and my body has returned to normal for the most part. I drove to Cindy's house as soon as I was released. I don't know what I expected. It couldn't have been Cindy that did this to me... that was all some sort of bizarre dream. I checked my bank statement, it showed that I had been to the grocer that evening when I picked up the magazine. It was real. When I got to the house I saw it right away. The 'For Sale' sign; the house already sold. I knocked on the door regardless. There was no one... I looked inside the house. All the furniture was gone. All of the items... gone. Cindy... was gone. *** I've tried dating a few times since all of this happened. For some reason it just isn't the same. I guess I'm not used to dating girls who talk so much, and even though some of them are very beautiful they don't compare to Cindy... I still have a photo of when we were together. I found a number for a local porcelain doll maker. I think I'm going to get him to go through with it... He said it was strange but he should be capable. It will never replace her... the life sized doll of Cindy... but I think we will get along fine... *I do most of the talking anyways.*

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n35v3/i_went_out_with_the_girl_of_my_dreams/

nosleep

Severe-Actuary9562

Tape 1: Postman

I noticed a homeless man with a shopping cart filled with tons of dusty VCR tapes approaching me while I was on my trip to the nearby grocery store. I tried ignoring him, but he looked me straight in the eyes and said "Hey, buy a tape, I promise they're worth it!". I just ignored him and sped up to enter the store as soon as possible, he wasn't disappointed at all and calmly said "Don't worry, first batch of tapes is free, I'll even deliver them to you!'. I quickly understood the creepy tape seller was a man of his word, not even 20 minutes passed after I returned home and I had a box of VCR tapes waiting for me at my doorstep, only it wasn't really your normal delivery. It was more of like when a kid tries to prank you by ringing your doorbell and then running away, so you're greeted with nothing after you open the door, except instead of nothing, I was greeted with a box filled with 10 VCR tapes. Curiosity got the better of me, so after a bit of searching, I ordered a VCR player from eBay. It arrived fairly quickly, luckily I already had a compatible old TV stashed up in my garage. My viewing experience began after I excitedly hooked up the VCR to the dusty TV that looked more like a mini fridge than a TV. To better keep track of what I've watched, I'll transcribe these videos, one by one. TAPE 1: POSTMAN Ring Robert (Opens his eyes): What the hell? Ring Robert (angrily whispers to self): I'm too damn hungover for this... Robert groggily walks to the door while the ringing continues, he looks at the peephole, strangely it seems to be either covered with something or blurred by some kind of liquid. Robert: Umm, hello? Person at the other side of the door: Hello, Mister Robert! Got a package here for you! Robert (scratching his head): Package, what package?  Person at the other side of door: Oh yes, your name and address is written on it, says here you don't even have to pay for it.  Robert: Well, I didn't order anything recently, must be some kind of mistake. Person at the other side of door: I don't think it's a mistake, sir! Robert: Yeah, how so? Person at the other side of the door: Well, I looked at the info written on the package itself, looks like you won some kind of prize from the Coca Cola company. Robert: No way! Person at the other side of the door: I heard there's a random prize giveaway organized by the Coca Cola company going on recently, seems like they picked you as the winner, it's your lucky day, sir! Robert (whispers to self): Was about time Coke rewarded me for drinking their bottled cancer for ages! Robert: You sure I don't even have to pay for the delivery fees? Person at the other side of door: Everything is paid for already, the only thing I need is your signature. Robert: You really made my day, man! Been a while since I won anything! Let me just find my wallet and I'll give you a tip for your trouble. Postman: That won't be necessary. Not trying to be rude, sir, but we postmen are busy people, we can't afford to lose too much time, so If you could kindly just open the door and take the package, I would be very grateful, As I already said, I'll just need your signature as proof that you received the package! Robert: Sure thing, man! Let me just grab a pen so I can sign it! Robert scrambles to the living room, he tries to find a pen in his messy room, but he notices something that makes him freeze in place. Robert (YELLING) I'M CALLING THE POLICE! A blood chilling, almost animalistic screech followed by heavy, yet fast footsteps emerges from the other side of the door as soon as Robert finishes his sentence. In no more than 30 seconds, the sound of the main building door slamming shut is heard. Robert quickly takes a peek at the window trying to see who or what exited the building, he momentarily sees an extremely tall figure that would put even the tallest of basketball players to shame disappearing in the darkness. Robert slowly approaches the clock in his living room. Robert (while looking at the clock): Thanks buddy, I owe you one!  TIME ON THE CLOCK: 2:53 AM *The Screen flashes as an eerie warning appears* *WARNING: START WATCHING THE SECOND TAPE NOW OR SUFFER!* TAPE ENDS *I stare in confusion at the tv, wondering what the hell I just witnessed.* *I pour myself a glass of water and take a sip, a sharp pain hits me as soon as I do. I spit out the water and with it a bloody tooth. I try picking up the tooth to try an examine it, but before I can even take a better look, another wave of extreme pain hits me, but this time I feel it coming from my fingers, more specifically the index finger of my right hand, as I take a look at my index finger, I see the nail is completely missing, the only thing left is bloody flesh.* *While processing the disturbing mix of pain and fear, I remember the warning at the end of the tape, "No way!" I whisper to myself as I begin to realize the warning might be serious. In an act of desperation, I put the second tape in the VCR player.* *The tape starts, immediately my tv screen flashes brighter than ever before, it was so bright that I had to close my eyes for a couple of seconds. Miraculously, as soon as I opened my eyes, my wounds were gone, not only did the pain and bleeding stop, but I looked like nothing even happened to me, my nail was back on my finger, I poked my teeth with my tongue and confirmed the bloody tooth that was on my table just moments ago, was now in my mouth and in perfect condition.* *The realization hits me, looks like I'm not leaving until I watch all 10 tapes, even a short bathroom break could be my doom.* *I prepare myself as my eyes stick to the tv like super glue.* *Tape 2: Chickens, Begins.*

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16my7yx/tape_1_postman/

nosleep

GeneralP123

I Put A Camera Up and Caught What Was Haunting Me

So I recently moved into a new house in a pretty nice cul-de-sac. It’s surrounded by carbon copy houses and this one was in the same price range as the others; so I didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary. It’s only a two bedroom place with a full bathroom, a one car garage and a spacious living room. I live alone so I’ve turned one of the bedrooms into an office space so that I can work from home. Now I’ve gotten moved in, my bedroom looks nice and I’ve even had friends over. So when the haunting started I had already gotten comfortable with the space. At first it was small things: maybe the tv would already be on when I got up to make breakfast, or one of my dining room chairs was pulled back away from the table. One morning I even came out to see that my shelf of figurines were all turned so that they faced my bedroom door; but soon enough it got worse. Whatever was messing with me began to do so in my waking hours. I’d turn away from the bathroom only for the door to close and the light to come on, or I’d be watching tv and my fridge would swing open whenever my eyes weren’t on it. These always happened whenever I wasn’t looking. Well recently I decided I had had enough, I was tired of living in fear of whatever was living in my house with me, so I decided to set up a camera in the living room, and I posted what I saw [here.](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cJxM4QU8RUuNCTmfe9ThP9w-eV4y_9P37YotSaMciR0/edit?usp=drivesdk) Reviewing the footage, it was like this black figure created some sort of void and stepped out. It’d do mundane things like sit on my couch and watch tv, or admire my trinkets that I have on my shelf. Sometimes it’d go off from where I could see it and it’d come back with a plate full of food. At one point I noticed it headed in the direction of my bedroom. I hadn’t noticed anything weird when I slept that night so I decided to hatch a plan. I decided that I’d take something to keep me up, pretend to sleep, then catch the entity in the act to see whatever he was doing. I put my plan into action the next day and laid comfortably in my bed, eyes closed and waited. Soon enough I heard noises coming from the rest of the house, it must have started its nightly ritual. I waited an hour, then another, and another until finally my bedroom door creaked open. I didn’t dare open my eyes as I heard its footsteps approaching until they stopped right next to my bed. It sniffed, and it sounded like a dog's sniff but garbled. SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF. It then put its icy damp hand on my forehead. “Please sleep… I want dessert.” It said, but not physically. It was as if it was speaking through my thoughts. At that point I freaked out and opened my eyes, all I could see was the glow of its piercing white eyes and I noticed that it had no mouth, or at least I think it didn’t. As soon as I caught a small glimpse of it it ran out of my room, its long arms flapping back and forth low to the ground like how an ape would run if it was only using its hind legs. But this wasn’t an ape, it was a long slender man made of shadows. I’ve been monitoring my situation the past few days after the incident, and the entity seemed more scared of me than I was scared of him. I decided to leave him a note asking that he put things back the way it was before it messed with them and for the most part it seems like it’s been working. The camera is still catching it in the act but it seems to have listened to my note.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mq5jn/i_put_a_camera_up_and_caught_what_was_haunting_me/

nosleep

StrBcksKat

I think my best friend from high school is possessed

I think my friend from high school is possessed by something evil. Let me fill you in with some back story and you can let me know what you think because I’m afraid whatever has taken over her is coming after me next. 16 years agoWhen I was seventeen (which is getting to be quite a few years back now) I had an older male friend, let’s call him Jason for privacy. Now, when I say older I only mean he was 20 to my 17. Anyways, his age plays into the story which is why I mention it in case you were wondering. We lived in an incredibly small town, one where everyone knows everyone, so your reliability can be determined by who your parents are. This is why at the ripe age of 20 he was given the responsibility of making sure a small, church run, private school was locked up each night. The school was on the same property as the church that ran it, but was in an older building that was several yards away. To be honest, it always creeped me out, but back then I couldn’t even stand to be in a room without a small light, so of course a dark, unoccupied building would give me the heeby jeebys. How I got roped into going with him sometimes is simple: I had a HUGE crush on this man. Since he had already graduated I didn’t see him at school, so this was one of the ways I could hang out with him. During this time there was also a girl I went to high school with and during our junior year we became really good friends, we’ll call her Susan. She also happened to work with the guy I had a crush on at the local grocery store, so sometimes all three of us would hang out. That also meant that she would also tag along with us when he went to lock up the school. I’ll admit, there was a bit of jealousy over their friendship, but that has no bearing on this story.Anyways, close to the end of my senior year I had a death in the family. To make me feel better a group of friends, both Jason and Susan included, took me out to eat at a local food spot. It was fun and made me feel much better, especially since I had only been around family, who were also in mourning, for almost a week. Dinner wrapped up and we all went, as a group, to help Jason lock up the school. I guess now would be a time to mention that while I had nothing to do with the occult, a few others were fascinated with it, especially Susan. She always wanted to see ghosts when out late at night and would tell me how she’d love to be able to talk to one. She knew I didn’t like talking about that stuff, so she didn’t mention it often. Anyways, looking back, I should have seen what happened next coming. Once we got to the school we made our way around the parameter, laughing and cutting up. It felt so good to laugh. Once we made sure all the doors were locked we made our way inside to make sure everything was turned off. Honestly, I think we used the fact that Jason had a key to keep the night going. We all piled into the dining hall, when of course, the conversation turned to if we think the building was haunted. I’ll be honest, back then I didn’t believe in any of this stuff. I got creeped out, sure, but that had more to do with an empty building at night and the possibility of other people breaking in than it did with a fear of seeing a ghost. During our conversation Susan decided to lay her head down and close her eyes for a bit. She’d snuck some vodka into her coke at the restaurant and it had finally hit her. Look, I know that sounds crazy, but this was the early 2000’s and a small restaurant in a small town. Crazier things had happened. I was a little worried about her, but it wasn’t the first time alcohol had hit her hard. Looking back, I should have offered to just take her home. The “what ifs” haunt me to this day. Ha, haunt. What a choice of words. The others decided they wanted to try and see if they could get a ghost to talk to them. I can still feel the clinch of my gut when they began, even though at the time I wasn’t see why. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this many times before.Jason started to speak out loud, asking whatever he hoped was in the room with us to show itself. They had their digital cameras out to take pictures in hopes of seeing something when they looked back. I didn’t like the idea, something deep in my brain telling me that while I TOLD myself I didn’t believe in ghosts, I didn’t want to test that theory. However, because I didn’t want to be the wet blanket, I took out my camera as well. We began to take pictures of different areas of the room, with flash and without. Susan stayed asleep through the whole thing, so I decided to snap a picture of her to hold as a friendly sort of blackmail when I’d returned to the table. As soon as I did the flash must have startled her because she blinked and gave an odd sort of groan.I glanced at my camera screen and went to the photos I’d taken. ”Amy?” I looked over at Susan to see she was awake. (Amy isn’t my real name, but you know the drill)I went over and sat next to her. I told her Jason was up to his usual ghost hunting and that she could go back to sleep and I’d wake her when everyone was done. She didn’t answer, so I assumed she’d done as I said and went back to sleep. I should have looked at her, damnit I should have, but I kept looking at my stupid camera. Nothing stood out, but that was normal. Like I said, I didn’t believe in ghosts or anything like it and had never once captured anything odd. The rest of the group finally came back and sat around me and Susan. I asked them if they got anything good, but they all said no. “I guess we should just get out of here. It’s getting late.” Jason said. I nodded my head and went to shake Susan awake, but when I looked over at her she was gone. “What the hell?” I murmured to myself. Jason looked over at me and made a face. “Where’s Susan?” “I don’t know. She was just here.” I said back as I got up. Just then we all heard a loud crash.“Shit.” One of the other guys said as we all turned to see Susan stumbling out of the kitchen area. “Damnit Susan! You’re going to get me fired if you mess anything up!” Jason said as he made his way over to her. Well, he started to, but then he noticed that she had a knife in her hand. I hadn’t seen it yet, so when Jason came over to stand in front of me I frowned. “Susan, why do you have a knife?” Craig, one of the other guys, asked. Knife? Why the hell would she have a knife? “This isn’t funny Susan, put that away and clean up your mess so we can get out of here.” Jason said, though he didn’t move. I glanced around him and saw Susan standing a few feet away. She had a weird, glazed look to her eyes. She’d never acted like this before and my stupid brain immediately went to the plot of the last horror movie I’d watched. The main character ended up possessed by a demon and murdered her whole family. Suddenly she began to run towards us, knife raised. “Shit!” Jason said as he pulled me out of reach. The others said similar things and moved away. “Susan! Stop this now! It isn’t funny!” Kayla said, the only other girl in our group. Susan tilted her head to look over at Kayla and gave her the most sinister smile I’d ever seen. She then began to laugh, her whole body shaking. I though she would drop the act then but she simply stood there laughing. Kayla, partly brave and mostly stupid, huffed and went over to where Susan stood. She went to grab the knife but Susan stopped laughing and slammed the knife into Kayla’s neck. My eyes bulged and I would have screamed if I could have made a sound. Susan pulled the knife out of Kayla’s neck and began to stab her repeatedly. Jason, thankfully not frozen, grabbed my hand and pulled me with him out of the doors that lead to the outside. I don’t remember much about what happened next, but apparently Jason loaded me into his truck and took off. Craig and the rest of the guys also booked it out of there after seeing all the stabs Kayla had to her neck and chest and one of them called 911. When the cops and paramedics arrived they found Susan sitting in a pool of blood with Kayla’s body, knife sticking out of her chest, next to her. Susan surrendered without putting up a fight. All she did was mumble about a “him”. We all had to give statements about what happened. I told them she’d had a small amount of vodka to drink, but she had never gotten violent before. I told them that one minute she’d been asleep and the next she attacked Kayla. The funny thing is, no news reports ever really came out about it. Our local paper ran a story about it, but where Susan was underage they never actually named her. She’d skipped a grade in elementary school, so she was only 16 at the time. I ended up finishing school early and moved away from that town as soon as I could. I couldn’t take the stares and eyes filled with pity. Jason, in a twist of fate, came with me. He transferred to UCLA and I enrolled with him. It’s funny because I honestly don’t remember applying there, but when I was trying to figure out what school would take me the farthest away that acceptance letter was in top of my pile. Jason had applied after I made my decision and because he had a GPA of 3.9 at the University of Tennessee he was able to transfer in.Later that year my mom sent me an email with the verdict of Susan’s trial - Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity. The psychiatrists that evaluated her ended up diagnosing her with schizophrenia, though to this day that always felt off to me. She’d never displayed any signs of the illness before that night and ever since then she’s become mute. She never said why she did it, only that the man told her too. Honestly, I think her grandparents made everything go away. While her parents weren’t well-to-do, her grandfather was in business with the father of one of the state’s senators. I visited her once before I left, hoping to get closure. She’d been my best friend and then in the blink of an eye she became someone else entirely, but the she just stared blankly at me the entire time. The only other time I saw her was when I had to come back to testify at her trial. I didn’t follow it after that because I wanted to leave it all behind.I went back to California and finished school, graduating with a degree in mechanical engineering. Jason also graduated the year after we moved and went on to attend medical school. We got married during his first year of residency and settled into life in North Carolina for the duration. We liked it so much that we ended up staying when he was offered an attending position at the same hospital he did his residency at. It was still far enough away from our hometown, but it was close enough that our family could come visit. They understood why we didn’t want to come back home. I’d almost moved on from the ordeal now that sixteen years had passed. Don’t get me wrong, I still have trust issues and never got close to anyone again. Jason was the kind of the same, though he did make friends with some of the guys he went to medical school with. My therapist says I’m as close to being healed from the event as I could be.That was, until a few days ago. I received a letter with no return address, which I felt was odd, but I opened it any way. My hands shook as I realized it was from Susan. “Why now” was all I could think as I began to read what she’d written. Amy, I’m writing you this because someone needs to know the truth and I don’t know how much longer he will let me keep control. There’s something wrong with me Amy. That night, before everything happened, something took over me. There was a big blotch of ink and it looked like the pen even ripped the paper. I blinked a few times but kept reading. You should have checked your camera. That was it. The letter ended and I let it slip out of my hands. I should have checked my camera? My eye widened and my heart dropped.I grabbed the paper again and noticed that the handwriting at the end of the letter didn’t match the beginning. I felt a chill go down my spine. Jason found me in the attic later that night when he finished up at the hospital. In my hands was my old digital camera and the letter lay beside me. I kept staring at the image in the screen even when he sat next to me and picked up the letter. He crumpled it up and took the camera out of my hands, looked at the screen, and then turned it off and took the batteries out. “Forget about it Amy.” He told me as he wrapped an arm around me. It’s been three days but I can’t get that image of Susan sitting at that table with her head down while a dark, masculine figure hovered next to her. It was the he she referred to in the trial and letter. I’d had the truth about what happened packed away in a box for almost two decades. Jason burned the letter, but simply put the camera away. He tries to act tough, but I can tell it’s scared him. Late last night I could hear him mutter about how she could have gotten our address. He thought I was asleep, but I cracked an eye open and saw that he was staring at an image on my old camera. I didn’t tell him that I know how she got the letter got to us though, because I know that SHE didn’t. That thing did.And now I’m afraid it’s coming after us next. It knows we know. After all, Susan didn’t send us the letter. He did.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n4xr6/i_think_my_best_friend_from_high_school_is/

nosleep

Busy-Company8642

My parents told me not to follow the light in the water, I didn't listen. Part 2

Part 1: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lmk1j/my\_parents\_told\_me\_not\_to\_follow\_the\_light\_in\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lmk1j/my_parents_told_me_not_to_follow_the_light_in_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) The sun had just risen, and my parents were about to unlock the door to my bedroom, after the fiasco last week, my parents wanted to make sure I didn’t get out at night. I walked toward a shelf to grab a toy and tripped on a block I’d left on the floor, ran forward, and banged my head on the wall. It made a little dent, and I could hear an echo, the wall was hollow. I got up and knocked on the wall a few more times, and each time I could hear the knock reverberate behind the wall. Then I could hear the door unlocking, and I shifted away from the wall, I didn’t want anyone to know what I was doing, I don’t know why, it felt like another thing that I should keep secret. Maybe if there was something to be afraid of in the hollow then talking about it would make it more real. My mother stood at the door and informed me that breakfast was ready, I put on a pair of shorts and a shirt and walked to the table. The sun beamed through the window, brightening the table, highlighting the specks of dust that floated through the air. There was a bowl of cereal, and a banana waiting for me. My mom sat on the other side of the table with a cup of coffee, my father, according to my mom, had gone out for the day. She walked to the kitchen and slammed her hands on the table “who’s ready for school today!” she shouted. I jumped in my seat a bit, milk from my cereal bowl spilled onto the tablecloth. I didn’t have any time to react. “I said – who’s ready for school today!” she shouted. “I am” I said, my heart wasn’t in it, but I knew I didn’t really have an option. I really was a very well-behaved kid, thinking back on it, it’s a real wonder that I disobeyed my parents at all, but that glowing light – I wouldn’t feel a pull like that until much older, and sadder times. I finished my cereal, and my mom sucked down, I want to say her third, cup of coffee. She was shaking, ready to teach. “Eat your banana, you need nutrients!” she was now pacing back and forth, her eyes were wide, and she was clenching her teeth. As soon as I finished my banana, my mom ran to the cupboard where she kept my school supplies, pulled them out, and dropped them in a heap onto the table. Notebooks, pencils, stray pieces of paper, activities, a couple of those children’s books with the cardboard pages. She picked up a book I hadn’t seen before, well it wasn’t a book, it was a college rule notebook that she’d taped a piece of paper to. On the paper was a little stick figure, with a big “X” over it, and in bold red letters, same color as the “X”, it read “Things Jeremy shouldn’t do”, if you haven’t made the leap, my name is Jeremy. She pulled up a seat so that it was touching mine and opened to the first page of her “book”. “Do not go outside after dark!” in big bold letters, this was very important. There was the same stick figure, standing on a little beach, big tentacles were coming out of the water, in the middle of gesticulating wildly, as if to say “If you come on here, I am going to fuck your shit up, so bad” – message received. “Can you read this for me, Jeremy?” My mom asked. “Do not go outside after dark,” I said. “Okay, and why is that?” My mom asked. “Because if I do the sea-witch will get me.” “Correct, Jeremy, and if the sea-witch gets you she will carve up your skin with her talons, and she will chew on your bones. Nobody will ever find your body, and nobody will remember you were even born” “Won’t you and dad remember me?” “No, that’s part of it, when the sea-witch gets someone, everyone he knew gets their memory erased. It’s like that episode of the twilight zone…” "The What?” “Never mind, and don’t ask me about that again. Where was I?” “You’ll get your memory erased?” “Right, right. Everyone who ever knew you will forget that you existed, it’ll be like you were never here at all. Daddy will scratch his head and wonder why there are toys in the house, he’ll think ‘oh, there must be some reason we have children’s toys, but it’ll never come to him. And there you’ll be sitting in the stomach of a sea-witch, burning up in her stomach acid. And also, and this is important, that will never end. You will never know the sweet release of death.” “I don’t want to die!” I started to tear up a bit, my mother leaned in closer, she wanted to drive this point home. “Your soul will burn inside the stomach of the horrible sea-witch for all of eternity, as she glides around her sea cave, trapping other young boys. “Will I at least have friends?” “Yes, but you can’t talk to them, and their bodies are so grotesque that if you were to look upon them you would go insane. So, I wouldn’t recommend it.” “Can we turn the page?” “Yes sweetie, go ahead and turn the page.” I opened the next page of the book, and there was another stick figure, and he was standing on a ladder leading into the ceiling, an attic. Another giant red “X” graced the page. “Do not go in the attic” it read. “What does it say?” My mom quizzed. “Do not go in the attic?” I said, looking away. “That’s right, do not go in the attic.” “Why?” I asked. “Don’t go in the fucking attic, Jeremy!” “I won’t” “Don’t ever ask me about the attic. Don’t talk about the attic, don’t look at the attic, don’t even fucking think about the god damn attic, I swear to fuck, Jeremy, don’t go in the fucking attic” she was starting to scream now. I got up from the chair and ran into the living room, I didn’t want any more of this book. My mom ran after me, picked me up and held me to her bosom. I could feel her tears on the back of my neck. She was sobbing and shaking “Don’t go in the attic Jeremy, promise you won’t go in.” I was crying, she was crying, “I promise mommy, I won’t go in the attic.” There was a knock at the door then, my mom put me down, wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and went to answer. She opened it and there was a kid standing there. He had messy blonde hair and wore a shirt with a monster truck on it that read “Grave Digger” in slimy green letters that popped just a little off the cotton. My mom just stood there; her eyes fixed on this strange kid. The kid said something I couldn’t make out, it looked as if he were whispering, as if he had some clandestine information to share with my mother. My mother nodded, and then said, very curtly, “Why don’t you come inside?” The kid walked into the room, a smile on his face, he stared at me or through me, I’m not really sure. It was extremely uncomfortable. “Just wait there for a moment” My mom said. The kid didn’t say anything in return. My mother rummaged through a drawer and came back out into the living room with a dagger. A metal blade, and a gold handle sculpted to look like the head of a dragon. A large jewel was encrusted in the dragon’s eye. My mom lunged forward and stabbed the child in the eye. The child screamed. Blood ran down his cheeks, and tears down his other eye. Before the child could react any more my mother stabbed him in the face again, and again, and again. Blood flying onto the carpet, my mother shaking, tears rolling down her face. The kid collapsed onto the ground. I looked at the kid, my body wouldn’t react, I truly was petrified. My mom looked at me, covered in blood, and said “Go to your room, class is over for today.” I couldn’t move. “Go to your fucking room Jeremy!” I snapped out of it, but before I did, I could see the child’s lips moving, he was looking directly at me. “Go back in the water” he whispered. Then he stopped. I forced myself to walk and went back into my room. That night, I had to find a way to the ocean. ​ part 3: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16o4o4r/my\_parents\_told\_me\_not\_to\_follow\_the\_light\_in\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n9uwf/my_parents_told_me_not_to_follow_the_light_in_the/

nosleep

jazzgrackle

Welcome to Dreadford

Medford is a total drag. I don’t know what I was thinking moving here. Getting a job. Buying a house. After the initial rush wore off, after I had cramped my writing hand signing 8,000 papers, I picked up my keys, organized my (admittedly sparse) material items into some semblance of hominess and ordered a pizza for my inaugural new house dinner. I was looking out my tiny kitchen window when a rusty truck with tinted windows cruised past. The driver saw me and gestured something I hoped meant ‘hello,’ but considering the fingers and tongue involved probably meant a lot more than ‘hello.’ Hello, and get fucked, new girl. In that quiet moment, as I gnawed on a too-tough pizza crust, I realized with a sinking feeling that moving 700 miles away from home on little more than a whim was pretty foolish. Of course, admitting as much to my close-knit, conservative family back in SLC was not happening. I’d been so convinced that all I had to do was move west to one of the blue states to escape their clutches. They were equally convinced that I would go running back to the protective embrace of mommy and daddy – even though Mommy and Daddy couldn’t stand that their little girl had shaved her head and begun dating other girls as teen and showed no signs of slowing down now that she was pushing 30. Surely it was just a phase, after all. So here I was. 700 miles from home. Alone in a two-bedroom ranch style house in east Medford, Oregon, looking out my kitchen window at the suburban neighborhood I would call home for the foreseeable future. It was blistering hot out, and a chocking haze was settling into the valley from a nearby fire. In the distance sirens warbled. This was a mistake. In that moment I had no idea how big a mistake it was, but I was about to get a lesson I wouldn’t soon forget. I finished off a few more slices of the pizza – it wasn’t the best pie I’d ever had, but it also wasn’t the worst – and settled in on the couch with my laptop to watch some old SNL skits on YouTube. It was my go-to bedtime routine. In the middle of a marathon of The Californians, just as I was beginning to nod off, there was a light tapping at the front door. I started awake. Had I locked the door? I pushed the laptop onto the couch and stood up, the strangeness of my new home hitting me hard in this suggestible half-awake state. The tapping continued. Tiptoeing to the door, I realized once I got there that it had no keyhole to look out of. Shit. I moved to the bay window to see if I could get a look at the late night visitor. What time was it, anyway? I poked at my fitbit – it was after 11pm. Too late for anyone I didn’t know to be visiting – and I didn’t know anyone here. I looked out the window at the porch. The porch light was on (thank god), but there was nothing there. The tapping continued. Then I realized that there was something there – but whoever (or whatever) it was, they stood so close to the front door that I could only just see the edge of their outline when awkwardly craning my neck and pressing my cheek to the window. They didn’t shift away. Dammit. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, or a damn werewolf for that matter. Whoever it was, they were quite tall. Then I heard a voice behind the door. It was muffled, but it sounded like a woman’s voice. I shot back to the door. “Hello? What do you want?” I sure as hell wasn’t going to open up, but if they needed help maybe I could make a phone call. The voice responded, but it was indecipherable. “Do you need help?” The tapping continued. “Hey. If you need help, I can call 9-11, but I don’t know you.” The muffled voice spoke again. I almost spoke back, but something stopped me. The voice was different than before. Lower. Was it the same voice? “Can you move away from the door, please?” The tapping strengthened, became a steady knock. Whoever it was wasn’t giving up. “I think you have my place confused with someone else!” Obviously, they had me confused with someone else. But my shouting didn’t seem to phase them – the knocking continued. I moved back to the window again. Maybe I could get a look this time. Pressing my cheek to the cool glass, all I could see on the porch were a few moths circling the light and a pool of yellow spilling over the grass in the front yard, turning it a sickly yellow. Or maybe that was the persistent drought. It was hard to say. Twisting my neck, I again caught a glimpse of my visitor. They were still pressed up close to the door. Only their back and shoulders were clearly visible, and they appeared to be wearing all black. I slid back, hoping to see more, and that’s when they turned and looked my direction. I caught myself staring into a pair of coal black eyes peering out of a stark white face that was longer and thinner than any face I’d ever seen. I gasped and jerked away from the window. It had seen me. Whatever it was. It knew I – me – was in here. The knocking came more powerfully now, and the voice rose again, deep and gravelly. I still couldn’t understand what it was saying, but one word became clear: Jenny. Jenny. That’s my name. Scrambling past the couch, I ran back to my room and began pulling boxes out of the sizable bedroom closet. Living alone for years as a gay woman in a red state had taught me the unfortunate necessity of being armed and ready. I pulled my gun out of hiding, slid a few bullets into the chamber and unlocked the safety. No way was I dealing with the freaking boogeyman without my trusty Dorothy. Stomping toward the front door, I yelled at the top of my lungs. “Motherf***er, you better piss off before I blow a hole in the damn door!” Something slammed hard against the door, hard enough to shake it in the frame. I cocked the gun and aimed. “I’m gonna blow a hole straight through you!” The door rattled again as something large and heavy hit it, and a blood-curdling howl erupted on the other side. I screamed, lifted the gun, and fired. I have never fired a gun inside a house before. I was not prepared for the explosive pop that left my ears ringing and my hands tingling. The gun was hot in my hands – so hot I dropped it to the ground. I climbed behind the couch and waited. All was quiet. Whoever it was – whatever it was – had stopped knocking. With my ears still ringing, I snuck over to the bay window to have a peek. The porch was empty. Apart from the moths, the only thing I could see were the neighbor’s porch lights turning on one by one as the neighborhood I’d just joined looked out into the night, no doubt wondering about the gun blast so close by. I didn’t sleep that night. I curled around Dorothy and watched the dawn light climb down my bedroom wall until I decided it was time to actually open the front door and see what I could see. Which wasn’t much. As I stepped out onto my porch, one neighbor across the way stared me down with derision. An old man in a bathrobe, likely wondering what this weirdo was dong in his neighborhood. No long-faced, black-eyed vampire creature awaited me. Nothing at all out here – except when I turned around and looked at my door. The bullet hole was there – I’d have to fix that, obviously – and so was a bunch of writing. Most of it was indecipherable, in some kind of code I didn’t know. But right around where the spyhole would be if there were one was a phrase written in clear, plain English that chilled my blood. “Welcome to Dreadford, Jenny.” I looked around in shock. The elderly neighbor was still there. When I caught his eye, hoping he would offer something, help, comfort maybe, he only stared back with an icy gaze. Then he lifted one gnarled old finger to his throat and ran it slowly from one side to the other. Medford sucks, man.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n78i6/welcome_to_dreadford/

nosleep

Bonbonnibles

If you ever encounter an old music box, don’t open it

A few years ago, my grandmother left me a rather peculiar inheritance: an antique music box that had once belonged to a distant relative. The music box was a beautiful piece, adorned with intricately hand-carved woodwork and a captivating melody that seemed to echo throughout the house when played. At the time, I was just a curious teenager and didn't think much of it. However, what was about to happen would change my life forever. One night, while I was home alone, I decided to take a closer look at the music box. Curiosity consumed me, and I began to carefully turn the crank. The melody started playing, and I was enchanted by the beauty and simplicity of that vintage piece. However, as the melody repeated, I began to feel an odd sense of unease. It was as though the music was hypnotizing me, pulling me into a trance-like state. I couldn't stop turning the crank, as if something compelled me to keep going. It was then that I heard a whispering murmur coming from the music box. It was a soft, almost inaudible voice, but I could swear it was there. It sounded like a prayer or incantation in a language I didn't recognize. Goosebumps covered my skin as I tried to stop the music, but the crank kept turning, and the melody only grew more intense. Panic began to set in, and I knew I had to do something. I forcefully yanked the music box off the shelf and threw it to the floor. The music abruptly ceased, and the whispering voice disappeared. Thinking that it was all over, I breathed a sigh of relief and decided to get rid of the music box. I carried it down to the basement and placed it in a box filled with old items. I wanted nothing more to do with that thing. For a few days, everything seemed to return to normal. I was starting to convince myself that I had overreacted when things took a bizarre turn. At night, I began to hear the music from the music box coming from the basement. It became a constant presence, as if the music were alive, echoing through the walls of the house. Every time I attempted to go to the basement to investigate, a paralyzing sense of fear prevented me from descending the stairs. The music grew more insistent, as if it were calling out to me. One day, unable to bear it any longer, I made a drastic decision. I went to the basement with a hammer in hand, and as I approached the music box, something strange happened. The melody started playing softer, and the box's lid opened on its own, revealing a dark and empty interior. I swung the hammer, ready to destroy the thing once and for all, but the whispering voice returned, louder and clearer than ever. "Don't do it," it said, and a sense of absolute terror washed over me. I was overtaken by a force I couldn't resist, and I dropped the hammer. The music box snapped shut with a click, and the melody became even louder, as if celebrating its victory. Now, I am trapped in my own home, listening to the melody from the music box play incessantly. It whispers dark secrets and promises a terrible fate. I am writing this as a warning to anyone who comes across an old music box: do not touch it, do not open it, do not let it enter your life. It is a cursed melody box, and I am its eternal victim.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n4urf/if_you_ever_encounter_an_old_music_box_dont_open/

nosleep

Salty_Handle6671

I naively stumbled upon some cultish rabbit hole, Part 3 of 3

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16la9g8/i_naively_stumbled_upon_some_cultish_rabbit_hole/) [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mbx0q/i_naively_stumbled_upon_some_cultish_rabbit_hole/) ​ I was starting to think I was a follower. Though, I still took the gun with me in my back pocket. I walked down to a corner store, where he picked me up in a small blue Elantra that looked like it had some age to it. As he drove, I told him again that I was unsure if I could trust this, and so he would reassure me that this was safe, that I did not have to join the community or anything like it, but merely be acquainted with them to understand their goals - and potentially get some bucks for it as well. Some money that I really knew I needed. Desperation was chewing at me. He said that he no longer lived under there - that he was able to afford a cheap apartment on the edge of town, get himself a job, etc. Interesting how a guy from Glenview going to art school fell that hard. We had arrived a little past 6. We got out of the car in a nearby parking lot, then walked down to approach an overpass. It was strangely silent in a colossally eerie way. This environment felt strange for someone like me. I was a square peg, if you will. There were multiple tarps tied together and strung out from one end of the overpass to the other, and a group of people huddled up by a small bonfire, perhaps around seven or eight. He assured me not to worry, but I couldn’t help it. This was exactly the kind of situation my parents would warn me about in my youth - don’t get involved with these kinds of people, these are bad people, stay away from these people, and such things. And here I was. Lance introduced me to them, one woman smiled and nodded at me, another young man smirked at me, but most remained silent and indifferent. He asked them, “Where’s Corey?” Someone said, “Back there,” and pointed to the tall tarp border. Lance urged me onwards and opened a flap of the tarp for me to walk through. I did so hesitantly and expectantly (of nothing in particular), and found myself in a darker space with a tarp hanging overhead, and the entirety of the area lit up by some LED lanterns spaced out across the ground. It was a room, essentially. Sitting in a rocking chair to the left was a man who I learned was Corey when Lance addressed him. Lance introduced me to him. Corey then said, “I think I already know who you are. I've seen you around.” Where? He asks of the office that burned down - did I work there, and I answered that I did. My suspicions dug further, and felt justified from what I had asked myself before. But I did not let them out. He expressed his sorrow and pity, that of which I externally accepted. He told me that he had something that would explain the entirety of the situation - and took us to this old, rickety dresser near one end of the room, close to a clump of thin, tightly spaced beds and sleeping bags on the ground. He opened a drawer and dug for some extremely uncomfortable seconds before producing a square book, which he handed to me. It was large, in a plastic sleeve, and with nothing on the front cover, just cardboard. How I wanted to run out of here and never return right about then. I had no idea what I was even getting myself into, let alone what I was already in. I looked back at him, and saw an expectant gaze. He told me to read it, I could sit in his chair if I liked. He then subtly but firmly grabbed Lance’s arm and they walked out of the room through the same entrance we came in from. This was my only chance at an explanation. The chair smelled like fish as I sat. I opened the book and saw no words. There were only pictures. They were simply just assorted images of nature. I saw mainly trees and birds of beauty, and not much was to suggest a sinister undertone other than the lack of human presence. I didn’t understand what this could have explained. The last image differed greatly, and certainly meant more than any other. It was a picture of a clown wearing black, white and red makeup, sitting cross legged on a bench with a background that was surrounded by trees, and an opening in them that had me see something that partially confirmed what I had believed. ***It was my office building***. The picture had been deliberately framed so that in that exact gap in the foliage, you could see the entry, and even a bit of the donut shop beside it. I shut the book and then flipped it over. The book’s back cover was black, with a simple image of a $100 bill on it. Franklin's stare made me uneasy to a further extent. I heard a scuffle outside and a loud clatter of steel. I quickly retrieved my cell phone and instantly called 911. I quickly had to explain my rough location and told them to hurry, then hung up. That would have likely alarmed them enough, and would give me enough time to get out of there, since I could not have explained this entire thing very briefly. To my right, I saw as the man introduced to me as Corey walked into the room. He would ask me what I thought about the book. I could only be blunt. “Who the fuck are you?” He tried to calm me down, shushing, yet I got up and tensed myself. I repeated my question. He stopped pacing towards me and things became deathly silent apart from the few cars overhead and beside us. Those outside were not making any sound from what I could hear. And then.. he just started crying. He looked at the ground and wept like a child. I now did not know what to make of this sudden emotional outburst of his. As he cried, he reached into his back pocket (and I slowly reached for mine), and produced a large leather wallet (my reach was abandoned). He then hurriedly pulled out numerous $100 bills and tried to hand them to me. I estimated the wad as a few thousand. “This’ll cover you. We’re so sorry. Don’t be alert.” You motherfucker. I pulled out my Wesson and pointed it directly at him. He recoiled himself in fear, yet the safety remained on and I had no actual willingness to shoot. Within, the brevity of this situation was caving my mind in. He then dropped the money on the ground and ran out in a frantic hurry. I gazed down at it with reluctance. It wasn't long before my qualms gave in, I quickly and regrettably scooped up the money, then scurried to find an exit on the other side of the tarp. I ran for some time alongside the highway, cramping and continuing. Finally, I only looked back when the tarps were far away from me. They were already ablaze. The police would later ask me for my story, to which I gave them the details, and the only names I could give them were Lance’s, and Corey’s (alleged) first name. They never got back to me. I tried calling Lance a few days later, and instead was met with a message that the number was no longer in service. I am recounting this story a long while after this has happened. This was years ago, I no longer live in the Chicago area. The city was dragging me down, and I had to escape from it at some point, further desiring to after these strange events. Some of it still remains a mystery to me. I have spent hours on end thinking about it. Now a man’s what I may have been fearing, but I question the authenticity of my fear in a combative nature with everything else. Who’s to say mankind isn’t really the scary part? Either way, my guard has matured. But a man can still be fucking scary. This story might have some form of "ending", I suppose. As in, it could be considered an "ending" for now. But I would like to provide one last personal anecdote that may suggest otherwise. Late at night in my new abode, I retire for a good night’s sleep, that of which I have only been achieving with the help of deep breaths, benzodiazepines and a good cry every now and then. I still wake up very occasionally, and one night in particular I remember distinctly. It occurred only last week, and sort of inspired me to share this story with all of you. I woke up sleeping on my side, from some strange fever dream I had. My eyes met the window, where outside I could see a silhouette. My mind came to and slowly recognized it. The shadow was wearing some kind of hat, looking like a pork pie, and I could not make out any other features. I had some concern for a moment. Then, still remaining in my exact position, maintained a harsh glare at it, like I was interrogating it. It didn’t move. I smiled and went back to sleep.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nak3a/i_naively_stumbled_upon_some_cultish_rabbit_hole/

nosleep

Purple-Blue-Etc

Behind Black Doors It Hungers

If you live near a beachside and find a dark obsidian door contact me immediately and please, *stay away from it!* Two weeks ago today my girlfriend Samantha and I came to visit her college friend in San Diego for a few days. We were both very excited at the opportunity; I’m originally from Tennessee and I’ve always wanted to see the Pacific Ocean, while Sammy is from New York. On our last day here while I was searching for cool things to do in San Diego a result piqued my interest: the nudist beach. Sammy was down, so the day before we flew out we grabbed our swimsuits (even though we wouldn’t find much need for them) and drove to the spot. The area is called Black’s Beach which lays about a hundred feet below limestone cliffs, a fall no man could survive. Sammy and I parked our car and went down a long and winding set of wooden steps. The wood was so indented and worn that one wrong step and I’d find myself at the bottom of the cliffs in a second. Once down below we came face to face with men and women of all ages naked and unabashed so we stripped awkwardly to fit in. I’ll always remember her giggles from the embarrassment, how her nipples perked at the brush of the winds and her hair tailed behind her. With our clothes in our backpacks we immediately dove into the water. Nothing can compare to that feeling of entering the ocean waves in the nude! It is an immediate embrace from a being that is indifferent to your existence and wellbeing. But here we’re allowed to exist without a concept of guilt, the right to present yourself in your true essence without shame or judgment. Sammy’s smile reflecting the setting sun back at me, I knew then the truest feeling of love. We decided to walk the beach and see the stretch of the bay. It was a sight to see: people taking in the sun, others riding the ocean waves on their boards, and paragliders riding the high winds above adding dashes or greens, pinks and yellows to the skies above. It was in that moment observing the paragliders when something out of place caught my attention. High in the cliffside, rising below a cascade of boulders and sand appeared what seemed like a black door carved deep into the limestone. I pointed this oddity to Sammy and without a second thought, I found myself walking to the base of the door in the cliffside to get a better view. “Where are you going?” said Samantha in response, walking over next to me. “I want to check it out,” I replied as I was already putting my clothes and shoes back on. Back in Tennessee I was an avid spelunker with my father because both of us hace always been interested in the secrets kept deep in the bowels of the mountains. I've sought out things that are out of place, are beyond human comprehension and quite simply, shouldn’t exist. With this being my last day in San Diego I wanted to at least check this mysterious door out. Maybe it led somewhere? “I’m not sure about this babe, let’s just keep walking.” She grabbed my arm as I finished tying my shoelaces. I could see a look of concern on her face but could feel her understanding my attraction to the unknown. She knew how much exploration of the earth’s eccentricities meant to me. “It shouldn’t take long, you can wait for me here.” With that I started to climb, watching my step as I slowly made my way up. The closer I got to the door the more I noticed it was more than what I expected to find. Before me was a circular door that looked to be of obsidian, dark and jagged in the edges and shining the sun back to my eyes. A mural adorned the slate with rune-like shapes and lines on the edges, and images of faces and animals carved deep into the stone. Admiring the work that stood before me I finally noticed that where a doorknob would usually be was a small hole. Carefully I looked through the opening expecting a dead end, but it was to my shock to see a dimly lit corridor inside going down into the ground. Pressing my ear against the hole I could hear the wind howling through the opening, and among the whistling of the wing I heard it: at first it sounded like a wounded animal, but listening closer it appeared childlike in nature. Someone was crying beyond this door. “Samantha, I think there’s a kid hurt in here!” Without hesitation I began to try and pry the door open. I pressed myself against the cold stone and it didn’t take much force before I fell through and onto the damp floor. Looking up I saw candles perched along crevices on the cave walls, and looking further down I could make out stairs going down and leading to a faint glow. Balanced within the sound of oceans behind me was the crying that now reverberated along the tunnel walls. I began helping myself to my feet when I felt a pair of hands pressing down on my shoulders. “Are you OK?” Turning around I saw Sammy. She had climbed up and was now standing behind me fully dressed with her hair up in a ponytail the way she would when she was either focused or anxious. Looking around with concerned eyes she asked, “what is this place?” “I don’t know,” I said while brushing sand off my ankles and shirt. “Down these stairs is where I heard crying. Come, we need to help them!” “I don’t feel good about this, shouldn’t we call the police?” I should have listened to her and turned around then and there. We began our descent carefully and slowly. The colors shifted from a dark gray of the stones to a reddish pink hue with dark crimson veins engraved within. Along the walls I noticed these shiny obsidian rocks sticking out of the walls, first a few sporadically but the deeper we went more and more rocks could be found on the ceiling, the floors, and the slick walls of the corridor. The deeper we went the wetter the walls became. The crying became louder and louder as Sammy and I delved deeper and deeper into the cliffside. Eventually we reached the bottom of the staircase and to our shock we found ourselves at a crossroads. Two different paths laid before us, with the crying reverberating through the cave. “Which way?” Sam asked, unsure of where to go. “Hmm,” I said to myself, listening through both corridors to see if I could pinpoint the direction of the cries. “I think it’s this way, but before we delve deeper,” I said as I took off my shirt, “I’ll leave this on the floor to find our way back.” With that we followed the rightmost corridor, and sure enough the cries grew louder. Moving deeper and deeper I could feel the air running thin and a thick musk haunting the air. The corridor walls were growing slicker and shinier the deeper we went into the belly of the beast. Yet the lights along the walls grew no dimmer with time and lit our way. We encountered several other crossways and each time Sammy and I took turns leaving clothes behind to find our way out: her shirt, then my pants, then her sweater. It was after several turns that we found ourselves at another obsidian door similar to the one at the entrance. However this time the runes and the scribbles shone a bright blue turquoise. The sketches of animals and faces carved deep into the obsidian were glowing and fading in a smooth breathing motion, in and out, in and out. With Sammy standing behind me I pushed the door open. Sammy and I stepped into a small room with a few strobing lights emitting from light sources that seemed to be within the walls themselves. The floor was wet and slippery with a clear, viscous liquid that was dripping down from the walls. At the very end of the room sat a small, pale child with frizzled hair, facing away from us and towards the far end of the room. The child had been stripped of clothes and her back was covered with crimson gashes engraved deep within her skin. She was not tied to the wall or chained and was visibly shaking. We had found the source of the crying. Sammy gasped at the sight while I felt sick to my stomach, gagging at the pungent smell of feces, piss and whatever other sick shit was in the room. Sammy was the one who slowly approached the child, asking for its name and how it got here. Every step she took through the sludge that coated the floor echoed against the walls and out the entryway. I stood where I was and chose to analyze the room further. This was not like any other cave system I have ever been in. Something was not right. Taking out my cellphone I turned on the light feature and scanned our surroundings further. I couldn’t help but notice that the walls appeared to be moving ever so slightly, pulsing and contracting with venous lines on the surface. Then I turned my attention to the child, who continued crying and shaking without paying attention to the two strangers who had rushed into her holding cell. That is when I noticed it: the child’s legs appeared to be fused to the floor with a large throbbing veins running from the floor up the legs and dissipating throughout her thighs. I was staring at this *thing* in horror when I noticed that in above the child, sticking out of the fleshy ceiling a creature began to manifest itself before us. At first it was a small fleshy lump with obsidian rocks protruding a few feet above the child’s head. Slowly multiple appendages began to pulsate and grow from multiple sides of the growth; these varied in thick and thin from all over its body and appeared tentacular in nature. With every growth more and more viscous liquid spouted from the being onto the floor. The flesh at the drooping end of the creature began to part, and a gaping orifice with white pearly rows of teeth began to glister with the shaking of my flashlight. Above the creature’s maw the obsidian pebbles began to shift in place and that’s when it clicked: *these are not rocks, they are eyes.* My thoughts were rushing in a flurry of fear and disgust, trying to comprehend what Sammy and I had just walked into. *This must be a dream, there’s no way this is real, this CANNOT be real!* I wanted to tell Sammy who was kneeling next to the child facade to look up, to run! But I could do nothing but see the creature’s gaping maw tower over us and its arms creeping along the floor, ready to pounce on its unsuspecting victim: Samantha. The next few seconds happened so fast. The creature emitted a high-pitched screech resembling a child and quickly wrapped its tentacles around unsuspecting Sammy’s legs, lifting her in a swift motion. I saw Sammy’s face quickly change from concern for the child to intrinsic fear and let out a cry of pure fear and agony. She thrashed around trying to be let loose but her screams and movement were quickly subdued when the creature wrapped its remaining tentacles around Sammy’s body and constricted her. The sound of breaking bones followed, echoing around me. Blood and vile spewed from Sammy’s mouth and nose, her eyes now bloodshot frantically moving left, right, up, down, and finally settling on me. With my girlfriend in hand the creature moved in to finish the deed: it positioned itself above Sammy and with its sharp sets of teeth began to consume her, feet first and slowly making its way down her body. The sound of cracking and breaking of what I assume were Sammy’s bones was deafening against the low sounds of a child’s scream that left me in shell shock. Blood spewed from the creature’s orifice as it tore at my girlfriend’s body and she could do nothing but look at me and mouth what I assumed to be her last plea to me: *run. Run. RUN.* That’s when I finally felt the fear loosen its grip on my legs. Quickly I turned and dashed out the glowing obsidian door, dropping my phone in the process and rushing out. Once out the room the lights that once illuminated the corridor had gone out, leaving me in pitch darkness. But without thinking twice I pushed forward, away from whatever being was still tearing at Sammy's body giving me a shot at escaping. Coming to the first intersection I could feel a rush of dread run over me, *which way is the way out?!* Feeling my way along the darkness I felt a small bundle of clothes at my feet pointing the way we came in: Sammy's sweater! I grabbed her sweater and rushed down the leftmost corridor but I could sense the passage was much narrower than before. Where there was plenty of space for both Sammy and I to walk side by side now felt narrower, the walls softer and slimier. *No time to think*, I reminded myself and kept going. When I reached the second intersection a loud, ear-piercing *SCREECH*! echoed down the halls, but this time I could make out some words: "Must . . . find him . . . him . . ." I could feel my stomach churning and my head spinning at the sound of the words when I reached for my pants tied on the floor pointing me to a narrow crevice in the wall. *There's no way I will make it through this with my backpack!* In a quick motion I tossed my pack aside, took a deep breath and sighed. I felt my way into the narrow passage and moved fast. The toughest part was the obsidian rocks along the walls that were now pressing against my skin and cutting deep into the tissue. Better than being eaten alive, I thought while fighting back Sammy’s faith. I reached the final intersection and found Sammy's shirt pointing me towards a narrow crawl space. *This is BULLSHIT!* Without hesitation I got on my knees. I was positioning myself to enter the hole, something in the caves behind me let out a low whisper, "where . . . are you . . . where . . . where . . ." *FUCK, fuck fuck fuck, it's coming*. I pushed myself into the crawlspace and moved fast despite the obsidian rocks piercing into my skin. The rush of adrenaline masked the pains of the cuts and slits around my body. The crawlspace kept narrowing around me and I could feel the walls squeezing against my body, forcing me to lay on my belly and pull myself through the rocks. I used the obsidian rocks to pull myself through the crawlspace when I felt another tight squeeze and a release. The walls were closing in around me, squeezing me tighter with each contraction. Panic began to set in, but with the rush of adrenaline came the drive for survival. Memories of my time deep in the Appalachian mountains flooded my brain, images of narrow pathways and tips to navigate the unforgiving innards of the Earth. I remembered my father's advice when I once got stuck moving between two large boulders, his voice soothing a crying child: "breathe, and flow." With each squeeze the obsidian rocks dove into my skin, crunching and tightening around me before expanding ready to contract again. *This is my chance,* I said to myself and when I felt the walls detract I scrambled through and out the other side. I flopped out of the crawlspace and onto a solid surface, bloodied and in tears. *Almost there, I'm almost there*, I thought as I slowly rolled over and sat up when I got a scent of saltwater. I was now at the bottom of the staircase and above me, the small light from the peephole in the door above the cliffs teased me. The way out! I stood up and looked back at the hole I had fought my way through. The walls were still constricting smaller and smaller and the hole was about to close when it stopped. From the hole moans and cries could be heard, when a hand popped out and reached for me. I fell back at the sight, and watched in horror as the girl from the room slowly emerged from the crawlspace. Where once I had been unable to see her face I now saw who this being was: her skin was gray and the veins that coated her body glowed with a deep turquoise color like the door to the room. But her face was the worst: the eyes had been gouged out and were sunken in, replaced with a deep blue glisten. Where there would be a nose and mouth was a large opening lined with shiny teeth leading deep into an abyss. I could feel my mind being driven to madness by the creature reaching for me when I let out a shriek of horror. I scrambled up the slippery stairs with the girl's gaze and her maw locked in my mind. The walls knew exactly what was going on. Halfway up I felt the floor below my feet shift below my feet causing me to lose balance and slide back down a few steps towards the girl. She had now emerged and was crawling up towards me on all fours. The obsidian rocks around me were now shifting around, spiraling, fighting to sabotage my way out of the creature’s grasps. I could see above me a small beam of light being emitted from the door’s opening. It taunts me with freedom and of what I’ve lost in the room behind. When I finally reached the top of the stairs I threw myself against the door to no avail. The door was shut and was not ready to let me out. I could hear the creature’s screeching behind me growing louder and louder, crying out for its meal that would not be allowed to leave. I kept pushing, thrashing, until I felt a strong grip on my hair and someone whispered over my shoulder, "YOU." I was turned around and confronted with two deep blue lights. Her eyes were now glowing brighter than ever before and lighting the bloody insides of her eye sockets. I pressed myself back against the door, *it's over.* With one hand grabbing onto my hair and the other squeezing my neck, she approached me mouth wide open: I was in the direct path of her maw. I could feel my consciousness giving out when I felt the door against my back finally gave in and swung open. I felt myself tumbling into the open sunlight, hitting the rocks that lead up to the door, and landing on the hot sand before losing consciousness. The next thing I remember was waking up to a naked man standing above me. “Hey bro are you OK? Do you need any help?” He helped me sit up in place and while he was asking me what had happened I couldn’t help but look up at the cliffside to find nothing. The door that was once there, with cryptic writing where me and my Sammy entered and only I escaped, had disappeared. In its place was just a crack into the limestone. I stared up at where the door used to be until several beachgoers helped me to my feet and back up to my car. \~\~\~ I don’t know what it is that I went through two weeks ago. Part of me doesn’t want to believe what happened behind that cryptic obsidian door, but Samantha is nowhere to be found. Logic is clearly beyond this explanation and I know that I’ve encountered something dark, a demon perhaps, or maybe something beyond our world. I’ve lost the love of my life because of my own stupidity. I should have listened to her, but I didn’t and she died. I’ve already endured too many sleepless nights and cried until my eyes run dry, and with that my new purpose became clear: to find this thing and any others like it, and kill them before they hurt anyone else. In that room I dropped my cell phone and was able to track it to another beach town, this time up in the Oregon area. At the time of writing this my phone has only lost a few points of battery life, which means I might be able to track its movements for a little while longer. I will update everyone as my new journey continues and if you stop hearing from me for longer than a month, assume I’ve failed to kill the creature and suffered Samantha’s fate. I cannot live with the guilt of leading my girlfriend straight into a monster's maw and will stop at nothing until either that creature is dead or I am.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n3lyh/behind_black_doors_it_hungers/

nosleep

Atoyatl

Stories from a Half Hung Drifter

Sorry this post has taken so long to post. Me and K have been going through a lot, but I don't want to talk about it now, I intend to keep up with the chronology as I stated before; I will be soon though... ​ Have you ever heard of The Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau. Yes Laveau, L A V E A U for those who've never been to the south just search it up. I wish to welcome myself back, I let K do the last post, I didn't expect what I read... anyways I've been contemplating about posting this story, I want to keep everything true and explain each big story. On our way down to Louisiana we found a few possessions and demonic attachments that were solved within a day by calling up a few priests that would get ahold of the nearest exorcists to our location where they'd perform the rites of exorcism. Like I said, each of those experiences were tiny so I've decided not to post them. This story however I didn't want to post, I wanted to post all of my successful missions... cases... whatever you want to call it. However K told me to be honest with you all. Maybe one day I'll explain the smaller stories between my last post and this, I don't know. With that said I'll begin with what occurred within the French quarter. ​ We arrived in Louisiana and decided to stop in a hotel for once. Unlike the usual we found something let's settle down for a bit and deal with it, instead K got a call from another Agent, one of an equivalent rank as Sword. K had picked up the phone "Hello?" By the way she answered it was clear she didn't have the number saved, she put it on speaker and I could hear the voice through the line begin to speak, "Hey, is this K?" She answered, "This is. Whom am I speaking to?" The man began again "This is Joseph Rivera, you can call me Joe, I'm in the same position as Sword, he told me you and Masters were going south and I saw the tracker placed on your persons that y'all are currently in my jurisdiction now. Sword works the Northeastern Jurisdiction, I run the Midwest Jurisdiction. I've had report after report of above average anomalous sightings in New Orleans, I've already got a hotel for y'all, the room you'll be staying in is yours until the assignment is completed. I'll send you the location, just find out what is going on. Also give my contact to Masters, Joe out." The way he spoke was far more serious than Sword, it honestly made me a little nervous. Was he scared... should I have been more scared than I was, or was that just how he was? When we arrived at the hotel we received the key to the room and were instructed where to go, tenth story room 1005. When we walked in and was amazed we had a suite, I then looked and found a mini fridge and bar that had notes on each stating anything we want will be paid by the company renting the room for us. I'm not proud to say this but I read the note aloud when K asked what I was looking at, she began to hop in place and I decided to join her, she popped open a nice bottle of champagne and we began to drink. By the end of the night we had drunk a couple of bottles of champagne and I opened a bottle of scotch. The next morning we were startled awake by a banging on the door. I got up and partially opened the door, I left the chain on it so it caught. Behind it my pistol was aimed towards center mass. He asked "Are you Travis? is K in?" I said "Maybe, who are you?". "Joe asked me to come here too, I'm in the room next to y'all, my name is Rick, I was instructed to assist y'all." I closed the door, disconnected the chain and reopened the door to let him in, when he entered he immediately covered his eyes and asked K to put on some clothes; it's something she's been doing since I met her, if we're not sleeping in my car she'll sleep in only a bra and panties. While he was covering his eyes I pulled out my phone and scanned the massive QR code patch on the back of his ratty black denim jacket. It immediately hopped onto youtube playing a rick roll... this SOB got me. He turned around, slapped me and said "Be ready in 10 minutes, I'm grabbing my weapons I'll be right back", when I said he slapped me I'm not talking about a light smack to the back, I'm talking about an actual slap to the fucking face. I looked at K after he left, she was trying to hide a snorting laugh, I was kinda pissed off. "This bitch", is all I could get out before grabbing my pistol, I chose to use my Security-9 instead of my Glock 42, more bullets per mag and more piercing power may be helpful. I then grabbed a knife and put it into my boot. As I came back upright There was a knock at the door. I looked at K to see that she was dressed, so I opened the door and Rick came in asking if we were ready to go. I really didn't think too well of him, he's clearly cocky and sees himself as the hero of his own story. Anyways I ask if he's gonna be driving with us following or if he wants us to ride in his car, he looks me dead in the eyes and says "I don't have a car, I ride trains, and walk. Sometimes I'll hitch hike. Like I have a license, but no car." So the three of us hopped into my car K and Rick bickering the entire way down about who should sit in the front. When we get to the car I get in and start it before rolling the window down and yelling "K get in the front Rick get in the back, y'all have 5 seconds or I'm driving off without you." They quickly hopped in as I began to drive with Rick fighting his way inside the moving car. We went to the nearest Waffle House to eat, when arriving we discuss what's been going on, there's been a spike of sighting of the voodoo queen, the dead returning to life and walking the world of man and flying pigs... yes flying pigs; I was, and still am, caught off guard on the fact that there were flying pigs. There was also a sighting of a man in strange clothes at the scene each time. Rick had noted the most commented on feature of his clothes, a black trench coat with a hood and some type of symbols that covered the entire backside, right on cue we saw a man wearing the jacket Rick was just speaking about; Both he and K went running out after him sticking me with the bill. By the time I finished eating and stepped outside, I could see their tracks.I followed them, eventually I found the two stumbling back on the same route they went, and my god did they stink, Rick looked awful with cuts all over his face and arms. I asked what happened, K explained "We were chasing the man when he went into the wooded area out back, we went in after the man when he said something, it sounded like latin. Afterwards a bunch of skunks appeared as if from thin air spraying us and they mauled Rick pretty good. While they were Attacking him I followed the tracks left by the man we were chasing, but his tracks vanished. I heard a few shots fired so I ran back to see Rick killed the skunks. We decided to head back after I told Rick that the man's tracks disappeared." I tried to stifle a laugh as I told them to follow me back to the car. Rick was happy that I let him sit in the front seat, once seated K handed me my first aid kit. I patched up Rick and we went back to the hotel. While we were all in mine and K's room she was google dorking to get into the camera's in the area I sat down with Rick and asked "What'd you do before you got this job?", he began speaking "I was a cop, I got fired for messing up two different stings. Somehow I confused two different drug dealers on where to go. I came to the spot we set up to buy the load; when I arrived both me and the dealer, or who I thought was the dealer, stepped out. He said I've got the money, I responded no I've got the money, I again said no I have the money, and responded no you'll have the money when I get the drugs, he said no I'll have the drugs when I get you the money. I arrested him anyway and called my sergeant. I then got scolded pretty good before being instructed to return to the station with the criminal. It turns out the other officer that was performing the sting got injured arresting the other dealer. What occurred was basically what happened to me but with the drugs. When I went to my sergeants office he then chewed me out and then I had to go to our captain to get cussed out before he ended up firing me. Joe found me after I left and offered me a job within the BPI" This S.O.B. is stupid as hell, anyways. "The BPI?" I asked... Rick looked at me and said "Wait you didn't know who you were working for? The BPI is the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation. You, Kendra, and I are a part of the Hunter unit. You have the Hunter unit where we have to kill anything that makes itself known by performing vile acts. Usually a monster won't make itself known unless it's killing. You also have the Research unit who... well the name explains it all. You have the politics unit which makes treaties with monsters, and the containment unit who works directly with both the politics and research units. You also have the worker unit which runs the areas we have set up such as the research labs and monster towns. There's also the special units which you will not know anything about unless you join in and finally you have the security unit. Whenever the organization wants to do something the main units head members, the highest ranks of each unit, have to vote, whichever vote is the highest is what the bureau would do. The main units being the hunter, research, politics, worker, and security units." K stopped what she was doing to join into the conversation, "Yea I remember Sword telling me about that, I had been in for almost a year before they tested my threat grade, I'm a B9." Rick solemnly spoke back, "I'm a D1." They then looked at me and I said "I don't know what grade I am, I've never been graded." That's when Rick began speaking again, "The grades go as follows you have the standard grades being A through E, the closer to A the bigger of a threat you are to whatever or whoever your going after, the number is how close you are to a next grade, so a E1 is almost as big of a threat as a D9. You then have special grades which surpass A1, special grades go as follows, Special Grade 1 through 9, Special grade 9, or just SG9 as most commonly said, is Just barely considered more of a threat or equal to the threat of an A1. The only way to become a SG is to either be considered to be able to obliterate an A1 or to be entered into the special units. They grade you off of physical fitness, your ancestry, blessing, or if you have connections to some deity or entity, divine or demonic and anything between." Before anything else could be said an alarm on K's laptop went off and she exclaimed "OH SHIT, ALREADY!?!? The man has been sighted, he's in a voodoo shop about 3 miles down the road. Y'all ready or what?" Rick was the first one up, "I've got a score to settle..." So we all go back to the car and Rick wouldn't accept being a backseater, oh no no no. He evolved into a passenger princess. We drove down to where he was at, when he saw us he ran, K told us to chase him and that she'll catch up. Rick and I hopped out and began chasing after him as she drove away. We were on foot now. We ran for a while before finding him hopping into a kayak. I looked at my phone and found a kayak vender, we ran to him and paid for a rental kayak and texted K that we would be chasing him on the water. We rowed and rowed following him to a little hill above a dark swamp. By that point night had fallen and we were left in the dark. The next thing I had was a wet thwak sound. I turned to see Rick on the ground and the man looking at me, I shiver ran down my spine. "You've got to be fucking kidding..." I didn't get to finish speaking before I got hit, I tried pulling my weapon out before that, but it snagged on my shirt. ​ When I awoke everything was black; I was shaking, I'm not sure if it was fear or the fact it was cold... probably a bit of both. I could hear steps coming to me, but what was it. I tried moving but at that moment I realized I was tied up, when I went to speak I could feel the duct tap covering my mouth. The next thing I knew I got hit pretty hard, then again, and again. Shit I thought, "He's gonna beat me to death isn't he, he wants to do it himself, he's gonna enjoy each punch. This sadistic fucker was gonna drag this shit out." While being wailed on, a blindfold fell off and I could see him, as I figured it was the man me and Rick were racing after. I asked why are you doing this, he smiled a wicked grin before saying "Well my boss is paying me to capture the spirit of someone specific." When I went to speak he backhanded me and continued, "I'm speaking right now. DO NOT INTERRUPT! Now as I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, I've been working on a massive set of spells to revive it, I won't tell you who. All you need to know is that I will get what my boss wants. Now, with that said, why is someone connected to death chasing after me? What is it? Do you want my soul, or maybe you owe him a favor... You better think of a good way to explain it to me when I get back." Before leaving he said something along the lines of "Crimen enim sue memoria proteritorum referet et ant oculos micate." As he left I could see my past swirling around me. I could see the good and bad things I've done. I could see the lives of family and friends fade away in my hands. I could see those I've killed drop to the ground, while I could see others I just hurt or tortured. Eventually the man came back laughing before walking through the swirling memories. He grabbed me by the shoulders and got real close before saying "How's the past two days been? I can smell the shit in your pants, spells are quite tricky aren't they? You know what to do yet you cannot, terrifying isn't it." He then left before repeating the same spell again and it started over beginning again. I must admit he's right. In a normal case I'd drop back to break my chair and get up but I couldn't. Eventually I began to see things that were out of the norm, things I'd began to forget. My father having life threatening injury after injury yet surviving. Eventually the man came back and he spoke in an impressed voice "You've been here for over a week, I'm surprised you've survived this long. Now as I asked before, why are you following me!" Before I could answer K and rick busted in and I could see them through my swirling memories. Rick fired his weapon, one shot is all that was needed. The shot took two of his fingers and broke his concentration. Finally the spell had broke. Black smoke tunneled out and covered him before dissipating. He was gone. K came up to me, "You reek, let's get you to a shower. When we get back don't freak out either." I asked "Why?" She answered, "All of your hair is white." Rick and her cut me free before Rick handed me back my phone, now charged, and my knife and gun. As we walked to K told me, "Wait here with Rick, I'm going to go to a dollar general to get trash bags and get you some new clothes. As some baby wipes; you will not be sitting in the car all nasty like that." As she left I looked to Rick who was slowly pulling out a pack of cigarettes, "Yo can I bum one?" I asked, he handed me one while nodding. After he lit his he lit mine and we waited. ​ When K finally got back I went back inside before cleaning myself with the wipes and putting the new set of clothes on, she forgot my underwear. I then walked back out as clean as I could be freeballing in a new set of clothes. By the time we arrived at the hotel everything that happened between when me and Rick got dropped and when they picked me up. Anyways it was night when arriving and K and i went into our room and Rick went into his. I started my nasty laundry, and began showering. While in the shower the voice of the skeleton came back to me, "You really let him beat you? Get your payback." After I finished my shower I looked in the mirror and saw my white hair, by this point it was sitting right below my shoulders. I then stopped focusing on my hair, I saw the skeleton standing behind me. When I turned around he wasn't there. I went to bed but I just couldn't sleep, and when I did I woke up shortly after horrific nightmares of my past. For days we had no signs of the man and began stepping out to any witchcraft and psychic shops informing them that if this man is seen to call over to one of our three phones. Over that time I still couldn't sleep. It ended up being another two weeks before we got a call, I was finally going to get him back. We went to the woman who called us, a psychic, and she said we'd have to pay for a reading for any information she had. So I pulled out a 20 dollar bill and sat in the chair, she began moving her hands around a crystal ball and you could see the entire thing turn black. She looked puzzled before grabbing a deck of tarot cards, she shuffled them and placed down five cards of death, she then looked at her deck to see that they were all the cards of death. I stood before K sat, we asked the lady to retry, after shuffling her deck of cards she put out cards other than the card of death. Rick looked me in the eye's and said, "What in the actual fuck?" I shrugged, honestly shaken by the experience, before looking at the lady. She began "The man y'all spoke to me about has been meditating at the shrine of Marie Laveau and had been there for a few days, she then told us where we could find it. We drove to it to find the man there meditating. When I hopped out he opened his eyes and looked at me before saying he'll meet me at the Voodoo Queen's ritual grounds. He then vanished as he had the last time we saw him. I looked at K before asking, "Do you know who the Voodoo Queen is?" She shook her head no before a bystander who witnessed the event spoke up "You're at her shrine." "So do you know where the ritual grounds are?", I responded. The man gulped and told me how to get to them. The three of us got back into the car and went back to the Kayak rental shop, he asked where we were going, so we answered and he explained we would want weapons to go out there, "it's infested with large alligators. I can't in good conscience rent out a kayak to you if you're going there without a shotgun at least. Prove to me that you are and you'll be rented one." I headed outside and pulled a shotgun from my trunk, when I turned around I could see the dead alligators and bodies left in the swamp rising and coming out of the water, I loaded the shotgun as quick as possible and inserted my extra shells into the holder; as I was running back inside I could see that everyone inside was getting beginning to barricade the wall, they were tearing the shelves from the walls and stacking them up in front of the store's doors. As I entered I threw 100 bucks, the price to rent the kayak for the rest of the day, and I said "Shit he's doing something again, If I get him to leave the spell should go out. It did when he cast one on me." I opened the door before they slid the shelving back behind me as I walked out an alligator came towards, you could see its ribs exposed and maggots eating at the bad flesh. As it neared a place the tip of the shotgun right above its mouth before pulling the trigger blowing off its mouth. I then pushed the shelf holding three kayaks in front of the doors and took the top one. I ran to the water and dropped the kayak in before hopping in. As I seated myself I began rowing out into the water, I could see both zombified and normal alligators circling me. As I continued rowing they began to back away. When I arrived to the ritual grounds it was getting beginning to get dark. Not even a few steps in I puked a black, thick liquid. It felt like something had punched me directly on my stomach itself. After hurling I came upright I saw the man and exclaimed, "Hey Two-Fingers, what are you doing?" He turned to me with a puzzled look, "D- Did you just call me Two-Fingers?", After saying that he looked down to his two missing fingers before looking back and saying "You motherfucker". He then continued on with what he was doing. He finished carving into the ground something that looked like a magic symbol and he began chanting. The carving began to glow and you could see a partially transparent woman flying towards us. When she arrived I could see her getting pulled into a wooden box with a crystal and a gum gum ball covered in wax. That's when the flying pig hit the dude breaking his chanting; the glowing stopped and the woman who was getting sucked into the box was released. I yelled out to the man, "Bro get rid of that pig, why do you keep bringing him around, it's been spotted around you multiple times!" He turned to me before replying, "It's not mine, it has been following me since I got here." Weird... Before I could say anything else the spirit flew towards them through me, it knocked me to my ass. It honestly kinda hurt, I heard the man begin going off, "Shit, shit, shit, we're surrounded, This pig is annoying, and we have a pissed off Marie... got any ideas?" I stood up as Two-Fingers stepped behind me, back to back, we began fighting off everything coming after us. I pulled my pistol out and shot the wings off the pig. The zombified alligators went running to it. I saw a light as Two-Fingers brought his hands up and said something. "Heads up", I called out as the both of us dropped down. I continued, "Why are all of these things coming back from the dead?" "My spell brings the dead back until I get the one I'm going after. I need to complete it", responded Two-Fingers. I retorted, "Well can't you shut it down? I know when you left me that spell you did on me went out." "I need to get her, I need the money for my sister. I'll get enough for her treatment if I capture the spirit of the Voodoo Queen!" Was his comeback to what I had said before. At that he restarted the spell he had been chanting a moment ago. I took out my knife, pistol still in hand. I began shoot and remove the water filled human zombie heads. After I took out all of the human zombies I started blowing holes in the zombified alligators eating at the now dead pig. They all stopped, but I hadn't killed them all. I turned around to see Two-Fingers walking up to the wooden box... that son of a bitch went through with his spell. This time I was pissed, he could've quit the spell, maybe I should've told him about my work. I, however, doubt he would have listened. I walked up to him, no I ran up to him, I got into a stance to fight. "Really, you want to do this, we're done, I completed the spell, nothing else needs to happ-", I didn't let Two-Fingers finish before I decked him with a Jab. I leaned to my side before he threw a pathetic excuse of a punch, when I came upright I followed through with a hook, I did it again, and again, and again. I could feel each hook get heavier and heavier. Before I knew it I was no longer in control. I kept beating Him moving around to punch a rib, or a temple, the kidneys, when I hit him in the liver he dropped to the ground. I kicked him hard in the gut before stomping on his face. Each time he would try to pull his little black smoke disappearing trick I'd rip him out of the smoke before he could voodoo away. It felt as if someone else was controlling me... like someone had a controller to my body, it honestly kinda freaked me out to say the least. As I continued kicking the crap out of him I could see the day was beginning to set and a dark cloud began to form over where I was. I heard K’s voice call out to me, "Travis, what the hell are you doing?" When I turned I saw K, Rick and someone else. Rick out of the three of them was the one who I thought would be fine seeing the mess I left this man in. I was wrong even he had a clear gut wrenching reaction, I could hear K begin to yell once again, "What the fuck did you do? Why are your eyes purple, what the hell man." Before I could say anything an overcoming urge came over me and a voice I hadn't heard in a way spoke to me crackling and popping, "Let me..." Before I let it finished, I said, "Get out of my head, I am in control." K and Rick looked puzzled, but the third one walked up to me. "I'm Joe it's nice to finally meet, I need you to breathe and calm down", he said. After he spoke, I replied, "Wait why are you here, we didn't call you and nothing really needs to be done about this." "That's not why I'm here", he said "Look something you and K had called in has started a whole investigation. They're calling it Project Insect Adam; they want the three of you in it. Not only that they want you to get graded, Travis..., from what it looks like you're a special grade... I hope I'm wrong." That last sentence puzzled me, a shiver ran down my spine when I heard it. "Shit not this again", yelled K pointing at where the body of Two-Fingers had been, there was a dark smoke dissipating at that point. ​ When I turned back to Joe he shrugged, "So when do we get this party started?" I asked. I could feel myself grinning from ear to ear, I'm not sure if it was caused by fear or excitement but I could feel the adrenaline running through my veins as my grin grew. First Post: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15lzlf4/stories\_from\_a\_half\_hung\_drifter/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3 Previous Post: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/166cslj/stories\_from\_a\_half\_hung\_drifter\_metamorphosis/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/166cslj/stories_from_a_half_hung_drifter_metamorphosis/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16n0gva/stories_from_a_half_hung_drifter/

nosleep

Krusiphix

My Boyfriend and I Are so Much Alike, and I Found Out Why.

Did anyone ever mention the phrase: “Misery Loves Company” to you in conversation? Well that was the truth between My boyfriend and I. My boyfriend, Connor, and I met at our local park about 5 years ago. We both had been going through dark times in our lives, and had conveniently sat on the benches adjacent to each other near the giant oak tree in the middle of the park. I remember the sad look in his eyes as I approached him, His beautiful emerald eyes meeting my own. I remember his silky brown hair matching the same color and texture as mine, even our highlights matched in color. I sat next to him and started a bit of small talk, mostly about the local politics. Our soft conversation quickly became heated and full of laughter, turns out we shared a lot in common. I was an avid kayaker that traveled to different spots around the country, and turns out so was he. I had a beautiful silver GMC Hummer to drag my kayak trailer around. He ended up walking me back to my car in the nearby parking lot, and I noticed he had the same style car as mine. I didn’t see any problems when we found his car parked next to mine, in fact, I was overjoyed. Over the next 5 years we grew closer and closer, sharing exact interests. We moved into a small townhouse together about 2 years in, went shopping and decorated it to look like a fishing cabin, and adopted 2 beautiful german shepards. We were overjoyed to see our little home coming together. Connor brought up the idea of marriage at our 5 year anniversary. I wasn’t thrilled about the idea, seeing as wedding planning would affect my progress of getting my Ph.D in Marine Biology. He seemed happy with my response, as he was studying for his masters in Psychology and wanted to take his time. I don’t know why but his response caught my attention, something felt eerie about it, but nothing i could pinpoint. Over the next few days, I noticed more and more about Connor that perplexed me. His body shape matched mine, minus the womanly features, of course. His waistline was thin, small muscle lines extending from his navel to upper chest, his pelvic bones slightly pointed out from his skin. His arms lacked muscle and his hands were boney. I looked the same, mostly due to an eating disorder I was working my way out of. His feet were abnormally big for a normal human size, and his nails grew long and oddly sharp quicker than i’ve ever seen, which apart from his slightly taller stature was the only difference we had. His hair, cheeks, eyes and nose matched my own. I chocked this up to genetics being genetics in the past but now that I had a second look, everything seemed.. off. I brought this up to my sister over the phone, and requested that she talk to my mother. My mother and father are both scientists for a place called Vermilion Laboratories, and have been there since they were fresh out of university. I could sense a sudden hesitance in her voice at my request. “Uh, Celia, you should go see Mom in person.” She said, a small quake in her voice. “Why?” She cut me off. “JUST DO IT- it's for your own good!” I sighed. “Alright.” I grabbed my keys and pudged towards the front door. “Hey Honey.” I heard from the living room. Connor peeked his head out from the side wall. “Where are you going?” “My sister told me to go see my mom about something. Why?” I lifted my keys to set them into the lock, only for Connor to grab me by the wrist. I turned back, a wild look in his eyes greeting mine. “Don’t go!” He jolted, trying to snatch the keys from me. I wrestled my arm back from him. His nails dented into my skin, tearing away flesh as he stumbled back. I quivered in shock, three long open wounds had been torn into my arm, pouring blood into the cracks of the wood floor. Connor backed off in shock, his wild look shifting into panic. Without a second thought, I slammed my keys into the lock. I blacked out, the last thing i saw was Connor lunging at me, and the door flying open as I made my escape. My consciousness came back in my car at Vermillion Labs. I looked at my arm, the wounds were long and deep, i took a pocket knife and cut my shirt to use as a dressing for my wounds, then quickly made my way inside, Only to turn back and see Connor leaping out of his car at the end of the lot. I ran as fast as I could, Connor was right on my tail. “CELIAAAAAA!!!” His roar made my hair stand on edge. What the hell did I fall in love with!? Who the hell is this man?! Endless questions filled my mind as i ran down the seemingly endless halls. I made my way to the basement of the lab, hopping over the ledge that kept visitors from entering. I hit the first stair only to feel my ankle give away. I braced myself, each stair impact leaving bruises on my body. Connor’s voice was far away enough to lend me a bit of relief. The basement was pitch black, small flashing red buttons from the side walls punctured the darkness. I felt around, sliding my hands along the walls, coming to a switch at the edge of the room. I turned, only to see a red button turn its trajectory towards me. I felt a shiver go down my spine. The red flashing lights were not buttons.. They were eyes. I flicked on the lights to see Connor, not just one, but tons. All adorned in white jumpsuits, different numbers on each one. I froze in place. A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders, a light breath against my ear. “I was made for you, Celia.. don’t you see?” Update: It's been a month since that post.. The Connors made a unified decision that I would never leave this place. I wish I could run away but.. sadly I can’t.. They just finished eating my legs a couple days ago. I was able to drag myself to a computer to tell you all this story. I learned my lesson the hard way, so please, all of you… if you meet a person who looks exactly like you and shares all your interests. Runnejwjddmsmaikz z wjsjwnqejq Meet them. They were made for you. :)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mapy4/my_boyfriend_and_i_are_so_much_alike_and_i_found/

nosleep

ArcadeEmpress

Mike '96

I came downtown fully intending to get drunk and bold enough to finally ask the bartender out. The Bag Man got in the way of the patio entrance to the Plucker. His unfortunate name was my invention, an unimaginative title based on the observation of the plastic bags tied in knots around the bottom of his filthy pants, devices to keep the rodents from biting his legs. Normally, I didn’t notice him but my resolve about the bartender was weak and in danger of disintegrating, especially in the face of any minor deterrent, which I would likely use as an excuse to not follow through. “Fuck,” I swore, looking suddenly into sad, distant eyes. Poverty destroys the dignity of a person but can’t invade the remaining humanity locked in one’s gaze. Instantly, I regretted swearing at him. Nevertheless, I proceeded into the darkened bar and flinched at the sight of Emily, reaching above the bar with her long legs and short kilt. Our eyes met, and she knew I was checking her out. “Hey stranger,” she said because she didn't and doesn’t know my actual name. I haven’t had the courage to offer it during our miniscule conversation, little more than a formulaic dialogue. “The usual?” she asked, red lips parting to reveal the slightly crooked tooth I adore. “Yes, please.” I always reply quietly with a nod. I have no idea if she even hears my voice because the music in the bar is so loud. A pint arrived anyway and I drank deeply, greedily; I needed to be less me if this was going to happen. It could totally happen. I lie to myself unconvincingly because I'm obviously not drunk enough. More alcohol arrives with the promise of an inebriated liberation from fear. Attendant grogginess and slurring is the price. I called out for Emily. She looked surprised I knew her name. Another pint appeared but she didn't deliver it. The owner, Jeff or something, suddenly took over service. Emily had shifted to the other end of the bar. "You moved her," I accused Jeff Something. "Eh? What's that?" He had so many customers. No time for the concerns of a coming of age barfly. Loud music was too loud. I needed to regroup. I got off the stool. One isn't drunk until they stand up. I wobbled and took some deep breaths of stuffy Plucker air before making my way through the crush of Thursday night patrons. University students and army reservists from the local armoury mingled and laughed and flirted. Their lives were ahead, and they were unaware, or perhaps disgusted by the thirty-year-old example of a life determined to be wasted. I didn't know how to tell them or anyone I couldn't do better. I was once like them, and now I only wanted someone to give me permission to cry. The air outside was cool for mid September, and already full of the sweet, atrophied scent of fallen leaves. There were piles in the gutter where I put my feet. When I die, my soul will sit on a curb to study the sky forever. If I look up for long enough, I become hopeful. And a little less inebriated. With my wavering resolve recovering under a banner of stars, I took a deep breath and got to my feet, still too drunk to be regarded as any kind of suitor. Just as I contemplated sitting down again, the Bag Man pinched my elbow. "What the fuck?" He'd come out of nowhere. "What do you want? Fuck off." Sad eyes invited self-reflection. "Look, sorry, I'm not having the best night. Do you need some money or something?" I reached into my coat pocket, knowing full well it was empty. Who carries cash anymore? From a plastic bag not tied to prevent rodents entering his pants, he presented, of all things, a DVD disc. It was plain, kind of beat up, and didn't come in a case. I hadn't watched a DVD in years, though I still had my parents' VHS/DVD combo player. It was only missing the stop button, which their cat had chewed off. The Bag Man gently pushed it in my direction. That's when I saw the name and year in faded sharpie: Mike '96. "No thank you," I said. He lowered the hand holding the DVD and nodded as his gaze became distant and depressed. Here was a man with nothing. "Okay, okay," I relented. "I'll take it. Thank you." It's like the sun rose in his heart. I took the DVD, fully intending to bin it the second I went inside. "Thank you," he said, his voice gravelly and the words slow, the syllables stilted off a lazy tongue. "I don't actually have any money," I admitted. But he was already going. He walked down Harper Street and disappeared down the corridor leading to the bus station. I watched because I was procrastinating. Could I actually ask Emily out? Jeff Something had moved her because I was becoming a problem. I didn't want to be that guy. But I also didn't want to be the guy limping home, wishing he wasn't such a loser. I'd take it slow. That's what I'd do. I went back in and ordered water. Jeff Something saw the DVD I'd forgotten about. I'd stuck my thumb and index through the hole and turned it into a fidget toy. "He finally found someone willing to take it," he said, placing the water on a coaster. I flinched because he was too close to my face; I could smell whisky on his breath. Jeff leaned back like he realized our proximity was weird. He nodded and smiled apologetically. "He's been trying to give that to someone for years." Stupid loud music and now, too many voices, noises crawling over noises. Suddenly, the water seemed dumb. "Vodka," I yelled. Jeff brought it over and wouldn't let me tab it. He handed back the credit card I'd given to Emily, who was now working the floor to deliver drinks to patrons. I avoided staring at her but she caught my glance once and it was awkward. How could I ask her out? I didn't want to be with me. Why would she? Or anyone? Defeated once more, I thought of slinking out the door again. Where should I drink tomorrow? Obviously, I couldn't show my face in the Plucker anymore. Not that anyone would notice. "Mike '96," Jeff said loudly, right into my ear. He smiled when I looked at him, smug, like he knew I was a nobody. "Are you going to watch it?" I looked at the DVD. "Hadn't planned on it." "What?" Too. Loud. "No!" He laughed. "I'd be scared too." "I'm not scared." He shook his head. "What?" But then he was off again, pouring drinks. Emily reached over my shoulder to receive and deliver some. I tried not to look. The song ended and there was a momentary quiet. Another regular I sort of recognized walked in. "Hey stranger," she said to him. "The usual?" He sat down on the stool next to mine. I couldn't help noticing his hands were battered, wrinkled, and with bluish green veins revealed by thinning skin. He was old. He was my future, and he was old, and still just a "stranger" to those around him. I had to go. It was too close to sitting beside a mirror and hating the reflection. The walk home was particularly shameful because not only did I feel awful, the landmarks of poverty leading to my one bedroom apartment were all in full evidence tonight. The homeless, the druggies, the overflowing garbage cans, and new, desperate graffiti from the youth trapped here. *What is it for?* Written in red across a dumpster in the driveway of a condemned house. *What is it for?* Hell if I knew. By the time I found my mostly empty fridge in my one bedroom, I was practically enraged. I went for an opened bottle of the worst red wine in existence, and got even angrier when I couldn't remove the screw-top because of Mike '96 on my finger. I'd been wearing the stupid DVD the whole way home. With the rancid wine and a bag of chips, I crumpled into the couch. I finally put the DVD on the coffee table and had a drink from the bottle. Godawful stuff. I put it down and reached into the chips; unfortunately, they reached back. I dropped the bag and could see creepy crawlies inside. "God damn it." No booze. No chips. Only Mike '96. I don't know why it suddenly became so urgent to find the combo player, and why I had to watch the DVD. It felt like defiance to do so. Maybe that's why? I don't know. Angry, drunk people do angry, drunk things. I got it hooked up and playing sometime on the wrong side of midnight. Here's my best attempt to describe what's on it: A black screen presents the title of the film in plain text: Mike '96 Then the picture fades to a cemetery, one I recognized as being close to the high-school I attended. The filmmaker starts to walk slowly, trying to hold the camera steady without success. They swing the view back and forth in a nauseating attempt to capture the undulating fields of gravestones. There's laughter in the distance. It sounds like kids screwing around. The filmmaker is attracted by the noise and goes over to see three teens at the end of a row of already kicked over markers, most of which are old and worn smooth by time. There are soldiers from the war of 1812 buried there, and ordinary people from as late as the 2000s too. I know because my history teacher made us go there and a kid freaked out because she saw her own name on one of the tombstones. That was in grade ten. "You shouldn't do that," the filmmaker, a young woman by her voice, says to the boys. They turn on her so quickly. There's no way to see it coming. She drops the camera after the first blow; the shot is sideways and there he is, the namesake of the film: Michael Pierce. Died in 1996. His marker looks new, shiny, and it's reflective enough to project a shadow play of the violence. Kicks and stomps and punches. The boys howl and grunt like animals. There's no protest or defense put up by the still form of the woman. She's unconscious or dead and they continue for minutes before two of them seem to lift her body and toss it out of the vague reflection. At that point, I was certain I just watched a snuff film. One of the boy's sneakers steps in front of the lens. "We should go," he says hoarsely. "One more," another insists. The camera is picked up then and pointed at the teen who just spoke. He can't be older than fifteen. His arms appear dipped in blood and he's catching his breath. "Don’t point that at me, dummy," he says before striding to his companion and taking the camera. The device is returned to the grass but still not turned off. This time the view is of an older gravestone, half sunk into the ground and small: IN MEMORY OF BABY…The infant's name has been swallowed by the soil. The heel of a Doc Martin briefly enters the picture, cracking the tiny grave marker. A second kick snaps the rock from the base. All three boys chuckle but it's forced, nervous. "Come on man, she's waking up," urges the one I suspect had wanted them to leave before. "Not yet," says the Doc Martens kid. His belt jingles and his zipper unzips. Dark, yellow piss flows over the remnants of Baby's grave. More laughter but only from the urinator. The demeaning ceremony of vandalism ends and the kids run off, leaving the camera. Moments go by and, as I watched, I wondered what could possibly come next, and why the Bag Man had this and wanted to give it away so badly. Since the combo player had no remote, I got up to eject the DVD. That was the only way to stop it from playing because, as i mentioned, my parents' cat had chewed off the stop button. But the view moves suddenly as the camera is picked up by the filmmaker. She directs the lens to her broken and bloodied face, and then the screen pauses. I thought it was the player but I think she edited the movie to end like this. "Do not forgive them," a voice says, and it can't be hers. It hardly sounds human at all. "They know what they are doing." It's hard to describe; the closest imitation would be text reading software sped up and deepened at the same time. "Jesus Christ," I said, finally getting the paused image off my TV and the DVD back on my index finger. I turned around and there I was on the couch. "W-what the h-hell?" I looked around the apartment. I looked at my hands, and felt my face. It had to be a hallucination, a dream. I couldn't be watching myself watching myself. The person on the couch exhaled sharply and then a gurgle came from the back of his throat. Drool formed in the corners of his mouth and started dripping down his chin. "You're not dead," said a voice behind me. I spun around and an old man was standing next to the TV. "I am." He smiled and it might have been the worst facial expression I've ever witnessed because it blurred his features and made his black eyes vibrate. "Who the fuck are you?" I backed away, and put the couch, and me or my body, between us. "I used to live here," he said. "Now I'm just… here." Another smile disrupted his features, pieces of his face split apart, broken seams full of light. "Stop doing that," I told him. "Sorry. I can't help it. I don't know how." "What’s going on?" "I don't know," he said. "I think I died. I guess this is after that. And I'm not always here. I try to be, but sometimes I'm somewhere else. I can be with my wife once in a while. When she thinks about me, I get to go to her. One time she missed me very much and I used an old telephone someone had thrown into the garbage to call her. She kept asking who it was, and no matter how much I screamed that it was me, she only heard static. Scared her badly, so I don't do that anymore." "Shut up. What's going on?" I wasn't asking him anymore. I leaned against the couch and my fingertip brushed the edge of a hair on the body - me - still on the couch in a catatonic state. I could feel the touch on the back of my head. "I told you," the old man said, "you're not dead. But I don't think you can live like this either. Plus-" The temperature in the room dropped to nothing almost as fast as the light fled from the room. The old man sank into the floor. "Uh-oh," he whispered. "It's one of them. This makes more sense now. You should run." He was nearly gone, neck dipping beneath the cheap linoleum. "What? I don't understand." "Don’t let it catch you," he breathed. "If it catches you, you're really done for." "I don't even know-" But he was gone and I was left to face a figure in the darkness, wreathed in a halo of orange light, a slow moving flame revealing the outline of an animalistic skull. It was there for me. Not my body but whatever thing I had become after watching that DVD. "What do you want?" I stupidly asked, knowing full well the answer I just mentioned. Its empty skull sockets weren't empty at all. Within them dwelled a spirit of evil, something humans know instinctively to fear and avoid. I ran for the door but my fingers only rattled the knob. The figure didn't move. I don't know if they can ever really occupy a physical space. But it set its will upon me and that is the same as if claws were sunk into my neck. A paralysis spread through me and movement became difficult. The beginning of something horrific was about to commence in a world without time but eternal sequences nonetheless. My fingers continued to rattle the knob. Then a fist pounded on the other side of the door. "Everything okay in there?" It was the landlord. He lived next to me. "Look, I'm going to call the police, okay?" He swore and his keys rattled as he searched for the one that would open my door. The second his hand clasped the knob, my fingers slipped off. The way opened and I think he saw me. He looked confused and scared. "Sorry bud, I saw your handle jiggling. You okay?" I couldn't answer because I suddenly couldn't remember how to form words. The trapped feeling relented and I moved into the hallway and kept walking. "Where are you-" The landlord gasped. "What the hell?!" I looked back and he was looking into the apartment and back out into the hallway. He saw my body on the couch. He couldn't see me anymore. Another lady was leaving the building for her nightshift. I slipped through the slow-close exit and drifted along the streets in a daze. A lit up ambulance raced by and stopped at my building. They were there to pick up the body I left behind. The old man said I wasn't dead. Sure felt like I must be though. The streets were empty. I didn't feel tired or hungry or anything. If not for the persistent feeling of being watched, I'd said it was the best I'd felt in years. Gone was the impact of poor, alcoholic sleep. In its place, the numbness all that drinking had tried to achieve had finally been realized. I followed a familiar path, the one I'd walked the most in life, straight to the Plucker, closed up tight and locked and dark. I looked through a window and recoiled from the inky shapes moving like tendrils of smoke within. I didn't get the feeling they were the same as the evil thing with the twisted skull slowly pursuing me, but neither were they friendly. I moved on again, and saw the corner leading to the bus station. The Bag Man had beelined there after cursing me with the DVD. I couldn't move the spinning doorway. I could touch it, feel the glass, but had no strength to start the rotation. Nobody seemed to be inside and nothing too. I waited. In the silver edge of pre-dawn, he came, the Bag Man without his bags or ragged clothes. He looked refreshed and clean. His hands pushed through the spinning door and I leapt into the compartment with him before it shifted. When he stepped into the station promenade, he stared for a moment at the ticket wickets on the far wall and the big clock above. He couldn't see me. Yet, he hesitated, scanning the floors and ramps leading to the pick-up spots outside. Finally, he exhaled and went to the tiny variety store on the left. He unlocked and pulled the metal cage, and flicked on the lights. Then he began to set up, and sweep, and get things ready for the day. I think I can be forgiven for not immediately understanding that he worked there. Eventually, he sat on a stool behind the plastic counter and tried to read a newspaper. He couldn't focus, however, and carefully set it down. "I know you're there," he said. "Who could have guessed you had a DVD player and would watch it? If you'd thrown it away, this wouldn't have happened. I think it'd be fine if it stayed buried in a landfill, especially if you'd broken it in half or something. See, they're sort of like scorpions - the evil attached to that movie is one of them - the bigger and scarier they look, the less fatal the venom. With scorpions, it's the little ones you should really worry about." I couldn't say his words were lessening my confusion. "You can touch things," he said. "But you'll only be able to pick up what's been discarded." The old man at my apartment had said something about a phone in the garbage. Bag Man ripped a page from his newspaper, crumpled it up, and then carefully set it on the edge of the waste bin. "Go ahead. Poke it in. Then I'll be able to see you maybe." I did as he said and saw the recognition of my presence in his eyes. Even though he'd been expecting it, he still looked scared. He touched a crucifix tattooed beneath his collar. He pointed to the DVD on my finger. "You have to give it to someone else." I presented Mike '96 back to him, since he'd been the one to start this nightmare. "No, sorry," he said. "I won't take it again. You'll have to find someone else. Then, if you're still alive?" It was a question. I found it difficult to nod. "Then you'll be able to go back. I woke up in the hospital after three years. They said I was in a coma. No point in trying to convince them otherwise. They'll just think you're crazy. You got any family?" Answering seemed impossible as I faded from his vision. He couldn't see me anymore. "That’s okay, just listen. You can live a long time in the hospital. They'll take care of you. But if you have family, they'll be given the option to pull the plug and donate your organs. I don't have any family, so the doctor couldn't legally do it even though I wasn't showing brain activity. Might be the one time I was glad I got no family." I thought of the distant relationship between myself and my parents. The combo player had been the last Christmas gift I'd received from them, two years ago. I didn't go to dinners or birthdays because we had nothing to talk about. I'd gone past the days of trying to impress them with accomplishments and they'd stopped pretending to care. They would pull the plug. It'd taken Bag Man three years to find someone dumb enough to accept Mike '96. I started to panic. How much time did I have? What would happen if I died? Somehow, I knew the answer, and Bag Man confirmed it as if reading my thoughts. "The evil one is with your body now. It's waiting for you to die. I saw it with my body when I went back. The good news was that it couldn't stop me because I didn't have the DVD. Don't let it catch you otherwise though. If it finds you… well, I don't exactly know, but… don't let it find you." I went to the plastic counter and tried to put Mike '96 in his hand. He didn't see me and I couldn't make physical contact. It was like when you try to put the same sides of magnets together and the charges push each other away. "One more thing," he said. "Part of the reason it took so long to figure this out was I didn't know I had to give it away. Also, I didn't know I could only use stuff people threw out. Last, I think, the more stuff you have, the easier it is for someone to notice you." The bags he'd tied on his limbs weren't for rats. He needed to stand out. I could do that. I'd seen the homeless with their shopping cart piles. Were they dead? Or whatever this was? Disembodied souls trying to get noticed by the living? People - the living - began to pour into the promenade for the morning rush. Their presence pushed mine away. The magnet thing was happening again. I struggled to move along the walls until I could make my escape with someone leaving at the same time. Outside, staring directly at me, was an ordinary looking man with gray facial hair and a long black coat. His arm unfolded and he beckoned me over. I almost went. They're like scorpions, the Bag Man had said. Smaller, less impressive meant more potent venom. I ran to the next corner. When I looked back, the thing was gone. My thoughts raced. Panicked, I dove into the first dumpster I saw, behind the donut shop. Food scraps and sodden paper bags were plentiful. But it stank badly. I thought of getting noticed. I thought of rubbing the garbage all over me, and how it didn't make sense to have a body to smear refuse upon while my actual body was somewhere else. Before I really committed to the donut trash, I studied my hands. They weren't real. Or, somehow, they were more real because they were the idea of my hands without which my actual hands could not exist. I laughed at my hands then because surely, I had crossed the threshold of madness. A worker carrying a trash bag found me and looked surprised. Not as surprised as I was that she could see me. It didn't last because I disappeared. Then she dropped the trash and ran. Inside the plastic bag was more palatable garbage, a bunch of unused paper bags. I punched through the bottoms of several and moved them up along my arms until I had two sleeves. Next, I wandered into the street and giggled wildly as people moved to avoid me. They wouldn't look my way but they must have at least partly seen something to step around. I tried to give the DVD to anyone passing outside a bank but no one would stop. Adding more bags drew more looks and that's all. I needed someone to stop. People don't often stop during the workday. They stopped at night, and where did they stop? Why, a bar like the Plucker. The Bag Man had chosen his location wisely. Drunk people do drunk things like take a DVD from a homeless person. Alcohol moved compassion and indifference into action. Charity increased, and so did violence. I had to be careful. The ordinary man made another appearance by the bank and a few others, those like me, scampered away. I ran again too. I went to the Plucker and hid under a small hedge by a law office across the street. The bar opened for lunch. Jeff Something showed up first, and I thought about trying to give it to him and how satisfying it would be if he were in this predicament. I hated him for his confidence and proximity to Emily. If I went during the day, however, the patrons weren't likely to be drunk and stupid enough to take the DVD. I'd be out in the open and one of those things might come. The ordinary man seemed content to only make its presence known for now. That might not be the case next time. Plus, the skull head one, according to Bag Man, might come hunting too. I needed to be patient and strike at peak inebriation. Sometime around 10 PM, I came out from the hedge and took up Bag Man's former post by the patio entrance to the bar. Many paid me zero mind as they came and went. I gestured wildly for attention without success. The paperbag sleeves weren't enough. Something crazier was required. It had to be noticeable but not repulsive. A disgusting person got noticed in order to be dodged. I found twigs and branches beneath a tree and made a crown. As I placed it onto my head, I felt a strange kind of pride; I hadn't actually made anything interesting or good for a very long time. I crouched against the wall and a few coins were dropped into my lap. My fear and panic and confusion began to disappear as I considered the life I apparently wanted to get back to. I'd more interactions with people in the last few hours than I had in months. Just as I felt my desire to give away the DVD falter, the ordinary man and twisted skull head appeared across the street, waiting at the edges of a lone street light's illumination. *You could come with me*, the old man suggested, words spoken without a mouth, a tongue, a body. *Forgive me, lord*, the skull said with a voice like distant thunder, *he is mine, by rights. He viewed my totem and heard its message*. The presence of the ordinary man grew and made the air heavy, difficult to breathe. *Nothing belongs to the worms*, said the ordinary man. *The willing may go where they choose, and he is no one's with a tether still to the corporeal. I think I will have him because he is already free of the shell and I would like to have another body to stretch and pain. Yes, I do think it will be so.* The skull head one bowed till its chin touched the curb. No other being seemed to be on the street or else the darkness following these creatures simply blotted out the light of anything remotely good and living. Below, the ground began to shift and I started to descend by the will of the ordinary man. He would take my body and this spirit and make each suffer to suit his desire. I keep writing "he" but be assured they are an "it", an entity residing in mystery, thriving in the dark. *No, I don't want to*. I still couldn’t talk. Nevertheless, they heard my plea and the futility of it gave them cause for amusement. Our suffering gives them joy, and I don’t know why. I was scared. My ankles were already swallowed by the depths. And then… "Hey stranger," she said. Emily stood with her hand in her purse, searching for money. I held the DVD out just as she found a five to give to me. The bill slipped from my fingers because I couldn't hold it. She took Mike '96 with her other hand. "Uh, thank you." She went inside. "Thank you," I could finally say. The air felt lighter, free of them. I stood above the concrete, and they were both gone. I didn't hang around to see if they'd be back. The hospital isn't far from the bus station. That's why the Bag Man had gone that way after our exchange. When I finally found my room and my body, it was the following morning, and my parents were there with a doctor and a nurse. My mother cried. My father stared coldly at my passive face and finally sneered, unable to hide his true feelings. The doctor removed a tube from my arm. They were already in the process of ending my life. It'd been slightly longer than a day. It made me sad. The skull head occupied the corner of the ceiling - its skull sat amidst swirling, black smoke. "What will happen," I asked, "if I go with you?" *Unparalleled delight*, it lied, badly. I sighed and entered my body. I gasped and drew in a huge breath. The doctor paled visibly and the nurse's mouth fell open. Mom fainted and my dad looked disappointed. I'd failed him again. Despite the urging of the doctor, I got out of the bed and left, heading straight to my apartment. I knew what I had to do. Like the Bag Man, I hoped the DVD lacked a player this time. I went to the bar for lunch and spoke with Jeff Something. His real name wasn't Jeff. It's Joseph, and the DVD in question had been forgotten by Emily in the office the previous night. "Good," I told him. "Smash it." "Why?" "Just… trust me." "Is it something illegal? Is it yours? You got it from the homeless guy, right?" "Look," I said, "I'll give you a hundred bucks for it." I looked at the generic bank machine by the basement stairs and wondered if I could recall my PIN. "I think you'd better leave," Joseph said. "No," I said, "you don't understand." He moved around the bar, and I held my palms up in surrender. "I'll go but don't watch the DVD, okay? Just break it and throw it away." He crossed his arms and stared until I went. Despite the aggression from Joe, I returned to the Plucker, and started going more and more when Emily disappeared. He thinks I had something to do with it. I don't know if her body is in the hospital because that information is obviously kept back from non-family. The DVD isn't at the bar. I go back whenever I can and just hang around, trying to see, really see, the people that could be there, struggling to be seen. And I encourage you to do the same. That person in a tinfoil hat, wearing too many coats, or seagull feathers in their hair might have a gift for you. Take it. It validates their humanity. But don't use whatever it is. It isn't safe. I wrote my story with the help of AP Cleriot after seeing their call for experiences in Bridal Veil Lake. I understand [another such story](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16fm4sw/the_first_time_i_can_remember/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button) is already in this forum, and a link to the overall archive related to the investigation can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/@CleriotNoir) AP has posted this story but both of us are available to answer any questions you have. And I totally understand if you think I'm insane. Just, please, can you pretend I'm not? And that I matter? That everyone matters. I think it may be our only hope.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mnno5/mike_96/

nosleep

APCleriot