Datasets:

intone

/

horror_stories_reddit

like 3

Follow

intone 4

My wife asked a ridiculous question and got offended when I answered honestly. Is there anything I can do to salvage this relationship?

Now listen, I’m not saying I was the bastard love child of George Clooney and Ryan Gosling or anything like that, but when you factored in my soft features and my career, there was no denying I was a serious catch. The problem is looks meant everything to Hannah. *Everything*. See I’d known since early on in our relationship she sought validation through her physical appearance. Personally, I blamed her parents. In our first year of dating, while we lay side-by-side on the beach swapping stories about our crappy childhoods, she told me her dad once refused to put up her school photos. When she asked why, he patted her head and said, “Don’t take it personally honey, it’s not your fault your acnes so disgusting.” So, you can understand where her toxic obsession sprung from. Not that I’m excusing what she did, just making the point that although her skin may have cleared up, those self-esteem issues most definitely did not. It’s funny, in a grim sort of way. Because between her long, golden curls and piercing brown eyes, you could count the number of times Hannah needed to buy her own drinks on one hand. And her fixation with ALWAYS being the centre of attention could get a little…corrosive. Like one time, at a gala dinner, the senior partners at my firm practically started a Battle Royale craning to get a closer look at my Cesare Attolini suit and new Yacht-Master Rolex—the one with the bidirectional rotatable bezel and black dial. Had Hannah stayed home that night, it probably would have gone unnoticed. I woke up the next morning only to find a fist-sized tear beneath the lapel of that dinner jacket, along with two buttons missing. In the months following ‘Attolini-gate’, she *insisted* on attending every last cocktail party and charity ball, no matter how mundane, in the flashiest dress imaginable, her hair all done up, luscious and bouncy. With a glass of champagne in hand, she endlessly referred to herself as my trophy wife. Or the winning lottery ticket that blew into my hand. Little by little, these snide remarks ate away at me. From the way she talked, you’d think she married a professional Shrek impersonator, so the next time she dropped a ‘*don’t you think you’re punching above your weight with me honey?’* quip in front of polite company, I casually replied, “Actually, I reckon we’re about even looks wise.” As I polished off my whiskey, there was a long, awkward pause, interrupted only by one startled on-looker choking on a shrimp tartlet. To Hannah’s credit, her temper didn’t boil over until we got home. However, rather than explode because of the humiliation, she just endlessly ranted about how I’d placed us on equal footing physically. Thirty minutes of shouting, screaming, and stomping around the house later, with half the furniture sprawled across the floor or broken, she said, “Fine, we’re even. You’re the window dressing AND the main breadwinner in this relationship. Congratulations.” With that, the bedroom door slammed shut behind her. Did I already know this encounter was headed to a bleak place? Absolutely. It was almost dawn, though, and I could feel Hannah’s raw fury from the far end of the hall. So, I spent the night in the guest room. Hopefully a little rest would help dissolve that temper… The next morning, from across the breakfast counter, the beautiful woman stared right through me. “Everything okay?” I asked, my voice all meek. She finished her coffee, tossed the empty cup into the sink, and exited the room without a single word. Over the next few days, I’d catch her watching me whenever she thought I wasn’t paying attention. While in the shower, the bathroom door would shiver open, just a little, and I’d quickly turn off the water and shout, “Hello?” only to be met with silence. In the middle of the night, floorboards would squeak and I’d catch a glimpse of a figure in the outside hall, but by the time I flicked on the bedside lamp and scrambled to my feet, the quiet house would be snoozing peacefully. Meanwhile, I refused to believe the obvious truth: that I was terrified of my own wife. I mean, it sounded ridiculous, and if my buddies caught me tiptoeing past the master bedroom or jumping at my own reflection, they’d have said, ‘You can bench 220 but you’re terrified of your missus? Puh-lease’. So, rather than go stay at a hotel, I marched into our room one night, bouquet of roses in hand, and announced to Hannah that I couldn’t hold a candle to her. I said every time the human beam of sunlight I was privileged enough to call my wife and I stood next to each other, I looked so ugly by comparison on-lookers wondered whether my parents might have been related. Hannah gave me a long, hard stare before pulling back the bedsheets. What was I meant to do, wait for a damn smoke signal? I hopped straight in, desperate to believe we’d closed the book on that ugly chapter of our marriage. When I woke up, my hands and feet were bound to the bedposts by metal cuffs. My dearly beloved sat on top of me wearing a face mask, her hips straddling my chest. In her gloved hand, there was a glass container filled with clear liquid. Hannah said, “I’ve been mulling over what you said, and you were right before: we *are* equal.” As she unscrewed the lid, a pungent aroma seeped out singeing my nostril hairs. “But that got me thinking, if I’m not the pretty one, what exactly do I bring to this marriage? Nothing, that’s what. So I’m gonna knock you down a few pegs. You know, to even things out.” The container dangled directly above my skull, slowly tipping forward, inch by terrible inch. Along the side, there was a yellow and black illustration of a beaker spilling over a bare hand and eating away at the flesh. Oh fuck. Now a stammering mess, I choked out a feeble, “Hannah…please…” The last thing I saw was her big, bright smile—the smile that made so many men melt like butter in a hot pan. Then, scalding liquid doused my eyes, and an invisible battalion of hungry ants sunk their mandibles into my skin. From there, there are only vague echoes of me clawing my way across the room, a scream issuing from my bubbling lips, and eye-jelly oozing onto the carpet. Either I broke free from my restraints or Hannah released me. The world appeared as blobs of swirling colour, and the front of my nightshirt kept growing hotter by the second. As I ripped it off over my skull, there came a flash of bright light, accompanied by laughter. It occurred to me that Hannah was probably watching this with great amusement, delighted by her husband’s disfigurement. What I didn’t realize at the time was that she’d *also* snapped photos to WhatsApp to our closest friends. In the morning, they’d wake up, open pictures of me wrestling my shirt over my head—accompanied by the caption \*my ugly man’s got that beach bod—\*and chuckle at what they believed was my ‘disgusting Halloween mask’. Disoriented, still burning, I screamed for help through liquifying lips, again and again. There came no response. My phone wasn’t charging on the bedside cabinet. I fumbled around on my hands and knees, past the carpeted hall, finally uncovering a cold, tiled floor. The bathroom. Guided by muscle memory, I worked my way over into the bathtub, my hands spider-walking up the side. With help from the towel rack, I dragged myself to a standing position. The controls for the shower sat at chest height. Still blind, with the inferno raging on my face growing worse with each passing second, I mashed buttons until a blast of perfect, icy water hit me in the face, providing momentary relief from the pain. It wasn’t long before the showerhead got yanked from its holster. The jet pelted me in the stomach, moved across my torso, and around the side of my thighs. As it turned out, Hannah decided to record an Insta story. *Water fight with the hideous hubby. Love how we’re still sooo goofy after all these years!* I toppled over the side of the tub, my ribs thudding against the floor. A short time later I found myself in the outer hall and as my hand groped for floor, it found only a handful of air, and I went toppling down the stairs. Disoriented, bruised, I found myself trapped in that maze of a house. This wasn’t working. My only chance of summoning help was with Hannah’s phone, but how to get it from her? With a series of stiff shoves, my darling wife wrestled me onto the armchair in the lounge, her delicate voice barely audible through the agony-filled haze. She eased herself into a seat across my lap, one arm draped across the back of my neck. Oh fuck—she was taking a selfie, she was actually taking a selfie. She really had lost it. The second I saw a flashing light, I sprung into action. Later, I was told in the action shot captured by the phone my face had the consistency of strawberry jelly, and where our cheeks touched melted skin stretched out like the warm cheese on a piece of garlic bread. Still blind, I lashed out, swiping at Hannah’s chest and arms. The phone went spinning out of her hand and she tried to run, but I cut off her escape, knowing if she slipped away I’d be left there to rot. With every ounce of strength in my body I reigned down blows, hearing bones crunch and teeth shatter. My 'better' half fought back, swiping at me, tearing away chunks of flesh so large medics would later tell me huge portions of bone shone through. Hannah collapsed onto the floor, groaning. Just from running my fingers across her crumpled features, I could tell she didn’t that ‘more breathtaking than the first day of summer’ smile anymore, and most of the polish had been wiped off those well-defined cheekbones... From there, my survival became a game of Marco Polo with the phone, which had taken shelter beneath the sofa. In the centre of the screen sat a blurry green button. I tapped it, and then a concerned voice spoke back at me. I screamed. I screamed until the police officers kicked open the front door, then I lay in the back of an ambulance speeding toward the hospital, the sirens loud in my ears, a paramedic promising everything would be okay—that they’d save my vision. Twelve weeks I spent in recovery, my face encased with bandages. The authorities took Hannah for her own quick pit stop in the emergency room before carting her off to jail, where she’s currently awaiting trial. From what I hear the other inmates have taken to calling her [the elephant woman…](https://www.reddit.com/r/thoughtindustry/comments/te0fum/welcome_i_hope_you_enjoy_your_stay/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ltedp/my_wife_asked_a_ridiculous_question_and_got/

nosleep

lightingnations

My dad told me a terrifying story about Grandma, and my repressed childhood memories are slowly returning.

**Part I** \- [Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mxfrh/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/) \- [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16o07a7/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/) I’ve not seen my grandma since 2009. She had a catastrophic argument with my dad, but he used to be elusive about what actually transpired between them. Grandma moved away a few months later – I only know that because I remember cycling past her house and seeing it for sale. I was always certain she told my dad her new address, but he always refused my requests to visit her. Once, I did a little detective work and opened a letter addressed to my dad. I recognised Grandma’s handwriting from birthday cards I’d received over the years. Dad scolded me for rummaging through his post, of course. He got all of his mail delivered to a separate PO Box after that – stopping me from intercepting any more letters. *Dear John,* *Please forgive me.* *Mum* *xx* That was all it said. Unfortunately, there was no return address. Anyway, when my mum died in 2018, grieving became our sole focus. I stopped asking about my grandma. I didn’t even really think about her for a long time. Just my mum. She’d been struggling with her mental health for a years, and she was missing for a few months before they found her body. I don’t really want to talk anymore about that – I just thought I’d give some context before carrying on. It's been a painful few years. I haven’t asked Dad about Grandma since I was a teenager. And I’m 24 now. To be honest, I decided a while ago that I was happy to move on with my life. It felt a little like the ship might have sailed. Dad’s the only family I have left. I didn’t want to irreparably ruin our relationship by persistently badgering him about his mother. But last night, something unexpected happened. “Cara?” Dad shouted from the living room. “Come in here. Sit down with me for a minute.” Gulping, I tentatively entered the room and chose an armchair opposite the sofa on which he was slouched. I was panicking because I thought it might be time for a talk about me still living at home. I finished uni a couple of years ago, and I’ve got a job in sales, but it doesn’t pay nearly well enough for me to move out. “You okay, Dad?” I asked. He sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine. But I’ve been thinking lately...” “Uh oh,” I teased, hoping a classic Dad Joke might relieve some tension. It didn’t. “You’ve not asked me about Grandma for years,” He said after a long pause. I was flabbergasted. Dad has never been the one to bring up my grandma. Not since their unexplained estrangement. So, I hardly knew how to respond. After several awkward seconds, I realised that I was simply sitting there, mouth agape, staring silently. My father adjusted his reading glasses, which were perched precariously atop his seemingly-clammy nose and forever slipping down. I started to wonder why he looked so sweaty and anxious. *Could this finally be it?* I wondered. “I’m coming to terms with things. For instance, you’re not my baby girl anymore. You're old enough to go out and make your own decisions,” He said. “And I often find myself wondering whether you still want to see your grandma.” I shrugged. “I stopped asking about her because I could see how much it upset you.” Dad smiled weakly. “I know. We’ve been through… a lot. But what I’m saying is that I’m aware of your age. You’re an adult now. I just… I worry sometimes that she might try and contact you. Maybe she already has.” I shook my head. “She hasn't.” Dad seemed to ease up a little at hearing that. “Good. That’s good. But I realise that, if I really want to keep you safe, I… I have to tell you *why* you shouldn’t see your grandma if she contacts you.” I nodded. “It would help to know why you two fell out.” Suddenly, it was Dad’s turn to gulp. He shifted his body weight in his seat, stalling for time. I found my eyes wandering to the night sky outside our living room window. Torrential rain pummelled the tarmac of our sleepy road, and a solitary lamppost was scarcely visible through the cascading curtain of droplets on the glass. “Your grandma and grandad always had a strained relationship,” Dad eventually started. “That’s why I have so many issues, I think. I just hope none of that rubbed off on you. My mum and dad were always good to me, but they weren’t good to each other. And they seemed oblivious to the effect that had on me as a child.” I nodded gently. I could remember grandma and grandad bickering throughout my early childhood. And then, one day, my grandad left her. “I always thought Mum was a bit too harsh on Dad for his long business trips. He was just trying to provide for us. But when he left her, I obviously empathised and took her side. So, I don’t want you thinking of me as the bad guy,” Dad said. I shook my head. “Never.” “I’m dancing around the subject. You only have one question, I imagine,” Dad said. “What changed?” “Dad, you don’t have to tell–” I started. “– I do,” He interrupted. “If you stop me now, I might never summon the courage again. Okay. I found something shortly after your grandad left, Cara. I was clearing out your grandma’s attic, and there was a cardboard box labelled ‘The Catalogue’. It was… It was full of photos. Photos of missing people, I later learned. And every person’s story was the same. These candid photographs were taken from a distance. In parks and busy shopping centres. Men and women. That wasn’t what scared me. It was... the photographs taken in the attic. Unimaginable brutality. I can’t… I can’t say any more than that.” Quaking at a revelation I never expected to leave my father’s lips, I sat in silence, processing the horrifying information. My mental cogs were turning, but I hadn’t yet realised what I was still repressing. “Anyway… When I confronted your grandma about it, she burst into tears,” Dad croaked. “She said it was the reason Grandad left. He discovered her secret. Obviously, I told her that I was going straight to the police, and she just... said she understood. She didn’t try to stop me. But she fled that very night. Fourteen years later, there’s still no sign of her. I just hope, wherever she went, she stopped... taking people.” And that was it. My dad’s terrible story. I couldn’t find any suitable words, so I stopped searching for any. We both sat for a prolonged period of silence, watching the rain continue to beat down on the world outside. A world which suddenly looked a little darker to me. Eventually, I went to bed, but I didn’t sleep. I *couldn’t* sleep. My head was whirring, but not for the reasons one might expect. You see, Dad’s story didn’t fully add up. I’d remembered something. I used to stay at my grandparents’ house from time to time, and they’d often let me bring a friend or two – given I was an only child, and they “didn’t want me to endure a boring sleepover with two oldies.” They knew who I’d invite. It was always the same two girls. Sophie and Francesca. In fact, they often insisted on me inviting my best friends. And my friends loved my grandparents. Well, mainly, they loved the sweets Grandma and Grandad would give us before bed. Plying us with succulent, sugary goodness that should have kept us awake all night – and yet, we always slept like babies. Well, not *every* time. One night, when I was around 6 or 7 years old, I awoke in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark outside. I felt unbelievably groggy – as if someone had wrapped an elastic band around my brain and restricted the blood flow. But, after a few seconds, I became aware of my surroundings and noticed that, whilst Francesca was fast asleep, Sophie’s sleeping bag was empty. And the door to my bedroom – Dad’s old room – was wide open. I eyeballed the pitch-black upstairs landing through the doorway. My eyesight was hazy, and I’m sure I wouldn't have been able to see a thing anyway, but my ears, on the other hand, were working perfectly. That must’ve been what woke me up. The sound of creaking floorboards above my head – from the attic. My immediate thought was that Sophie was messing around up there, and I worried that I was about to be in big trouble with my grandparents. So, I gingerly rose to my feet – almost passing out as I did – and tiptoed quietly out of my bedroom, trying to navigate the blackened landing. I didn’t want to turn on any lights and wake Grandma or Grandad. But the creaking attic floorboards persisted, along with a muffled voice, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my grandparents woke up anyway. “*Sophie*!” I hissed, hoping she would hear and my grandparents wouldn't. The abnormally-loud creaking immediately subsided, and I held my breath as I finally accepted something. *Those can’t be Sophie’s footsteps*. I hurriedly crept back to bed as the floorboards, like wooden piano keys, creaked hurriedly across the length of the ceiling. I managed to slide under my duvet cover and close my eyes as the attic door opened with a giant groaning noise. It was followed by someone very heavily clambering down the ladder. I remember striving feverishly to feign that I was asleep as the unknown figure lumbered across the landing. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to cry as I listened to the strained breathing of the figure who had stopped in the doorway – the figure who was clearly watching me. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that. It wasn’t Sophie. *It was the Bogeyman*. That was what I told myself. The monster padded clumsily into the room, dropped something heavy on the floor, and then walked over to my bed. I still remember that stale, unclean breath on my face. I was trembling beneath the duvet, but I held my nerve and prayed the creature wouldn’t eat me. And, eventually, it slowly backed out of the room, closing the bedroom door. I remember, when I was eventually certain the monster had left, opening my eyes to see Sophie lying atop her sleeping bag, still passed out. She must’ve been unaware of what happened to her in the attic. I sure hope so. I know now, of course, what I was too young to know then. There was something wrong with those sweets. Just like there was something wrong with Grandma and Grandad insisting on me inviting Sophie and Francesca. But I also remember something else. Something that unravels part of my dad’s story. It wasn’t *both* grandparents who invited my friends and gave us sweets. It was Grandad. [UPDATE](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mxfrh/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/) [X](https://www.reddit.com/r/dominiceagle) **EDIT:** How do I tell my dad? I can’t just leave things like this.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16m1cro/my_dad_told_me_a_terrifying_story_about_grandma/

nosleep

Theeaglestrikes

I'm the owner of a small diner in the middle of nowhere, and I like to give travellers who come in a discount provided they tell me a story about their lives. Over the last decade I've heard some really terrifying things. [PART 4]

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/14jzlvm/im_the_owner_of_a_small_diner_in_the_middle_of/) [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/14kw0r4/im_the_owner_of_a_small_diner_in_the_middle_of/) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/14o2go4/im_the_owner_of_a_small_diner_in_the_middle_of/) Wow. Okay, it’s been a while since I’ve made any updates for this. Sorry y’all. I’ve been.. processing, I guess. It’s been an- interesting time recently. It took me a while before I felt like I could finally write this. I don’t really know what else to say here, so I suppose there’s no place else to start but the beginning. In my very first post on here I was careful not to reveal personal information on who I was talking about. But that doesn't really matter anymore, she knows about all of this now. After the dust settled I asked her if I could make an update and she said yes. She’s also given me permission to share her name. It’s Nadia, which is a lovely name if I do say so myself. But anyways. I’ll get to the point. I had been hoping for all these years that our reunion would be happy. She’d come in with the weight she’d been carrying all these years taken off her shoulders and an amazing story of triumph and survival to tell. That wasn’t the case. Instead she came in all battered and bruised, her face and body gaunt and a look of absolute defeat in her eyes. I could barely recognize her, if I’m being honest. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she’d endured to put her in such a state. I still remember how the plate I was holding shattered against the floor of the diner when my body nearly stopped working as the shock of who I was seeing hit me. Just like the way she flinched away from the sound, her body tensing up almost instantly as her gaze began to shift around the room; searching for dangers. But most of all I remember the words she’d said. “It’s taken everything from me. Everyone. That’s why I’ve come here, so I could warn you. And I don’t know if you’ll hate me for dragging you into this all those years ago and for coming back now, but I had to.” She had sighed, tucking her messy brown hair behind her ears before continuing to speak; her dark eyes avoiding my own. All those years ago, you did something for me. You were kind. You chose to care for me, even though you had no reason to. And because of that you’ve been a beacon for me all these years; the knowledge that there’s at least a little bit of good left in the world. And it doesn't like that. It wants me alone, isolated. That’s why it’s been hurting them. Because it knows that if I have nobody left I’ll give up. And you’re the only one left. So it’s going to come for you.” Nadia seemed different. Her voice was monotone, distant sounding. Unlike how I’d remembered her, she no longer seemed scared anymore. She just seemed.. done. Done with hiding, from being hunted, from the Hell that was her life. This was her last stand. “I’m so sorry.” She’d whispered. But as I stared at her, I felt no anger. I don't know why she thought I would. Perhaps she thought that her warning me also meant leading it here? Because if that was the case I’d certainly prefer that option over it killing me before I had a chance to prepare. And by prepare, I meant go home and get the shotgun. I took a cautious step closer reaching over to take her hand in mine. She flinched, but didn’t make a move to pull away. “I-” I hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I’m not angry at you. I mean- I’m not really excited at the prospect of that thing coming after me; but any warning is better than nothing, right?” She laughed, albeit shakily. “How long do we have?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible for her sake. Nadia only gave me a small shrug. “It seems to only come out at night. I was moving all day yesterday and most of this morning, so if we’re lucky tomorrow night? But given my track record I doubt it..” She was still avoiding my gaze, but from what I could see of her eyes, she was holding back tears. I squeezed her hand, trying to embody courage that I didn’t feel. “Nadia. Look at me.” Her dark eyes flicked upwards to meet mine. “You said it took everyone else away from you, right?” She nodded. “Then it would’ve come after me either way. At least now I have a fighting chance.” I’ve always been strangely calm when I’m in danger. I used to joke that my fear response was backwards; I’m calm when people should be panicked and panicky when nothing is wrong. Maybe my brain understands that if I panic when I’m in danger I would drown in it instead of helping me get to safety so it turns that part off. That’s just a guess though, I’m not a scientist or nothing. I took a deep breath. I still had that feeling of sinking dread in my stomach, but the rest of me was calm. Or more like, empty, I guess. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” The two of us left the diner after I explained my plan to head back to my home. At that moment, I remember having two priorities. The first was saying goodbye. I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it through the night, but if I wasn’t I was saying proper goodbyes. I wasn’t sure if my husband would believe me, but I’d told him Nadia’s story before; if someone shows up with the exact same story and same impossible scar, that’s pretty damning evidence in my opinion. The second I’d mentioned earlier. The shotgun. My husband enjoys hunting, so we have a ten gauge in the house, and I’ve come with him on a few trips. Turns out hunting animals isn’t something I enjoy, but I do know how to use a gun. My husband was sceptical at first; but oh boy, if you’d seen Nadia in that moment you’d just know she wasn’t lying. There’s nothing in the world that couldn’t convince me of that. At first we argued. A lot. Obviously he wasn’t on board with what I was planning on doing, I mean, who wouldn’t be? But if that thing was coming after me I was not going to drag him or my baby girl into it. This might be a bit strange to say given what happened, but I think out of everything that happened that night saying goodbye to them was the worst. At least my husband understood the gravity of the situation, and he knew there wasn’t much we could do to avoid it. He was devastated of course, but he knew why I had to go. If I was dying that night the only goal I had would be keeping my family safe. My daughter on the other hand, was a different story. She’s so little. I couldn’t possibly explain all this to her. I’ve spent the last few years convincing her that monsters aren't real, how could I possibly tell her differently now? I hugged her tight and told her I would be back soon. She gave me that sideways little smile she’s always had and wandered off to play with her toys again. And that was it. I was leaving my house and driving off into the woods, far away from where my loved ones could be collateral damage. In the forest near my home there’s this small abandoned shack. It’s easy enough to get to; I used to go to parties there back in high school, but far away from any other people. The two of us slipped inside as the sun began to fade and the temperature dropped, huddling together in a corner as we waited for the thing to follow us to what we hoped would be its final resting place. Nadia was curled in a corner, seemingly trying to make herself as small as she could. She rocked back and forth ever so slightly, pulling her thick cardigan tighter around herself as she did. For the first time that day, she looked well and truly terrified. “Do you think it’ll work?” Her voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. I shrugged. “I’m not sure, if I’m being honest. But if I know one thing, I’m going to blow that bastard’s head off.” She gave me a weak smile. I’d like to mention at this point that I’m in no way a very violent person. Hell, at that point the most damage I’d ever done to a person or person-like-thing was when I’d punched the girl who’d been spreading rumours about a friend back in tenth grade. But this had been different. After hearing this girl’s story I knew that if I ever came face to face with this monster, all that was going out the window. And so we waited, the hours passed and the woods around us darkened; every sound morphing into a potential danger. The moonlight filtered in through the broken windows, bathing the room in an eerie glow. The two of us sat ridgid, Nadia’s hand clutching the hunting knife my husband had given her and mine around my gun, as we flinched at the sounds of every passing animal or snapping twig. But for a while things were quiet, neither of us really having anything to talk about at that moment. At some point during the night, Nadia had begun crying. She buried her head in her knees, and my hand drifted to cover hers, trying to offer some miniscule amount of comfort. I wish I could’ve said something to help her in that moment, but my mind was blank. The two of us were facing the monster that had haunted her every waking moment for the past five years, who’d taken away everyone she’d cared about, reduced her to a shell of a person whose only hope was to live another day. Holding her hand as she cried was all I could think of doing. The next few hours were spent in utter silence. Everything around us was so still, so quiet, that I’d almost let my guard down. That was until a look of pure fear crossed Nadia's tearstained face. Her eyes grew wild as she pressed herself further into the walls of the shack, blindly pointing her knife in the direction of the door. “It’s coming,” she’d whispered, “oh my God, it’s coming it’s coming-” but before I could say or do anything to calm her down, a new sound caught my attention. Heavy footsteps making their way towards us. With every passing second they only grew louder; twigs and dead leaves outside snapped under the force. I was frozen in place, shotgun aimed at the sound, ready to unleash Hell on whatever came through the door. But I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t think of a single scenario where I would be prepared to process what stood in front of me. A single knock on echoed through the room as the flimsy wooden door splintered and I just froze; a single blow from the thing had been enough to take the door completely off its hinges. Heavy footsteps slowly and deliberately making their way towards the shack. I jumped to my feet, entering a defensive stance with my gun trained on the door. But as the thing slammed against the door and I watched it collapse underneath the force, acid eating through the wood like it was nothing, I simply froze. The horrors I’d been imagining didn’t nearly do the thing justice. The very first thing I noticed was just how wrong it looked. Somewhat human looking, but every fibre of my being was screaming that this was not a human. The thing’s impossibly tall frame towered over both me and Nadia; with sickly pale skin that seemed to just barely stretch over its bones, shoulders and elbows jutting out to the point I was surprised they hadn’t tore through the skin itself. It’s mouth was split open in what seemed to be some horrible imitation of a grin, revealing rows of pointed, rotted teeth speckled with dark blood. It wore the scraps of what once could’ve been a camouflage uniform, but the remaining fabric was so dirtied and stained from the years of rough travel along with it seemingly being soaked with what blood made it near impossible for me to fully tell. I stared at it for a moment, desperately trying to comprehend what I was looking at when it lunged towards me. I don’t really remember what happened next. My mind just went blank and my reflexes took over, and I aimed my shotgun and fired a round into its head. All of a sudden the thing was no longer moving towards me, instead crumpling onto the floor in less than a second. The impact from the bullet blew apart its face, blood and brain matter exploding outwards and covering every nearby surface in a thin layer of gore. The walls, the ground, my clothing, everything. And then there was just silence. Neither of us dared to move. I stood there for a while staring at the body on the floor, ears ringing and hands still gripping the gun tightly as Nadia eventually took a very small step closer to the creature. “Do you think it’s dea-” At the sound of her voice the monster twitched. It shouldn't have been able to, but it did. Somehow it began to drag itself off of the floor; bent and too-long limbs causing it to stumble like a baby animal as the featureless, bloody mess that had once been its face turned in Nadia’s direction. I like to think I’m brave. That I can protect people. So the fact that I wasn’t able to do anything but stand there watching as the creature advanced on my friend is something that I still feel guilty over whenever I think about it. I thought I was going to watch her die. And then Nadia drew her knife. And suddenly she was on top of the thing, plunging the blade into its chest and jugular veins over and over as this desperate scream of agony and rage ripped it’s way from her throat. It began to thrash underneath her, hands swinging blindly at her as she ducked to avoid them and moving to bury the blade in its shoulders and hands instead. Within moments the knife had been burned away by the thing’s acidic touch, but the damage was already done. Nadia slowly stepped off the now-lifeless body on the floor, wiping at her eyes with bloodstained hands. She crouched down next to the creature, silent and unmoving beneath her and whispered something to it. I don’t know what she said, it isn’t any of my business after all; but as she stood up all the fear and hardness fell away from her face. She looked exhausted, but for the first time since I knew her I could see a genuine smile cross her face. We burned the shack. I already had seen the thing regenerate once, and while I was pretty sure she killed it I wasn’t taking any chances. As it burned I’d gone back to the car to get some food and medical supplies for the various injuries we’d sustained; but Nadia wouldn’t take her eyes off the shack until it was nothing but blackened wood and ash. By some miracle neither of our wounds were too severe, I got out with a few nasty scrapes and bruises and Nadia had another burn; although not nearly as serious as her first one. And then the two of us went home. It’s been a bit of a blur since then. The diner was closed for like three weeks as I recovered, and thankfully my neighbours didn’t pry about my whereabouts much further than my husband’s explanation of some vague yet horrible medical emergency; which is probably a miracle in itself. Nadia’s been staying with my family since everything happened, and she’s been doing okay. It’ll be a long road after everything she’s been through I’m sure, but I know she’ll be able to through it. I’ve been having a hard time recently too; I’m a lot more on-edge and jumpy than I used to be and I’ve had some pretty awful nightmares as well, but I suppose that’s understandable. I’ve just been taking it day by day, that’s really all I can do after all. But Nadia’s monster is dead and my family is safe. So I think that things will be okay from here.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16m3cxv/im_the_owner_of_a_small_diner_in_the_middle_of/

nosleep

LucifersWitness

Hawthorn Manor

My story begins on a fateful night when I, Daniel, embarked on a journey that would forever haunt my nightmares. It was a night of tempestuous thunderstorms and a broken-down car that led me to Hawthorn Manor, a decaying mansion that loomed like a monstrous sentinel in the midst of a desolate forest. The first ominous sign was the dead silence that enveloped the mansion, as though nature itself dared not intrude upon its grim domain. With no other option, I ventured inside, my heart pounding with each step. The air was damp and heavy with the scent of decay, and my flashlight's feeble beam revealed shattered furniture and faded portraits of a once-prosperous family. But what unnerved me the most was the oppressive sensation that I was not alone. Whispers seemed to emanate from the walls, and chilling drafts brushed against my skin, making my hair stand on end. The shadows danced with a malevolent life of their own, as if mocking my intrusion into their world. As I explored further, the mansion's secrets began to unravel. I stumbled upon a room concealed behind a hidden panel, its walls adorned with arcane symbols and eerie paintings. It was a chamber of horrors, where unspeakable rituals had taken place. Fear clawed at my throat as I realized the mansion had been a playground for a sinister cult. A feeling of dread gnawed at me, but my curiosity pushed me deeper into the labyrinthine mansion. As I descended into the basement, the air grew colder, and a guttural chanting echoed through the corridors. There, in a dimly lit chamber, I witnessed a nightmarish congregation of hooded figures, their eyes gleaming with madness. They turned towards me with a collective hiss, and a paralyzing terror gripped me as I realized I had stumbled upon an ongoing ritual. I fled, but their malicious laughter chased me through the twisting hallways, echoing in my ears like a maddening refrain. I thought I had escaped the horrors of Hawthorn Manor when I reached the attic. There, I discovered a diary that detailed the cult's heinous acts, their desire for eternal life, and their intent to claim my soul as a vessel for their dark deity. Panic surged through me as I read the journal's final entry—an incantation to bind my spirit to the mansion. Desperation drove me to confront the cultists, but they were relentless. As they closed in, their chanting reached a fevered pitch, and I could feel the walls closing in around me. Just as I was about to be consumed by the darkness, a blinding light erupted from the diary, illuminating the attic. In that moment, I realized the diary was not just a record of their malevolence but a weapon against it. With a final, deafening scream, the cultists were banished, their malevolent presence vanishing into the ether. But the terror of that night still lingers. The Hawthorn Manor remains, its history a tapestry of darkness and suffering. And as I stand here, forever changed by my encounter with the malevolent forces that dwell within its walls, I can only wonder what other horrors lie hidden in the shadows of this cursed place.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mibcl/hawthorn_manor/

nosleep

LuluLuvv_OF

A Wish Come True

I told my wife I was going for a short walk and promised I wouldn’t venture far. She wasn’t a big fan of this hobby but waved me on as she got into bed. I threw on a pair of sweats, a long-sleeved shirt, and some worn tennis shoes then headed out the door. I saw that the night sky had a good number of stars as I took a left down toward the cul-de-sac at the end of our street. It ended at a hiking trail between two houses. The common path loops back around but one of the break-off paths leads deeper into the park; a chain link fence and a wooden park sign marked the entrance. The trees grew tall and thick, but moonlight still shone brightly through the foliage onto the trail and peeked ever so often through the woods. I had a lot on my mind, and it was going to take a while to clear. We’d already used all our savings and every credit card to our name was maxed out or a few dollars from the finish line. Our kid still needed school supplies, and medication, on top of car repairs, mortgage, and a layoff I just didn’t know how we were going to make it. We’d fallen behind and our income just wouldn’t allow us to catch up. The realization of yet more bills came crashing down and brought me to a state of mind that I welcomed misfortune just so I wouldn’t have to deal with all this anymore. At least my family could use the money to set themselves up and be ok. I looked up at my surroundings. I was so deep in my head that I hadn’t noticed I was walking through a haze of dust but figured it must be from a small dirt devil or strong wind. However, the air had a magical brisk feeling to it despite it. I gazed upward and squinted at the trees which had transitioned from green to dark turquoise leaves, obviously a trick of the haze and limited light. I chuckled at myself and appreciated the brief distraction. I paused a moment when fireflies emerged to dance in spiral patterns, their coordination alluring and off-putting. I tracked one a few moments before I shot out and cupped it in my hands. But when I opened them, nothing was there. I smiled to myself as my mind re-focused on my current situation. I felt so overwhelmed and wished I never had to worry about money again. “Now there’s a wish as old as time” a gravelly voice echoed from the side of the trail. On my side where there hadn’t been anything, but forest was a natural path of rock, tree roots, and earth that led to a small clearing. In the back upon an ivory stump sat a rather dapper middle-aged man, bronze skin with jaw-length silken black hair, eyes that I swear shifted between brown and green, and a short, trimmed beard. He wore a suit that shimmered in the moonlight in a cacophony of colors. That same haze of dust and light hung around him like a curtain as it continually drifted outward. What I previously thought were fireflies danced around him. He collected a few in his palm nonchalantly until they were a single ball of light and tossed it back and forth before he clapped his hands together and it was gone. He stood up, took a perfect bow, and began to pace around the stump. “My name is Mr. Afritz Jinn, and I deal in wishes. I couldn’t help but hear your rather, loud, thinking. Sufficient currency has been and always will be a problem for you lot it seems.” His smile faded into an exaggerated frown then he tilted his head upward and rubbed his chin contemplatively. “Though I do have just the solution to this problem, just the solution indeed. I have more than enough and not enough to spend it on. What is it you all say? Can’t take it with you!” His lips curled “So how about a bargain? A wish from me and I borrow something from you?” Mr. Jinn sat back down on his stump with one leg crossed over the other and bobbed his foot to an internal rhythm. He rested his head in his hand already bored and awaited my answer. “Uh, well, I need to think about this maybe. Do you have a way to contact-” I turned to walk away but found myself facing Mr. Jinn again, everything was as if I hadn’t moved at all. He stood on the ivory stump and sailed through the ground like a boat on placid water. He settled behind me gracefully and set his hands on my shoulders. “I’d sing you a song with animals and fireworks but I have a terrible singing voice and would rather not waste my magic on vanity.” He chuckled. “Your life hasn’t exactly worked out, has it? And all that hard work just can’t keep up with the chaos. I have been here a long, long, time and I can confirm that this earth cares not for you. It cares for nothing other than that it continues to turn and what stands on it while it does so matters little.” I clenched my fists in expectant self-defense and pain at how his words echoed much of my own self-disparagement. “The forces that make up the universe care even less. Aloof as they are.” He brushed the shimmering dust that had settled off my shoulders. “Yes, I have seen it, it takes the best of you to thrive, and you just missed the mark, but worry not failure can be corrected. I'll borrow your soul for a brief time. I fuel the wish and keep some for myself, I think that’s fair” The world spun briefly then I found Mr. Jinn in front of me, his hands clasping my arms. My visceral reaction was to tell him to fuck off and return home. Chalk this whole thing up to some anxiety-induced breakdown, but vivid images of my wife rushed to mind. The look of relief on her face, a restful night's sleep, her smile when she finally got to travel and see the world like we’d dreamed. I contemplated the loss of my soul. “And that sweet little girl you have. What could you do for her?” The words rolled from his tongue like a stone down a mountain. My mental images shifted to her and my heart grew heavy. I don't know how valuable a soul is but it sounded like enough. I still had my doubts and my pride wanted to challenge the man to see if he could do what he promised. A thought probed my mind “Is there anywhere for me after I die anyway? Was I ready to face the void? More time in existence could be nice.” “And if there is somewhere for you.” Mr. Jinn spoke low. “They would have more ownership than I. I have no choice but to abide and give you back. Win-win.” He let me go and an incredulous smirk drew across his face. I felt the need to decide. Our financial situation rushed through my mind with visions of broken hearts and faces filled with tears on a repeat reel of suffering. “Fine.” I said “ Live up to your end and you can have my so-” “Tut tut tut” Mr. Jinn put up a finger “I believe you mean to start with I bargain” “Ahem, I bargain my soul for a wish. That my family never have to worry about money.” “Until the deal is done then.” With a blink, Mr. Jinn was at the very back of the clearing and snapped his fingers. I felt a violent pull and before me stood a perfect reflection, transparent and sickly green. Mr. Jinn smiled then his jaw went slack and his body limp. He was lifted into the air by a now visible white appendage and swung back and forth like a rag doll. The ground rumbled and shifted like sea waves before it broke apart; the ivory stump rose from the ground atop what came to be a large craggily oblong body. Patchworked across was clay-like skin. This monster that I assumed to be the real Mr. Jinn had no features but a mouth so wide it could swallow a small car. Inside were teeth that spiraled toward an abyss from which numerous wriggling appendages that shimmered in fantastical colors probed in and around his cracked lips. Mr. Jinn propped himself up on fat child-like arms of rock and stone that left him toad like then let out a mountainous sigh. That’s when I heard screams. At the tail end of the sigh were innumerable asynchronous screams. When I paid attention, they could be heard every time he breathed. My doppelganger looked at Mr. Jinn and then back to me in confusion when in an instant Mr. Jinn leapt forward and gripped my soul tightly. My specter struggled and kicked with all his might, panicked and terrified. I tried to look away, but the former body of Mr. Jinn came back to life, his eyes glowed an angry green. “You will witness, or the deal is void! What do you think you deserve when you dare not see!?” Mr. Jinn cackled gruffly. My body felt heavy and held in place. Tears flowed mutely from my soul’s eyes, and I couldn’t help but match his expression. He gave me one last look of sorrow and mouthed ‘why’ before Mr. Jinn turned him over and bit the lower half from my soul. My specter’s face contorted into an excruciating pain I hope never to experience. Its silent scream deafened the forest as fluid and viscera fell into the ground. Mr. Jinn chewed loudly and sloppily then twisted off one arm and then the other and slurped them into his mouth. My soul lay nothing but a torso with a blank but living expression on his face. A single tear fell because there was no more to give. I felt it. His grim resignation fighting against the hope that someone would save him. Mr. Jinn opened his circular maw once again and the tendrils from inside gingerly wrapped and lifted my spirit back toward that screaming black pit. I watched the darkness slowly wash over him before Mr. Jinn snapped his mouth shut. “What. the hell." I stammered. "I had a psychotic break, right? This isn’t real? I feel so empty, this can’t be real.” The body swinging above Mr. Jinn lowered itself back onto his ivory stump and once again rested his head in his hand. “Mad dreams? No, no, no. All real as the deal we sealed. Remember I’m only borrowing it. A century or four at most.” “What. What were those screams?” I stuttered “You’ll be finding out soon enough. You lot are like flies I swear. Not to worry though there’ll be enough left of you for whatever afterlife wants you. That’s a fair price to flourish I think.” He adjusted his jacket. Mr. Jinn flexed and wriggled his fingers which caused motes of light to gather and dance before a plastic card appeared in his hand. “That card is bound to you, taking up the empty space where your soul used to be. It will always return and never be lost. Should work everywhere currency is accepted. As long as you're around.” He flung it and it spun right in front of my face until I grabbed it. “Wish granted,” he said coldly. His monstrous body dug back beneath the earth and his dapper self stood with a Cheshire smile before he disbursed like sand. The area was left undisturbed as if nothing had occurred and when I made it back to the trail, it disappeared altogether. I walked back home in silence. I was able to pay off all our debts and build up significant savings. Strangely, no one ever questioned where the money came from. I tried once to get ahead of my wife asking questions and came up with a convincing excuse. But when she heard me her eyes turned green and her smile grew wide. She grit her teeth so hard her gums began to bleed as she brought a single finger up to her mouth for a strained “Shhhh”. She snapped back with no memory of what just happened or our discussion. That was the last time I spoke about it. Though my family is more than content I can’t say the same for myself. I still feel just enough emotion to exaggerate and act out the rest but even that is slipping away. I’m afraid of what that would do to my relationship with my family. I could lose the very thing I sold my soul to protect. There’s another fear that occupies my thoughts. Every night I’ve had nightmares. Nightmares of people buried alive; others impaled by roots; faces screamed through quicksand; cries for reprieve from the claustrophobia and suffocating darkness as their very selves were drained away. Every time I sit down with my family and watch their smiling faces I hear a gravelly echo “You’ll be finding out soon enough” and I can’t help but wonder. Was it worth it?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16m9zgb/a_wish_come_true/

nosleep

TheSolemnSage

I worked at the construct site for Diorama tower, what really happened there is far worse than the public's knowledge.

I was one of the people at the epicenter of one of the biggest failures in architectural history. The Diorama Tower was a "dream building" conceived by 11 of America's top architects of the 21st century, but a series of disasters and controversies ended that dream. Well-known controversies included embezzlements, corruption, mafia connections, mistreatment of employees, and the biggest scandal of all: the fall of Robert Yates. The 'Dream Building' eventually became the Building of Nightmares, and construction was halted 2 years after construction. Yes, it was a failure. But most of those were not why it was abandoned in the first place. Yates' death was the biggest one, but the reason we decided to stop the construction is what really caused Yates' demise. People die on construction sites often, but this in particular... it's far worse than any other construction-related fatality. Out of the eleven architects, a fellow named 'Wayne' became the first director of the project, and because he was the most successful, the most experienced, and the most well-known of the eleven, he naturally became the project's figurehead. His leadership was short-lived because he was discovered embezzling the funds for the project. He was quickly removed from the project even though he was the director. The second director, 'Stan,' was the complete opposite of Wayne. He was pretty new to the world of architectural projects, but what made him the director was the fact that he was a rising star who had built a lot of iconic landmarks in specific cities across the states; probably not even an exaggeration, but he is the greatest architect ever to set foot in America. Stan also had experience as an accountant, so his financial knowledge would be helpful anyway. Immediately, he would reclaim the embezzled funds by starting a fundraiser and taking some talking to the court, leading the council to keep on investing in the project. Then there was the second problem: where we had decided to build the apartments. It was located at an empty plot of grass that surrounds 4 Neighborhoods. While the scenery wasn't a big deal, the problem was that things started to get out of control when children started showing up to see the project and mess around. Yes, that was the problem, children. Because they were children, they have zero ideas of the knowledge and the importance of the building, not to mention children nowadays are rebellious, violent, and hedonistic. I'm not saying I hate children, but some do really get on my nerves. They are too dumb to live with us and should live somewhere else and not give us a bad time. There was pure silence except for the machinery noises for the first few days of the construction. When word spread to the residents that we were building a new apartment, people, especially children, started to come nearby. Not because they were interested in the construction but because the place where they used to play soccer was right next to the construction site. Over the past 2 weeks of the project, their soccer balls have entered our site more than 30 times. The last 2 of them have caused major disruption in the construction, causing workers to be pissed. From those two incidents, all we discuss at breaks is how horrible kids are. The child we hated the most was the dark-haired boy whose grimness, terror, and grotesqueness seemed to come straight out of a movie. He looks like a gothic vampire (Although he acted completely normal like other kids, fooling around and kicking soccer balls.) Therefore, in consultation with the construction site supervisor and the city council, the 20-meter radius from the construction site was turned into a" 'no entry' zone for non-related personnel. To ensure the kids that this was taken seriously, we have also written that entering this site is essentially trespassing and could lead to being investigated by the cops. It was a good choice because children have stopped disrupting our construction since this rule was implemented. The project seemed to go well without any problems. But of course, there was someone who would ruin everything for the team. That is what exactly happened 4 days after the rule was implemented. During one meeting, Yates, looking out the window while discussing the next steps, suddenly got up and ran outside angrily. When we caught up to him, it was too late. One of the children stepped on the concrete used to create the outliers of the building's area. What makes this different is that this was the first time there was a deliberate sabotage attempt on our construction, not by accident, not a mistake, on purpose. Yates was furious, and It wasn't just the kids he was angry with; he was very frustrated with us. He blamed all of the kid's actions on us, and while we felt insulted, it was something we couldn't deny. For a few days, while we were just focused on the construction work, Yates had been doing many things behind the scenes to prevent things from going wrong by teaching kids about safety hazards, which we all mocked as a waste of time. What did we do when he was trying to prevent this situation? Nothing. The meeting ended in a grim turn as we headed to the damage scene to recover it. Yates promised that he would be here first thing at dawn to keep this construction site contacted by the ruffians, and he would not stop until he sent a legitimate message to the children. We took his words seriously this time but didn't realize how much of a problem they would cause. That evening, Yates stayed behind to lock all the doors to the construction site, gave the key to the foreman, and while everyone else went to the hotel, he got a room near the construction site, and that was that. We walked into the hotel of Mr. Hanbal, who was very kind to us; he and his wife have been running the hotel for 22 years. Mr. Hanbal is a man with an unusual past: his father and grandfather were shamans, and he is said to have divine powers. Perhaps his charm drew me in, but I was the closest to him of all the workers at the construction site. While others went to their room at 9 p.m. I used to stay up late, talk to some of his spiritual friends, and discuss the concepts of life and mortality. Over drinks, those of us at the hotel discussed Yates' reaction. Something was off about what he meant by 'will not stop.' And That night, looking at the ceiling, I thought again. I'm sure people have thought this before, but villains and murder in movies feel embellished because it's entertainment. If you look at movies, there are a lot of villains, from tragic villains like Darth Vader to pure evil like the Joker. We don't feel anything when they kill because it's entertainment, drama, and theater. In real life, it's different. In real life, killing shows the darkest human emotions like fear, hatred, outrage, dismay... What I felt was confusion. Why... Yates? At the construction site, Yates asked us for one favor, an order to be exact. While we were sleeping in the hotel, Yates went out on patrol and fought violently with a shadow that fell upon him. Believing his life was in danger, Yates struck the figure with a nearby brick, killing it. After cleaning himself, He looked at the body with a flashlight and was shocked to see that he had murdered a child. We went where he buried the boy, who looked like a character from one of those gothic movies...His body was as pale as Dracula's, wearing red with a cap on his head, and his eyes were pale as a skeleton. What scared us the most was not his face but what was surrounding the child's cadaver. Even though he looked like he had died a few hours ago, his body was covered in maggots. I learned that just because you have a lot of muscle doesn't mean you're not scared, as the two biggest guys in the room gagged and the Stan cowered. Yates buried the boy again with fear in his eyes, and for some reason, we decided to let him off the hook. Everything would have gotten right if it wasn't that the maggots started to crawl out of the soil into the construction site. Not one or just two, heaps of them, Crawling out of the soil like they have risen from the dead. Most of their futile efforts to escape the soil were stopped when we started to stomp on them, and we covered it with rocks, this time in hopes that this would bury the boy and Yates's murder. The maggots kept appearing, and the rocks did not stop the maggots from rising from the underground, if anything, they had grown to a laughably huge amount. In desperation, we decided to remove the rocks from the burial site and now cover them with concrete like Japanese Yakuzas. Furthermore, we created a special wooden tool to ensure the concrete is hardened enough for nothing to come from the ground. And they stopped coming out for a while, and the rest of the day was gone planned, with one exception that we were now antagonizing Yates, who were turning more sensitive, more vile, and more obsessed throughout the day. At the end of the day at the construction site, I decided to take off my gloves and put my boots in storage to change clothes, and I was the last one out on the site, Yates standing at the boy's grave. I turned and saw his expression through the fence: scared, angry, amused, remorseful, or someplace in between. His face was like he was possessed by something. We were all in a construction zone, a no-go zone, and didn't know what was going on outside; the townspeople had realized that the boy Yates had killed was missing and were conducting a massive search in the city; and the police had already assumed the worst, so they imposed a curfew, and the city, which was normally bustling by nine o'clock, became a ghost town. We all visited the Inn with dreadfulness and tried to hope for a better tomorrow. Just as I was about to close the door in the room, I saw Yates walking with the innkeeper, as it seemed as if he had borrowed a room. Both men were sweating. The sweat on the men's faces was not the sweat of hard work but a mixture of fear and dread. From that moment on, I felt something dreadful was about to occur. It was not a dreadfulness of us being in trouble but the feeling that our days were numbered. And that day has come. That day has sealed the fate of the Diorama tower. When we entered the construction site, we saw thousands of maggots on the ground with no dirt to stand on, and as we picked them up and walked to the office, the workers groaned as they saw the maggots crawling up their bodies. The site was filled with multiple people shaking themselves to get rid of the maggots who were infiltrating their bodies for survival. Stan opened the office door in a fit of insane bravery, and we dashed into the office before slamming the door shut. When we looked out the window, it looked as if the maggots were coming for us. No, it felt as if they had surrounded us. We all glared at Yates, especially Stan, who was superstitious; he believed that the murder may have 'cursed' the site. Yates was also furious at the sudden blame he got. While the two of them were arguing, some of us grabbed pesticide and started to spray on the maggots. Within minutes, every maggot that was crawling had stopped moving. I took the broom and filled a different hole to put the dead maggots into. As I was cleaning up the maggots, I felt an inexplicable sense of dread that these maggots appearing were now part of a larger whole. The next thing I had to do since the place was completely clean, was to aid Yates in getting up to the crane while I also fixed the electrical wires placed on the crane to lighten it in the dark. I took my kit and walked to the elevator, and a minute later, I was standing at the topmost part of the city. The reason I got into construction was that I was never afraid of heights, and every time I climbed the top of a crane, I felt such a sense of freedom, relief, and happiness that I quickly forgot about the maggot incident on the ground below, it made me feel joyful since I saw the morning mist arise from the mountains that surround the construction site, like a movie scene. I immediately got to work and started fixing the crane wires. After 10 minutes of silence, Yates suddenly said to me. "I have a feeling that I am not going to make it out of here today." The ominous words broke my concentration, and I glared at Yates. "Cut the bullshit." But what he was saying wasn't bullshit. It was what everyone was thinking, even me like something bad would happen to us today. I was concentrating, fixing the wires, when I saw the elevator suddenly go down, and three minutes later, a fellow engineer working on the ground came up and said that Stan had assembled all the engineers and asked me to come below. Since I planned to return, I left my tools and followed my engineer buddy to the office. When we did come in, one of the main architects who was working with Stan was talking about the grounds of this construction site. The architect told us to get ready to dig a hole and start setting the building's columns because now we need to lay the foundation for the building. We're in trouble. The digging would unearth the body of the child we had buried, and the architect, not knowing the truth, would surely call the police on us. Sensing that, Stan told the architect to give us 24 hours to "get ready." The architect left, and Stan told us to get the body now. We couldn't hide this anymore, and we also didn't want to go to jail, we now thought of collecting gasoline canisters and pouring them on the ground to dispose of the body. All that was left was to dig the grave again. The boss and two other people dug the hole again. At the same time, the rest of us surrounded the hole to ensure nobody was looking at the gravedigging process. 10 minutes later, maggots started showing up, and just as we thought we were at the burial ground, one of the architects suddenly gasped. "Where… Where did the body go? We already dug six feet under, where is his body?" What…? Six feet? Stan took a measuring tape and calculated the pit's depth, which, as his coworker said, was six feet. But there was no sign of the corpse, not even a bone of the boy, only maggots, and it wasn't possible for the corpse to rot completely for days. As we were looking at each other confused, Yate screamed from the top of the crane, and when we looked up, he was backed into a corner to the edge of the crane. Above him was a small creature dressed in red, wearing a cap... The child who died on the construction site days ago by him. Unbeknownst to him, the screams were coming toward us, and Yates was falling from the crane like a twisted puppet. When I looked up again, there was no sign of the boy. But others were moaning, as they did see what I saw. The dead boy was at the top of the crane, and his, that is supposed to be in the hole, not in the hole. Yates' body fell to the ground. His life ended there, and so did the fate of the diorama building. We all ran away from the construction site when Yates fell and died. His blood was spilling on a concrete table shaped like an altar, his body lying mangled next to it. The construction was halted there, and no one has returned to the site. And I suspect some people have been so horrified that they will never return to the city. Yates' death was labeled an accidental death, but we all know that it was a death sentence. I left the construction board and prepared to go to another city to find other work, and the day I was about to leave the hotel, Mr. Hanbal asked to speak to me for the last time. I followed him to his office, where Mr. Hanbal looked very depressed. He told me he was thinking of taking a long vacation and leaving the country for a while, and he decided to tell me his friend. When I asked him why, he told me he had learned that his son had died. I first sat down and held his hand to comfort him, and as I hugged him, I looked at the photo behind him. Mr. Hanbal was with his wife and son in front of an amusement park, the child we buried looking very happy. Mr. Hanbal asked me if he would visit me sometime in this city, and I replied yes. I don't think I'll ever see Mr. Hanbal again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16m9kco/i_worked_at_the_construct_site_for_diorama_tower/

nosleep

PlatinumOni

Today, I saw something Seeping into our World.

My name is John. I want a written account of what I saw and when I saw it because I believe something horrible will happen to me. If you’re reading this and have any help, please help me. These are the events, as I remember them, leading up to Friday. **Wednesday** “Happy nineteenth birthday!” My mother Anne shouted as I came downstairs. I had just woken up from a series of horrible nightmares, so seeing her face first thing in the morning was a welcomed surprise. I won the lottery a few months ago and used that money to move back in with my parents. I paid off their house, and it’s been like we’re all living on cloud nine. With all the money left over, I could move out whenever I wanted, but something about being close to family felt right. As I moved down the stairs, I scanned the living room for my father. He wasn’t in front of the TV like he is every morning. “He went to the thrift store.” My mom sighed as she waved her hand back and forth. She hated it when he went to that store. As far as she was concerned, he always came back with junk. “Well, at least he decided to leave the house.” I shrugged. My father wasn’t happy when he heard I had paid off their house. He always felt like it was his responsibility to do it. We had a small argument about it the day after they got the news. I told him I wanted to repay all the good things he did for me, but he wasn’t hearing it. My father can be a tough nut to crack. He couldn’t understand why I wanted to continue working after winning my money or why I never dated again after my last girlfriend passed. Everything with him leads to an argument. If going to the thrift store brings him some joy, I welcome him leaving. My dad was gone for about five hours, and during that time, my mom and I made dinner, put some food away for my father, and had a couple of snacks while watching TV. Everything was fine until my father pulled into the driveway. The tires screeched as he slammed on his brakes; he was at the front door within seconds. “John! Come help me move this item into the house.” He demanded. His voice carried across the whole house. Whenever he gets this loud, my mom can’t help but sigh. As I walked over to my father and followed him out of the front door, I paused on the steps. A huge clock was sitting in the bed of his truck! The thing was massive and honestly beautiful. I know my mom wouldn't be able to call the clock junk. The thing looked brand new! “Dad, how much did this thing cost?!” I exclaimed as I helped him unload the clock and bring it inside the house. “$100!” My father grinned. It sounded way too good to be true. My mom thought so, too, when we told her the price. But, after getting everything set up and cleaned up, the clock was working just fine. The grandfather clock had symbols carved all over the sides of it. The marks looked like they were part of the original design of the clock. Sitting at the top of the clock was a wooden lion's head. For the rest of the night, my dad told us how he got the clock for such a steal. The pawn shop was going out of business, and the clock was one of the last items they had in stock. After talking for a few more hours, we all rested upstairs. **Thursday → Mostly** I slept through Thursday. It felt like I was stuck in a dream. In my dream, I was walking down a long white hallway with doors on both sides of me, but everything was locked. The doors had no numbers or names on them. There was nothing I could do to tell any of the doors apart. In my head, it felt like I was walking for days. Once I noticed my feet dragging on the carpet, I looked down. The carpet had a triangle pattern, and each triangle was pointing forward. At one point, I wanted to turn around and head backward, but something was pulling me along. As I continued forward eventually, I could hear humming. “Hello?” I called into the darkness. “I’m here. Step forward.” A woman said back to me. Her voice was so calming to listen to; the best way I can describe it is she sounded so ethereal. I kept walking forward before arriving at my living room. “Who are you?” I asked her softly. I felt like an intruder. Like I was interrupting her day. “My name is Cleo. I apologize for scaring you, but I had to meet you. We had to talk.” Cleo said as she stood to meet me. She was wearing a long black dress with a huge black cloak. The only thing I could see of her body were her white arms. “Why did you have to talk to me?” I asked her. “Because something will kill your family tonight if you don’t wake up and get rid of the clock. Something evil is coming, and you're not prepared. No one is.” Cleo told me. “We are going to be attacked by a clock?” I asked her. “No. Something attached itself to the clock. Something big is coming.” Cleo clarified. It felt like I was looking at her for days. Like time was moving slowly and only got slower as we stood there. But I couldn’t ask her more questions. My mouth wouldn't move. I woke up later covered in sweat. It was approaching midnight, and I had no idea what to make of things. But I didn’t have much time to process it before I could hear my father screaming from downstairs. I have never heard him or anyone scream like that before. **Midnight → Friday** I jolted out of bed and grabbed the baseball bat next to my door before running towards the stairs. As my foot hit the top step, I felt my body fly forward. I slipped on something. As my shoulder hit the ground and I slid sideways, I felt my head slam off of the door behind me. There was something wet under my body. I slowly opened my eyes. Sitting in front of me was my mom's dismembered head. Her jaw was ripped open, most of it lying on the floor. Her eyes were rolled back, and some of her hair was missing. I screamed before scrambling to pull myself off the ground. I was hearing static. Nothing was real. It had to be part of my dream. The stairs were covered in blood. “Dad?” I managed to call out. That’s when I heard it—the clicking. I slowly moved on the balls of my feet and walked as slowly as I could to the living room. The clock was open! A black “mist” came from the inside of the clock. I turned my attention to the couch where the clicking was coming from. Slowly, something began to rise from the couch. It had my father's severed head in its hands. When our eyes met, the creature dropped my father's tongue. The beast had the outward appearance of a human but with bigger hands and longer fingers. It’s eyes were a bright white. When it saw me, its face opened down the middle. I still remember the cracking and pulling. That sound will be with me until the day I die. When its face was done opening, I was met with rows of sharp teeth, a long tongue, and what looked like a smaller set of eyes in the thing's mouth. I turned and ripped open the front door, barreling down the stairs and into the front yard. The living room window shattered behind me. I turned to look over my shoulder. The creature was following me! It briefly ran on its back legs before crouching and running on all fours. I took a sharp right turn and ran into the water. We live on a lake, and I hoped this beast couldn’t swim. I watched as it approached the edge of the water. It didn’t follow me, though. I swam out as far as I could while still keeping the creature in my line of sight. That’s when three black trucks came barreling down our street and onto the grass. I watched two men shoot at the creature while four others ran into my house. I took this opportunity to turn around and swim away. I managed to make it to the other side of the lake before stopping to rest. I checked my pockets to see if I had my phone. Luckily, I had my wallet. My cash was completely drenched, but I used my debit card to buy a prepaid phone and create this post. I haven't returned to my house yet, and I don’t think I ever will. I’ll keep you all updated when I [can](https://www.reddit.com/r/SpectralsMegaverse/).

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16m9ph3/today_i_saw_something_seeping_into_our_world/

nosleep

Spectral42

Experience with a stalker

Hi all, First, I'm sorry if I make some mistakes, English isn't my native language. I really wanted to share a story that happened to me three years ago. Let's begin. I'm a French girl, I'm 25 yo but I was 22 when it happened. I was living with my boyfriend (ex now) in a little flat in Paris. I was in a toxic and violent relationship. Moreover, I was suffering from a disease so I couldn't go out with friends. So I spent most of my free times on internet. I didn't have many friends, I was really lonely. As I couldn't go out, most of them abandoned me when I fell sick. The few friends that I had were living really far. One day, I had a big arguments with my boyfriend. I was really sad and lonely so I decided to chat with random people on a website. I met a guy, we had the same interest, we were both playing video games a lot. We talked for 6 month, everyday. He was knowing that I was in a relationship, even if it was a shitty one. Let's call him Alex. We decided to meet in real life. He was ok to meet me at my flat. At first, we were both really shy. But, thanks to alcohol, we talked and laughed together. I was so relieved that, finally, I was having a friend to talk with. We were seeing each other once per week. I remembered this as happy time. We had so many common points and he never forced me to go out. He was really helping me. And I was helping him. He was a depressed guy, he was thinking that he was ruining his own life. I wanted to help him as much as I could to give him self-esteem. I just wanted to spend good time with a good friend. For my 22th birthday, my boyfriend decided to make a party and he invited Alex as he was my only friends who were living not too far from my flat. And he invited 10 of his friends. I wasn't really happy with that. He knew that I didn't like when there's too many people, it tends to make me anxious and pressured. So, I spent my all night to cook, to serve his friends.. I couldn't enjoy the party. Then, my boyfriend humiliated me in front of everyone. I went to the bathroom to cry. Alex joined me and tried his best to comfort me. I was in a pure mental breakdown, so I told him everything about my boyfriend's behavior. I insisted on the fact that I loved him but I will break up when it will be the right time. (It was too dangerous to break up at this moment). As I was crying, he tried to kiss me. I stopped him, I didn't wanted to add a new problem in my life. It was already too difficult. I know that it's weird to say but, I was feeling betrayed. I was feeling that he was waiting this moment to try something. He didn't react, opened the door and gave me a gift. It was a really beautiful necklace. I told him that I couldn't accept it, it was too expensive. But he went out without a word. After this, I decided to put some distance between us. I didn't want to make him suffer. It's cruel to keep him as a friend if he wants more. I explained him that, if he wanted more, it will not be with me. I didn't wanted to cheat my bf. But, if one day, he wanted to talk to a friend, that he could contact me. I didn't heard about him after this. Few month later, I received texts from him. It was really long, something like 20 texto. He was saying that he was really in love with me, that he wanted to save me, that I was his reason to live. I was shocked at first, 'cause the way he said it was really creepy. I explained him one more time that I didn't needed to be saved, that I was an adult and, even my bf was "mean", I didn't wanted to break up. I wasn't feeling ready for this and that I wasn't in love with him. We exchanged texts for more than one hour but he didn't wanted to understand. Alex was insisting a lot, my phone bugged as I was receiving too many texto and phone call. It was making me too anxious, I decided to turn off my phone and I went to work. At this moment, I was working in a little restaurant. I was a waitress there and I was taking commands by phone. The phone was ringing, I picked up the phone. I heard breathing at first, then I recognized the voice. It was Alex's voice. I was feeling like I was in an horror movie. My bones freezed, my all body was shaking. I hung up almost immediately. But the phone ringed again, something like 10 times until my boss picked it up. It was 7pm, I was supposed to finish my work at midnight. At 11pm, I saw him. He came to my workplace and begged me to talk. I was so afraid, I couldn't talk. I ran into the kitchen, explained the situation to one of my coworker. He took my place as a waiter and I took him as cooker. Alex left 30 minutes later. I was too afraid to come home alone so my coworker dropped me off to my flat. My boyfriend was a night worker so I was alone. I locked my flat's door, blocked Alex's number and I was ready to call the cops. I didn't wanted to talk about it to my boyfriend. I already knew that he wouldn't help me or that he would accuse of being too provocative.. Moreover, I didn't wanted him to fight with Alex. Alex, to me, was just lost. He didn't deserved to be beaten by my boyfriend. The next day, I had more than 100 blocked calls. I didn't slept at all, I was exhausted. I was trying to not give him any attention. One month passed. He tried to come at my workplace many times but my boss talked to him and called the cops. Then he never came back there. He was still harassing me but I was ignoring. I thought that he'll understand and finally leave me alone. I was afraid so I tried to lodge a complaint with the police but they refused it, as it was just "a guy who's in love". One day, I woke up to go to work. My boyfriend was playing online video games. He received a message. That was Alex. In this text, he was saying that he was in love with me, that we had sex many times, that I was a cheater and many many stuff like that. I was so shocked, I didn't understand what was happening. My brain freezed, I couldn't react. But, thanks to God, my boyfriend saw my "blocked call". He was suspecting that Alex was harassing me for a long time, even if I never told him. He decided to block him too then he went to work. My boss called me, he told me that I will begin two hours later today. I was alone at my flat. Idk how to explain it but, I was feeling that something will be happening, my heart was racing, I was feeling nauseous. Then, I heard my doorbell. One time, two times, three times, ten times. I couldn't stand and walk. My all body was freezing. I was feeling the tears on my face, but I couldn't react. I felt like all of this was a nightmare. I waited, the most silently as possible. As he was stalking me for a long time, he knew that I was supposed to work at this hour. I thought that he wanted to see my boyfriend to manipulate him. As he wanted me to be single, that was the best way. Door bell again. I was supposed to go out to work.. I took all my courage, and I went out. It was him. He was crying. At this moment, I wasn't afraid anymore. I was so angry. I began to shout on him. He was trying to explain that he was so in love with me, he would die if I didn't give him a chance. He said that he talked to my boyfriend, so like this, he will finally save me. And that, even if I don't want to be with him, my boyfriend would have kill him so he wouldn't suffer anymore. Moreover, he admitted that he hacked my Facebook and Instagram account, so that he knew that I wasn't hating him. (I talked about the situation to my best friend. I was saying to her that Alex was just unstable but not mean. That I was more sad than angry about his behavior and stuff like that.. Stupid me). I decided to run out. But he was following me and grabbed my arms when I was trying to escape by the stairs. I hit him, I begged him to let me go. I cried like never in my whole life. I was terrorized, angry, I just wanted to escape and run as far as possible. He pushed me against a door and told me those words : "If you refuse to have a conversation with me, I'll go to your boyfriend's workplace. I will talk to him, then he will hate you as much as I love you. Maybe he will kill me but that doesn't matter." I was trapped. I couldn't escape. I didn't wanted to call the cops as they didn't helped me at first. I decided to accept to have a conversation with him, outside, after my work. He calmed down instantly, thanked me and went out. When I arrived to work, I was still shaking. I explained everything to my coworker and boss. My coworker decided to stay in his car after work, in front of the restaurant so, if I needed help, he would be there. At the end of my work, Alex was here. We sat outside, and talked. He was repeating what he said to me millions times already, again and again. Then I interrupted him calmly and said that nothing will ever happen between us, that I was afraid by him and that he was poisoning my life. Moreover, he was putting me in danger. He stopped. It looked like he finally realized what he was doing. He putted something out of his bag. It was a really big package. He gave it to me. It was full of expensive items. I told him that I didn't want to accept it. He first told me that he bought this for me so he couldn't keep it as it will be a reminder of me. Then he kinda blackmailed me by saying that, if I accepted this, he will not contact me ever again. I accepted, I was tired, I just wanted to go home and finally sleep. Then, he said goodbye and went out. Sadly, that's not the end of the story. Two weeks later, I was sleeping at one of my coworker's place who became one of my most precious friend. At 5am, I heard my phone ringing. I was too tired to answer. But I heard it again. And again. And again. It was some text from an unknown number. I opened it, and the first thing I saw was blood. Then there was a long text but I didn't had the time to read ur as I received other pics. There was blood everywhere on the pics. I woke up my friend, I showed her the pics, I was shaking so much, I couldn't understand what was happening. I received 31 pictures of mutilated arms, torso and legs. On the last of them, I saw Alex's face. It was Alex again. I called Alex's mother to explain her what was happening. I recognized his bedroom on the pics. Then my friend put my phone far from me. She was hugging me, I was feeling so guilty, thinking that everything was my fault. Almost one hour later, I did not receive any text or call which was making me even more anxious. I thought that he was dead. Suddenly, my phone ringed again. I received a video of him, in an hospital bed. He was trying to talk but almost everything was understandable except few words like love and promises. Alex tried to commit suicide. He took many drugs and cutted himself. He was diagnosed as bipolar with personality disorder. He stayed few month at the psychiatric clinic. The last thing I heard about him was that, he's on treatment and he's feeling better. I received a last text, last year. It was just a sorry. Since this day, I moved out. I have a new work, a new house, in a different city with a different boyfriend. Even if I'm still traumatized by it, I do think that, Alex is not the "bad guy". In France, psychiatric trouble are taken too lightly. Alex needed help and I really hope from the bottom of my heart that he's feeling better now. Thanks all for reading. I know that it was a long story. I hope that my English was understable.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j1nqm2/experience_with_a_stalker/

LetsNotMeet

[deleted]

A Home Intruder Came Into My Room One Night

So I started reading the posts here and I realized that my story would fit in well, so here goes. I am a 27 year old woman, and this happened to me 9 or 10 years ago, when I was a senior in high school. We lived in a pretty large house, but my siblings were all away at college or boarding school, so it was only my parents and I in the house. I am a crazy light sleeper. So when I woke up in the dark and saw my alarm clock flashing 3:11 am, I wasn't too surprised. However, I was *wide* awake, not just groggily stirring in my sleep. I lay there, wondering what had woken me, when I heard very soft footsteps on the stairs outside my bedroom. The door to my room was parallel to the left side of the bed, and I happened to be laying with my back to the door. When the footsteps approached my door, I thought it must be one of my parents, checking on me for some reason. Then the doorknob was turned, so, so slowly. Still, I thought they were just trying not to wake me. The door began to open, again, slowly and carefully. It made a creaking noise, no matter how slowly it was opened, so the person finally just shoved it the rest of the way, to silence the creak. Still, my naïve brain thought it was one of my parents. Until they clicked on a flashlight. I froze. Terror flooded me, and I remember that I instantly broke out in sweat. They were behind me, and I was facing away, so they couldn't see my eyes wide open as they shone the beam straight on me. I always used to think that if something like that ever happened, I would be such a bad ass and I would whip out of bed and punch them, attack them, shout, scream, do SOMETHING. But I could do nothing at all. All I could do was try to keep my breathing deep and even, despite the pounding of my heart, so that the intruder wouldn't know I was awake. After about 10 seconds, they finally moved the light away. I prayed and begged and bartered with anything that would listen to me as the intruder walked around my room, looking at my things. I could vaguely see their shape, large and bulky, like they were wearing two coats. They had a baseball cap on. They didn't shine the flashlight on me again, and after a few minutes, which felt like an eternity, they left my room. I could still hear them, though, walking around the rest of the second floor, through my siblings empty bedrooms. I was still sweating, still frozen in terror, not knowing what to do. I wanted to grab my phone and call my dad, sleeping downstairs. I wanted to call our landline, so that the phone would ring and wake my parents up. I wanted to call the police, I wanted to get up and run from my room, I wanted to cry, but I couldn't do any of those things. I was afraid that they would hear me, and I didn't know if they had a weapon and would try to hurt me or my parents. I wouldn't wish such helpless terror on my worst enemy. I don't know how, but I must have passed out from fear, or the adrenaline wore off and I fell asleep somehow, because the next thing I knew it was 6 am, and I could hear my parents downstairs. I ran downstairs, and as calmly as I could, I asked them if one of them had been in my room last night. Their faces went blank, and they said no, they hadn't. That was the last straw. I broke down in sobs and told them "Then someone was in my room last night." Even as I type this, my hands have begun shaking and I've teared up. The police were called, even though there was little they could do at that point. Apparently, when my parents woke up, all of the doors to the outside were standing wide open, and there was a duffel bag at the bottom of the stairs. All that was inside was a coil of nylon rope, and an empty USB flashdrive. I don't want to think about what it was for. The intruder hadn't taken anything, and we have no idea why they left in what appeared to be a hurry. It took me about a week to be able to sleep in my own room, a sanctuary which felt violated and frightening to me now. I carry pepper spray, sleep with a machete next to my bed, and double check my locks every night. Hopefully this will never happen again, but if it does, hopefully I won't freeze. It's been 10 years, and my most common nightmare is that someone is in my room, standing in the shadows, watching me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/j0yw0x/a_home_intruder_came_into_my_room_one_night/

LetsNotMeet

ArtSasquatch

Nearly abducted while abroad

A couple years ago I (21F) was solo backpacking in France and made a day trip out to Versailles from Paris. You have to take two separate trains to both get out there and get back. I got on my first train heading back from Versailles and my phone was at 3% so I had it on airplane mode and low power, but had my headphones in without anything playing to deter people from approaching me. John didn’t care. He came over and sat beside me, speaking to me in French. I’d been walking around the gardens all day and wasn’t really in the mood to entertain anyone, so I pretended I didn’t understand French. He pulled out his phone and went onto google translate, asking if I wanted to learn French. I responded with “No, thank you”, and went to put my headphones back in and appear even more uninterested since my body language wasn’t enough for him. He continued to ask me questions through his phone, the next one being “where are you sleeping?”. I lied and said that I was in a large hotel with my family and was heading back to them. He asked where it was and all I replied with was “Paris”. He then asked if I was getting off at a specific stop of the subway which I said yes to (another lie), and he said that he’d go with me. I immediately said no and ended the conversation. I got my headphones in and completely closed him off from talking to me, which prompted him to leave me alone for a couple minutes. He then got a phone call and said to his friend “Yeah, I’ll get off at X stop, and you go to Y stop”. This set off the DANGER DANGER alarm in my head because Y stop is the actual stop I was getting off at. We got to the transfer station and he got up and off the train and waited for me at the doors. I took my sweet ass time getting up and making sure I had everything, to the point that it was very obvious I was doing it on purpose. He then left to get on the other train, and I slowly made my way off and to the next train. I mean PAINFULLY slowly. I got on the train at the very front and was watching everyone around me to make sure that nobody was being suspicious or watching me, to the point that they all probably thought I was on something. We got to X stop and I’m watching the people going off and coming on, as well as anyone on the platform, but I see no sign of him or anyone paying much attention to me. We get to stop Y and I get off with the crowd, turn the corner, and he’s there with four friends SCANNING everyone coming out. I turned around so fast and went the exact opposite way, taking my hair out of my bun and trying to change my appearance as much as I possibly could. As soon as I got out of the train station I RAN back to my hostel and refused to leave it unless I was with one of my roommates. sorry you got outsmarted by a Dumb Blonde dude but let’s never meet again xoxo.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/izy88x/nearly_abducted_while_abroad/

LetsNotMeet

kmann234

Just passing through...

Just passing through The first job I had was at a pizza place in my hometown. It’s a really small town with a little over 1,000 people. We’re right next to a main highway thats about 30 minutes away from a major city. One night around September-October, I’m working with 2 other coworkers and our manager. Our whole shift had been pretty slow and we were getting ready to close at 9:00pm. Around 8:30pm two men and a little girl (around the age of 7 or 8) come in. I go up to the front and ask them if they need help with anything or if they’re going to place an order. One of the men (the shorter one) says that they are just passing through he then asks about the prices of different items on the menu, he also asks what time we close. I answer and he just says okay and walks away to sit down with the little girl at a booth. The taller man then leaves the building and gets into their car parked out front. The smaller man gets up after about 5 minutes whispers something to the little girl than leaves. My coworkers and I are watching this all go down and talking about how strange it is. The little girl gets up and starts dancing around to the radio station we have playing. After a couple minutes of this I walk up to her and ask her if she’s hungry or if she wants a drink. She says she only wants a water, which I get for her she takes it back to the booth and sits down. I ask her who she’s waiting on and she says her “dad”. My coworkers and I are starting to get worried for her because the two men haven’t came back yet and it’s 8:50pm. We start to think that neither one of them is her “dad” at all. My manager decides to call the police. (Our town is too small for our own police station so we have to wait for them to come from the next town over, which takes at least 15 minutes). I go to sit with her at the booth, I’m making small talk with her trying to make sure she’s safe and nothing happens before the cops can get there. In the middle of our conversation she gets up and says she has to leave, my manager and I try to tell her she needs to stay in the restaurant until her “dad” comes back but she starts crying and screaming and insists on leaving. A couple days later my manager said the cops found her walking down the road alone later that night. We never heard anymore information about the situation afterwards, I just hope she’s safe now. Dear men who are “just passing through” let’s not meet again...

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/izw41w/just_passing_through/

LetsNotMeet

lkohler1

Almost Kidnapped

So looking into my past I've realised I've had a few stories that could fit into this subreddit. This one I think about a lot and how my life could've changed in a split second decision so easily. At the time I was quite young maybe around 6-7 years old, but I still remember it so perfectly, I was in Central London for the day with my family and it was getting to the evening so we had begun heading home. We don't live too far out of Central London so we were just going to get a taxi to the nearest train station and head back from there. Being so young, inexperienced with the world, and plain stupid when we got out of the taxi at the train station I thought it was custom to wave goodbye to taxi drivers as they drove off... yeah, stupid. So after I'd finished waving goodbye to this complete stranger of a taxi driver I turned around and saw my family completely gone, vanished out of thin air. I was so young I had no idea what had just happened. They just suddenly weren't anywhere to be seen, being a short kid everyone was like giants at this age it was terrifying. At that moment everything I ever learnt about stranger danger completely went out the window and no longer mattered.. I was just terrified. So I remember choosing to sit in the middle of the pavement and do the only thing I knew how to and just cry, hoping my parents would soon find me. 'Are you okay?' I looked up to the side and saw a man sat on a bench next to me, but sat in the way where his bum was on the backrest bit and his feet were on the seat, making him completely tower over me. I remember the image of him so so clearly. 'Ive lost my family' 'Let me help you find them' I can't remember the exact conversation very well; except for the next thing he said 'I think I saw them go this way, follow me' That line has stuck with me ever since. He stood up and took hold of my hand and started leading me down the road. Completely oblivious and just glad that I had an adult with me now I just calmly went with him. Just as he was about to lead me round a corner of a building, I heard a voice call my name. My brother, only being 2 years older than me at the time, had come running out of the train station and seen me just before I was about to completely disappear out of sight around another road in London. A few seconds later running outside and there's no way he would've seen me. My parents followed and quickly ran out too, grabbing me away from the man making sure I was okay. I don't remember what happened to the man after that, part of my memory says he quickly ran away after my family got me, another part tells me that he stayed and explained to my parents his course of events. None of us really remember, I just know that I'm so lucky I didn't go round that corner with him, I always think how different my life could've been if I did. Thinking about it, the station entrance was only a few meters from where I'd sat down to cry, it wasn't that busy. The man must've seen my family go into the station, but that's one thing I'll luckily never know the answer to.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iz9a2f/almost_kidnapped/

LetsNotMeet

AuroraxSky

Obsessive people have no boundaries.

A few years ago while on winter break from my university, I was staying in my hometown with my family. I had an extended break from school, longer than my other friends in college, and I wanted to get out of my house. I had been speaking to a guy a few years older than me, and he invited me over to his place. I met him through a combination of mutual friends and social media. I figured, since he knew some of my friends, he wouldn't do anything... crazy. I show up to his apartment and one of the first things I notice is a baseball bat haphazardly studded with nails. He jokingly opened the door with it in his hands. I start to get nervous. All ends fine, though. We watch TV, chat, play with his dog, and everything else seems normal - albeit very boring. We fuck, and I leave in one piece. He ghosts me for about 3 weeks after that, while claiming he's sick. He ditches plans we have and I move on. The night before I leave for university, he told me found something of mine (very, very important thing I had left there on accident). I quickly drive over, late at night, in hopes to just grab it and go. I do manage to get it, but not before he breaks down crying about how much he misses me. He's clearly upset I'm leaving, even though he had decidely ignored me for 3 weeks. He said he made a huge mistake by not seeing me sooner and by flaking on our plans. Very weird, and I'm incredibly uncomfortable. He goes on to speak about his ex girlfriend, and how terrible she was. How I'm nothing like her, and he needs me in his life. I do my best to politely shut him up before skirting my ass out of there. I remember laughing so hard the entire drive home, because if I didn't I would have panicked out of fear. The next day, I flew back to college many states away. A few weeks later, he starts messaging me again - normal things at first. How are you? How's the semester? I answer maybe 2 out of 20 texts. 2 p.m. messages turn into 3 am messages. Those messages then turn into frequent phone calls. Now at this point, I hadn't been answering for months. Every time I think he's done and he hasn't contacted me in a while, it happens again. I blocked him over, and over, and over. Each time, he found a new way to call or text or DM or whatever. He said things like: he loves me, he misses me, he's going to come and visit me. He's depressed and really needs someone to talk to. He's crying or he's drunk or he's somewhere in between. He's sober and calling me a cunt, or worse. It was all over the place. I felt safe enough since I was so far away (1,500+ miles). I didn't think anything would come out of it. It was always just a funny story to tell my friends. One day, I was on the bus browsing Tinder and guess who popped up. Super liked me. 1 mile away from my campus. Holy fuck. I started panicking. Theres no way he's here! Mind you, this person knew NO ONE in the entire state except for me. He worked in a restaurant and would not have traveled there for work. Theres no reason for him to be within 600 miles of me. Absolutely none. Yet there he was. I frantically check all my social media DMs and see a message from him on Twitter, even though he's blocked. He must have been saving this account to contact me on a rainy day, and it really got to me. The DM read: Hey! For some reasons why you hate me. I'm in [your city] right now. I was hoping you can show me around? I miss you. Unblock me. I text my close friends to add him on snapchat, in hopes they can monitor his location. He ends up passing my residence building, but thankfully not finding me. He's by himself the entire time. He went to some popular spots in the city, but didn't post much at all. For a week I stayed locked in my room - absolutely terrified he'd try to bypass the dorm security and knock on my door. He didn't find me, but I bet he tried. I still wonder why he was in my city that week - was he trying to hunt me down? Was he... trying to vacation!? Mind you, this city is NOT a place for tourists. And its definitely not like Los Angeles or NY where people are coming and going all the time. People have work, school or family reasons when coming to this city. So, to the guy who barely knew me for 3 weeks but still thinks he loves me to this day nearly 4 years later, let's not meet (again). TL;DR One night stand turns into obsessive messages. Person shows up on Tinder in my city, 1 mile away from my dorm, and 1,500 miles from where we met. It was no coincidence.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ize560/obsessive_people_have_no_boundaries/

LetsNotMeet

averageheadass

my strangest encounter

About a year ago, I was working on my designportfolio and needed some art supplies, mainly some clay for a project i had been working on for about 2 months and a bunch of markers. It was sometime in the week i decided to head to my favorite arts and supply store, which is located in a "warehouse" area of town. Basically no houses, just some warehouses and other large scale industrial buildings. Normally i would take my car and ride to the store and back, as i never really liked walking in that area and i always felt uneasy in the dark of german winters. However my Girlfriend had taken the car to another town for an internship, so i was forced to take the train. When i left my Flat, i walked the 5 minutes it takes to the trainstation whilst listening to some music. The trainstaintion was crowded and i waitet on a bench for the train to arrive. And as german trains do, it was very late. When i got to my stop it was almost dark out and i dreadded walking to the arts store. However the walk to the store was fine, i was walking alone no light but my phone was on, i had some music and i only had 10 minutes to walk. At the Store i picked up about 12 pounds of caly and a bunch of markers as well as some spraycans. When i left the store it was almost completely dark out and since the area had barely any streetlights i started to feel uneasy. With 12 pounds of clay in a bag, i didnt really go that fast. after about 4 minutes or so of walking my phone died, i stopped to check if it was really dead or was just bugging. I was very angry at myself for not charging it before leaving home. Whilst standing there someone walked by me very quickly. I didnt get a good look at him, but he seemed very eratic, and his movement reminded me of someone high on some sort of drugs, after about 5 seconds he took a turn and was gone from sight. I picked up my bag and went on my way. About a minute or two later the same man walked towards me again, since there was only one walkway i couldnt change sides or walk away from him. In my mind he just bought some drugs or sold some, and i didnt really want to know. This time he passed me and just stared at me, with this deranged psychotic stare. This time i got scared, not only was he taller than me (m/ 6,4 / 180) but also way more muscular than me. After taking another 10-20 steps i looked back to check where he was, hoping he was further down the road. When i looked back he was barely 10 meters away from me and was walking very fast. I only had about 100 more meters until i was at the trainstation. I shouldve just dropped the clay, but i didnt and ran with the clay in hand. When i started running i could hear him running after me. I reached the trainstation steps, and flew up them. Feeling like he was still on my heels. At the top of the stairs were a bunch of people, and i felt safe enough to look down the stairs, he was noowhere to be seen. I took the next Train home and never saw him again. I dont know what his intentions were and honsestly dont even want to know. ​ So, Strager that tried to hunt me down, lets not meet again

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iz5anp/my_strangest_encounter/

LetsNotMeet

[deleted]

The Coworker with the name obsession.

Hi, I joined Reddit specifically to get this off my chest. It happened this time last year, and to this day every time I think about it, it gives me chills. So I wanna start off by saying I still work for this company and I still have anxiety every time I go into work. The company is huge, one of the biggest names in the world. For privacy purposes I’m going to call it The Big Cheese, or Big C. I also want to mention that I have crippling social anxiety, I credit to being homeschooled most of my life. This will make more sense later. Well September of last year I was fresh out of High school and looking for work. I needed this job immediately because I was living with my S/O, and we were barely getting by. My father, my grandfather, they both either work or worked for this company for a long period of time, and it is something that garnered a lot of respect in my family. So of course I was thrilled when I got my first interview! It went great and I was all set to start training, which involved a few classes and on the job training. The classes were awkward to say the least, but nonetheless informative. Well after the classes we had our first task, join a group of fellow trainees and tour the work environment. This is when I first met Creepy Coworker. He was in the very back of my group, seemed a little shy and didn’t really talk to the rest of the group unless he was trying to make an awkward joke to join in. At first I kind of just felt bad for him, he seemed harmless but definitely awkward and out of the loop. Knowing as much as I did going into the company, I made the effort to inform him, and keep him updated with what the trainers were asking of us. He just seemed so lost and confused. I thought I was doing a good thing by helping him out, even my S/O thought so at the time. The Training went by without any hiccups, and soon we were given the location of where we’d start out. Ironically enough the only person that I had gotten to know, creepy coworker; had the same area I did. Realizing that we’d start out together and both didn’t know anyone, we decided to exchange phone numbers. This was so that we could both meet up the next week (starting day), so we wouldn’t get lost. I thought nothing of this when he asked for my number, and just assumed it was more because he was nervous and didn’t know anyone besides me. Boy did I live to regret that. The first day of training we met up at basically a flag pole so that we could wait for our on the job trainer, Christie. When he got off the employee shuttle, he started texting me asking where I was. I was in the smoking section a little ways away, killing my fears with a cigarette. I texted back telling him where I was and he asked if he could join. I didn’t like how nervous I felt so I wasn’t very comfortable with anyone joining me during this time of reprieve. But I saw him coming over anyways, so I scooted over to make room on the bench. This didn’t matter, because apparently he was going to sit as close as possible to me anyways. I hate touch, or people being in my personal bubble, being a victim of other trauma, touch was something only people very close to me have permission to do. Creepy Coworker then proceeded to ask me if he could bum a cigarette, and I’m not good at saying no, so I gave him one. After he lit up he handed me my lighter (that I didn’t even notice he took from the top of my bag) back to me. Again, I kind of just ignored the unwarranted invasion of my space. We talked since we had about thirty minutes to kill, we talked about the normal stuff like, how do you feel about the company, where do you want to end up in it? I noticed he was wearing tattoo covering sleeves and so I asked him about his tattoos. He pulled down the sleeves and started going over almost each and every one. All something to do with either a love interest or something geeky. I listened out of mild curiosity but quickly got uncomfortable when he started pulling out his phone to show me pictures of ones he drew. I was uncomfortable because he kept showing me pictures of himself as well. Mostly photos of him shirtless and I didn’t really find that appropriate. He mentioned he was a marine and that he had gained too much weight after his last tour. I apologized out of sympathy but suggested that it was nothing to be ashamed of. Unfortunately after that he kept smiling at me in a way I deemed to be admiration. I had seen this look from my fiancé so I knew somewhere I had effed up. I quickly turned the conversation to more appropriate stuff like music taste. He seemed interested in what music I liked a little too much, and decided he should make me a playlist. I said it really wasn’t necessary but he insisted. Later into that very day during training he kept purposely doing kind things, like taking heavy boxes from my hands, or taking the odd jobs he deemed “too grueling for a lady”. I was a little annoyed but mostly just glad most of the jobs meant that he’d have to go to a different area and give me some space. He’d always find a way back to appear beside me and scare me. I hate being scared, and he laughed it off every time. I was more than uncomfortable at this point and a nervousness had settled in the pit of my stomach. At the end of the night after we’d been sent to go home and come back the next day, he decided to walk me out. We’d walk back through the maze my work place actually is, all the way to the employee costume center/lockers. It was there we had gotten our work costumes and stored our regular clothes in lockers. Well, I was having trouble remembering the combination and I couldn’t find the little slip of paper that told me it. Creepy Coworker came up and smirked at me, seemingly waiting for me to finish up. I thought he had left by this point so I wasn’t expecting him to show up. After a few tries he reached over and out the combination of my lock in for me. This was a serious red flag for me, he had already memorized my combination and now I felt as though my privacy was completely gone. Again, I’m awkward and unsure of what to do in any situation like this, so I thanked him but suggested that he let me figure it out next time. I was hoping he would so that he would forget my combination. Remember this for later!! After changing back into my regular clothes in the girls locker room, I came out and he was still waiting for me. I asked him why he had waited when he could have just gotten home sooner, to which he replied, “Because I’m a gentleman and a lady should be walked to her car so she can be kept safe.” I told him my S/O was waiting to pick me up. He asked where, and I told him down the street like an idiot. I still don’t know why I complied with this creep as much as I did, but I had never been in a situation like this one. He told me that was too far for me to walk and that it wasn’t safe, so he offered to drive me over to my S/O’s car. Due to how tired I was and how much I aches from the day, I just didn’t have the strength to argue. I mean he was creepy but nice. I chalked up the creepiness to him just being awkward. So, without anything else weird happening, he took me to my S/O whom I had been texting the entire time just to let him know where I was and what was going on. I had a deep gut feeling that I should text him everything I knew about the guy so I did. When we pulled up I immediately got out of the car, my BF sat there leaning against the car with his arms crossed. He wasn’t very happy about him giving me a ride, but nonetheless thanked the creepy coworker for getting me over to him safely. The coworker nodded, seeming to smirk at my BF the whole time. This was when My bf first got a bad feeling about the guy. So we got home and my BF warned me about the guy, telling me he wasn’t getting a good vibe from the creepy coworker. It was not even three minutes after that, I got a text from The coworker. He started sending me songs and memes, and telling me things like “I really feel like you get me.” Now, I was deeply concerned. What the hell did I get myself into, why did I have to be so god damn nice to people. The following day at work I was on the last day of training, and I had a massive pain attack. I have a chronic illness, and the situation ended with none of my managers listening to me when I told them that the pain doesn’t last and comes and goes. They proceeded to rush me to the emergency room. A stretcher carried me through work while I was crying and trying to his my face. The costumers where quick to take out their phones and film the whole thing. It was one of the worst experiences of my life, but what happens next is worse. I received about twenty texts from Creepy Coworker, asking me how I was. At this point I was done, I just didn’t respond. After a few random memes, he started texting me that he was drunk and thinking about not going home to his wife. This was the first time he’d ever mentioned to me he even had a wife. I was dumbfounded. Why was he so concerned about me when he had someone he obviously loved enough to marry?? I didn’t respond, I went to bed. In the morning I woke up to my bf looking at my phone in anger. My heart sank and I could only imagine what Creepy Coworker had sent now. My BF showed me the only text I had gotten since the night before, it was from his wife texting me from his phone. She wrote me a message explaining that Creepy Coworker had a problem getting attached to women. She warned me that I should stay away from him, and then told me her name...my name. It was after that she had explained my name was a thing for him, all of his exes had the same name. Now at this point my BF was telling me not to go back to this job, that it wasn’t worth it. But that’s not me, I wasn’t going to let one creep ruin this opportunity for me. This job meant the world to me, and I never wanted to let it go. So I told him if this continues that I’d go to HR. But in all honesty I didn’t really want to go to HR. I was the new girl, I didn’t want the first month on the job to be me fighting a harassment case. Biting my nails the whole way, I went to work. Suddenly Creepy Coworker wasn’t hovering anymore, I thought this might have been him being embarrassed. I was pretty convinced I wasn’t going to have a problem after that, big mistake. On my lunch break, he made sure to go on his lunch early and come find me. His normally enthusiastic attitude was gone. Replaced by what felt like anger. I was scared. He came up to me and let me know that his wife was full of shit and just angry because he was divorcing her. At this point I didn’t want anything to do with him so I kept quiet hoping he’d take the hint. NOPE. He told me he had a gift for me and that he’d give it to me after the shift, quickly walking away before I could respond. After my shift, I go outside the work area to the lockers. I had waited an extra hour and half, even taking a closing position from a coworker, just so he’d go home before me. Well, my lock wasn’t locked all the way and I was now freaked out. I opened the locker, to grab my bag and go, but noticed it. A rolled up piece of drawing paper, (I know what kind it was because I myself am an artist.) unrolling it, It was a naked girl. A naked girl that resembled my video game character on World Of Warcraft. I had briefly mentioned my wow addiction to my group on the first group training day. I didn’t even realize he had heard any of that, much less memorized the information. Suddenly, he walks up even though he should be long gone by then, and confronts me. He asks me if I like it and because he seemed angry I said yes. I suggested he didn’t do it anymore as my BF wouldn’t like this kind of gift at all. He rolled his eyes and playfully giggled at me like I was joking with him. I wasn’t. Not only did he follow me the whole way out of the work grounds, he got on the employee shuttle that I got on to have witnesses. He sat right next to me, leaning on me. I felt like a dear in headlights, mentally begging someone to suggest that he shouldn’t be that close to me. No one paid any attention, instead I spent the whole drive trying to get this man to pull his arm off of my shoulders. I felt nauseated and my head was spinning. After we got off I practically dashed off the bus, and ran to my BF who parked the car at the entrance to the employee parking zone. I got in the car and told him to go. He took off and I started crying. I told my BF and he was pissed. He wanted to turn around and punch creepy Coworker, but I talked him out of it through tears. I promised that I’d talk to my managers after that. Well I kept looking for the right time to pull a manager aside but never got a chance the next night I went in. Now Creepy Coworkers attitude did another 1-80, and he was being extremely, weirdly, playful. THEN HE CROSSED THE FINAL LINE. He grabbed my butt where costumers could easily see him. My coworkers kind of laughed and though it was a game. Because this time I was pissed and pushed to my limit. I went after him, I legitimately punched him in the ass and shouted in his face, “How do you like that, huh?” Seething, he seemed unfazed by my anger. Instead he laughed it off and winked at me. I went down into the basement for the employee bathroom, and quickly threw up the contents of my stomach. I cried in the stall, praying to God that this would stop. I quickly made an excuse, used my chronic illness, and went home. So fast forward a few weeks, he had completely swapped out his shifts so he wouldn’t work with me. I felt like I had won the battle. I sent a message and he realized he’d crossed boundaries. Until the night before Christmas Eve. I had a terrible feeling as my bf was driving me to work that night. I mean I felt gross. I got to work and he was there. Flirting with other girls, suddenly having this big ego I had never seen him display before. Like I said when I met him he was shy and awkward. It’s like his personality flipped every time I had to see him. I never knew which side of CC I was gonna get. That night he actually stomped off as all of the other coworkers including myself closed the joint. We were scrubbing like normal, and he didn’t seem all together. So he clocked out early, and I relaxed. I figured he had gotten in trouble since one of our four managers seemed to be upset that he’d clocked out without permission. I was there extra late, the evening festivities were done with for the night and my zone was pretty much closed off from costumers. So, I walked through the massive property that is my work, to get to the street. I had started taking new ways to meet my BF who picked me up, just so I couldn’t be followed. This time I was going to walk straight out of the grounds and onto the street where the bus stops were and my BF would be waiting at the curb. I was about halfway through my (approximately) 12 minute walk. And I was in a dark area. Out of nowhere, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed, Creepy Coworker shows up. He starts yelling my name and following me from behind, I pretend to not notice and walk faster. He yells my name again and seems angrier. So, I sprint for it. I sprint all the way to cross the shuttle zone and end up crashing into someone chest. Thank God it was actually my BF who had a really bad feeling and wanted to be as close to my work exit as possible. I look back and Creepy Coworker got on a shuttle but was staring from the window, smiling like a Cheshire cat the whole time. Never in my life had I been so terrified. After that the next night was Christmas Eve and I was supposed to work. But I just knew if I went in something bad was going to happen to me. So crying the whole time because I knew I had earned a bunch of points for calling out to avoid him. I cried asking the lady on the phone if I was gonna get fired and she said she honestly couldn’t say. I respected that but knew I wasn’t done. I wasn’t going to let this f**king creep make me loose the job I had worked so hard to get. Even changing my appearance to fit their strict standards! No, so I wrote to the only person I could think of, my Trainer Christie. She was a lead and she is the kindest girl you’d ever meet. Heart of gold, you just knew being her friend meant that you’d have a trusted confidant for life. I told her everything, I sent her the screenshots of the texts sent to me. I finally told someone with an ounce of leadership that I was scared to go to work. Immediately she responded and asked if she could tell the managers, and even though I was incredibly nervous I told her yes. The next day I was pulled in, and God Bless my ex Manager Christopher. Because he was shocked at everything that had happened to me, and quickly helped me write a report for HR. He led me through the steps, and even changed the schedule so I wouldn’t work with creepy Coworker unless he specifically traded shifts. TWO MONTHS GO BY. I am well acquainted with the responsibilities for my work at this point and I’m comfortable, but of course there’s no stoping a stalker. He had traded a shift and was working the night shift with me. He was angry every time he looked at me, and I avoided him at all costs. Then, around half way through my shift I’m down in the basement coming back from the restroom. I’m walking up the steps that lead back to my work area, and then I feel someone behind me. Before I could think a clear thought I was pushed against the wall, hand beside my head. He leans in and says, “you should smile more.” Then the bastard chuckles and walks away. I feel pretty hysterical at this point and run to the closest lead, crying and trying to explain what happened. It was at this point that my manager Christopher, pissed off that HR was taking so long to investigate my case, went to them to speed it up. Well after four months of an interview process with HR, finally the case was resolved and not only was he let go, but I was doing really well in my job finally. Nothing to worry me into not paying attention to my duties. Creepy Coworker has left me alone ever since, but sometimes I get random friend requests from guys with no pictures and always similar names, always close to his name. Creepy Coworker, leave me alone or you won’t like the results. I won’t be intimidated ever again and I will win every battle you throw at me. Let’s not meet, ever again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iylzyu/the_coworker_with_the_name_obsession/

LetsNotMeet

TheArtistWhoCould

Paper Delivery Route

When I was a teenager, I got my very first job, which was a newspaper delivery route that I would do after school twice a week. I really enjoyed the job when I began it, and would occasionally interact with the people who I was delivering the newspapers to, and they all seemed friendly during our short interactions. I had cart that fit all of the newspapers for my route in it, which I would drag down the sidewalk. I had had my route for several months, when one afternoon I was doing my route, and a man was walking down the sidewalk. He greeted me, stated that I must be the newspaper girl, and asked if I had delivered a newspaper to his house yet, pointing at it down the street. I replied that I hadn't. He suggested that I pass him his newspaper there, rather than needing to go down his driveway to deliver it in a few minutes. I handed him a paper, and expected him to continue walking along to his house. I bent down to grab more newspapers out of my cart, and thought that I felt something hit my butt. When I straightened back up, he was walking away from me, with his newspaper rolled up in his hand. At the time, I really hadn't expected anyone to intentionally hit me on the butt with a rolled up newspaper, and dismissed it as either an accident or a figment of my imagination. The next week, while doing my route, he was sitting on his front deck, and watched me walk down the sidewalk, delivering newspapers to his neighbours. When I came down his driveway, he wolf-whistled at me, and said, "Here comes the mermaid." I came up onto his deck to hand him the newspaper, and immediately turned to leave afterwards to continue my route. He tried to engage me in conversation as I was leaving, and I said, "I'm sorry, but I have to finish my route." While I thought that this interaction was odd, I didn't think too much of it at the time. One of the regulations that I was supposed to follow for my route was to make sure that the newspapers were either placed in the customer's mailbox, or put somewhere safe. Long before I had met this customer, I had established a pattern of putting his newspaper behind the deckchair beside his front door, up on his deck. The next time that I delivered, I didn't see the man, and planned to put the newspaper in its usual spot and go on my way, as usual. As I climbed the steps of his deck, his dogs barked at me through the window, which was normal. But as I was turning to leave, suddenly the door opened, and the man was standing there, and he tried to engage me in conversation, but I told him again that I needed to finish my route. This became the start of a pattern, and every single time that I delivered the newspaper to his house, he was waiting near the door and opened it as soon as I was coming up the steps of his deck. He had never came out of his house when I was delivering before he met me on the sidewalk that one time, but now, he happened to be right at the door, as if waiting for me, every single time. The longer the pattern continued, the more that I realized that his behaviour was not normal, and I became really uneasy, and wished to not interact with him unless absolutely necessary. One day as I was doing my route, I noticed that one of his deck chairs was moved to the side of his deck, near his driveway. I realized that I could walk a few steps down his driveway, and put the newspaper under that chair without stepping onto his deck at all. Since I didn't go onto the deck, the dogs didn't bark, and he wasn't alerted that I was there, and he didn't open the door to try to talk to me as I gave him the paper. I thought that this was great, and I felt a lot more comfortable delivering to his house since I wasn't interacting with him anymore. Then one day, the deck chair was moved, and was put on the other side of the deck. I hadn't forgotten the reason why I didn't want to step foot on his deck, and I decided to put the newspaper in the same spot that I had been putting it for several weeks, even though the chair wasn't there to secure it. I crossed the street to deliver to the next house, and just as I was stepping onto the next customer's driveway, he stepped out of his house, looked at the newspaper, grabbed it, and shook it as he shouted at me across the street. He was yelling that the newspaper was about to blow away and become litter all down the road, despite the fact that there was no wind at all that day. I stood there, and listened to him screaming at me in shock, unable to respond. He continued to scream that I was never to leave the newspaper anywhere on his deck, not even under a chair, but that I had to open his door and bring the newspaper inside. Thankfully, at this point the woman whose driveway I was standing in opened her door, and began to yell back at the man that he needed to stop screaming at me, and that she was sure that I had done nothing wrong. The man glared at her, and finally went back into his house. The woman talked with me for a moment, telling me to not pay that man any attention. I was really scared and upset. As soon as that man told me that he wanted me to put the newspaper inside his house, the thought that he wanted to rape me popped into my head, and I was unable to shake it. I grabbed my cart, and went home without finishing my route, since I didn't feel safe being anywhere near his house. Back home, (I lived at my uncle and aunt's house during this time) my cousin asked me why I was home so early, and I told her what had happened, including all of the previous weird interactions (I never had a normal interaction with him) and broke down crying, barely able to say my fear that I thought that he wanted to rape me. My aunt overheard part of our conversation, and my cousin helped me fill her in on the rest of it. I told my aunt that I had no clue what to do, because I had believed that not delivering a newspaper to him was not an option. I also felt that I had no proof to back up my feeling that he wanted to rape me, since nothing concretely implying that had happened, and I assumed that most people would dismiss his individual actions like I had initially done. My aunt, however, told me that she would call the newspaper that I delivered for, and inform them that I would no longer be delivering to his house. My male cousin and uncle finished my route for me that night. The next time I was supposed to deliver, my male cousin came out with me to deliver to the houses near the man's house, doing that section of my route first, rather than in the middle like before. There was a day when I was walking down that road by myself, not delivering papers, and the guy was driving down the road in his truck. He slowed down, and yelled out of his window at me, trying to get my attention, but I refused to turn my head to look at him or acknowledge him in any way, and just kept walking. Finally, he gave up and drove off. Thankfully, that was my final interaction with him. My male cousin continued to deliver that section of the route with me, until I felt comfortable delivering by myself, since I had developed a pattern of delivering my papers so that I never stepped foot on the sidewalk directly in front his house. When summer came, I got a summer job, and the next school year, I asked for a different route. It's been years since I moved out of my uncle and aunt's house, and out of that town. The last time I was in that town, I decided to take a walk down some of the streets where I had delivered for nostalgic purposes, and I still felt a shiver of fear as passed by that man's house, even though I was walking on sidewalk on the other side of the street, and I didn't see him at all. I still don't know if he would have attempted anything inappropriate with me if I had followed his wish and stepped into his house, but I had a bad gut feeling, and do not feel guilty at all for listening to it. He hopefully wouldn't recognize me this many years later since I'm an adult now, but I still hope that I never meet him again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iypt5b/paper_delivery_route/

LetsNotMeet

Swatvanna

The guy who followed me.

Hi, I'm a french girl and i'm 18, so excuse me if my english is not perfect ahah ! So, let's talk about the most traumatic thing in my life. Situation : At that time I was 12 years old so I am still in middle-school and I live in a house with 2 floors. I lived in a small village where everyone knew each other, and you knew very quickly if there was a new neighbor or if there was an intruder who was looking for something. I had a large garden and many overlooked the neighbors' gardens on both sides of the house. (Remember this is important for the next) So one day, my friend and I finish classes earlier so we come back from middle-school, I accompany her and I go home. On the way, I feel that I am being followed, the guy is on the other sidewalk and he is walking a good distance from me. I start walking faster, I arrive at the first door which I unlock very quickly and I start to run towards my front door hardly further. I come in, I close it with double turns and I go upstairs in the living / dining room. I don't panic too much until I see a man stepping over my gate and come into the courtyard of my house. At that time it was in summer, so window open eh of course. So I hasten to close all the windows possible and ditto for the floor where there are the bedrooms. I hear the guy whistling and I panic a little. I call my mother but no answer and my father is abroad. So I'm alone, in a big house with a guy who has followed me and who is potentially trying to break into my house. Almost a few minutes, I hear the door slammed, the handle move in all directions. The guy wanted to break into my house. Me, 12 year old girl, I panic and I just feel trapped. I didn't know if my neighbors were there so I couldn't do anything. Later, the noise stops and I see the guy coming out of my yard. Except that what I had forgotten is that there is a path which is hardly further from my house which leads to the forest and therefore, the gardens of the three houses of which mine is one. I calm down, I go to my kitchen (with a window and a French window that overlooks the garden) I cook myself, I turn around and the guy is at the edge of my garden looking at me with a big smile. He spans the fence (not very high) and is about to run towards the windows to come to my house. And luckily my neighbor loved gardening and he saw it, and yelled at him to get out otherwise he called the cops. The guy left, I went to my neighbors' house crying and I never came home alone until we moved out. This is one of the scariest stories in my life Take care of yourself and your loved ones.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iyd45w/the_guy_who_followed_me/

LetsNotMeet

black_cactuss1

A Somewhat Creepy Encounter Camping

Edit 3: please do not ask permission to use my post for anything - this includes, but is not limited to, being read for your podcast or Youtube channel. I've read a lot on this subreddit and enjoyed many of its post. I thought I should contribute. This isn't anything nearly as crazy as some of the stuff I've read on here, but I thought that I ought to give back to the community. It was the summer right after I graduated from high school. A good friend and I decided to try our hand at camping. We grew up in the greater Los Angeles area, so our knowledge of the great outdoors was nothing beyond the couple years we had in Cub Scouts of America when we were in elementary school. In other words, we had almost no idea what we were doing. We packed a tent, a couple sleeping bags, supplies, etc. and headed off in his car. Note well that I grew up in the 80s, so this is a time before the wide prevalence of cell phones and the existence of other portable, digital devices. We drove north on the 395 for about 6 hours and then headed westward into the mountains in the area of Inyo Canyon. * First mistake: we didn't plan on which place to camp. We played it by ear, i.e. like fools. * Second mistake: we left in mid-afternoon. It was pitch-black darkness when we arrived in the general area. We had driven off the main road and onto a dirt road in order to find a spot to camp. The dust from driving on the dirt road overwhelmed the headlight highbeams when we finally decided to pull over and set up camp. It was around 23:30 around this time, and we were exhausted and famished. Anyplace was a good spot to camp for us given our only reason to do so at that point was our hunger and exhaustion. * Third mistake: we didn't bring flashlights. We only had BIC lighters for our cigarettes. We tried to set up the tent using our lighters and the headlights of the car, which was parked about 10 to 15 feet away. The wind was blowing, so the lighter constantly went out after a few seconds either directly because of the wind, or indirectly because the wind would push the flame into our thumb. Clearly, we were being complete idiots. We finished setting up the tent, but at that point I was too tired to eat. My friend managed to make some instant ramen. We smoked a cigarette in the car, then crashed out in the tent. We awoke to a very cold morning. It must have been around 5:30. Immediately upon exiting the tent, we realized that we were camped at the entrance of a hiking trail. There were at least two "No Camping" signs in visible distance from us. We dismantled the tent, cleaned up, and cleared out. That morning, we ended up buying some cheap flashlights and a nice hot meal in a very small town. It wasn't really a town, but more like a few storefronts and shops on a main road, about the length of an average city block. We went into some office, though I don't recall exactly what it was. It might have been a park ranger station or the office headquarters for a campground. In any case, we found and reserved a site for the night. The campground was basically like a large circle with campsites along its outer circumference, with each campsite being about 50 yards from its neighbor. In the middle of the circle was a common bathroom and shower. We circled around it once, and I think we saw one family that was all set up with a tent and camper. We found our spot and set up camp, which was quite far from them. That night was when we had a creepy encounter. My friend and I were laying in the tent, shining our flashlights upwards and chatting. Our new flashlights eventually gave out - yes, broken. Our fire pit was about six feet from the opening of our tent, and it was just a glowing ember. We probably should have completely put it out, and we probably shouldn't have had the tent so close. In any case, there we were, chatting away and having a good time. My friend began to be distracted with his foot. After the third or fourth time he got up to check his foot, I asked him what was wrong. He told me that something is 'tapping' his foot from the outside of the tent. His foot was against the side of the tent, so from the outside you would have been able to see a bulge in the tent's side where his foot was. It was as if pebbles were being thrown at his foot through the tent. "There it is again, what the hell?" Each time it happened, there was a sound, like pebbles or a light 'tap'. We sort of laughed it off, assuming that it was a twig or grass moving in the wind, or perhaps a loose strap on the outside of the tent. I don't recall exactly how it happened at first, but I do remember we suddenly became silent at the same time. A sound came to be audible to the both of us: footsteps slowly moving towards our tent. We wondered if it was a bear or other non-human animal, but it seemed distinctly bipedal. They were very slow and measured, like a step every two seconds. I finally said, in a whisper, "Someone's coming". My friend didn't move - his face had an expression of fear. At some point, my friend bolted up and said "fuck this". He grabbed his pipe, stuffed it full of pot (marijuana), and took the biggest, deepest drags I've ever seen a person take. About a minute or two later, he was out. Drugs aren't my thing, so I was alone in the tent as far as conscious bodies are concerned. I was sitting up at this point, and I had taken out the only weapon I had: a Swiss Army pocket knife. I took out the big and small blades, as well as the ice-pick in the middle, and held it like some ridiculous melee weapon. I could see the glowing embers in the fire pit through the sheer nylon material of our tent, and I was able to roughly, but barely, discern some of the rocks around it. I watched and listened intently. The footsteps came closer, and at the same slow pace. With each step, I could hear the dirt and rocks underfoot crunching and grinding. At some point, it was clear to me that whoever it was was standing between the tent and the fire pit, for my fuzzy line of sight to the burning embers through the nylon tent became obscured by something outside the tent. The footsteps stopped *right* at the front of the tent: about six to eight inches, no more than foo, from the entrance to the tent. It was silent for about one minute, and then I heard a 'click'. At exactly the same time, I clearly saw, through the nylon tent wall, a flashlight turn on. I was able to see not just the flashlight, but the outline of the hand holding it. The flashlight was shining on the zipper entrance into the tent, just inches from the zipper. Blood drained out of my head and my palms instantly became dripping in sweat. I yelled "WHO'S THERE???!!!" There was some fear in my voice, but it was mostly aggressive in tone. Whoever it was, the person immediately turned off their flashlight. I didn't move, but neither did they. The person just stood there inches from the tent's only entrance. My friend is out, totally unaware of what's going on. Nevertheless, I pretended that he was still awake and whispered just loud enough to be audible to our visitor, "Yes, loaded. There's one in the chamber" as if my friend was awake and asked me about our gun. * Fourth mistake: we didn't have a gun, or any real weapon for self-defense. It felt like an eternity, but after sitting still for at least ten minutes, I heard feet slowly turning in the dirt, then slowly walking away from the tent. I stayed up the whole night, and it wasn't until the light of dawn came through the tent that I crashed out. The heat inside the tent woke us up, and it was near noon by this point. We went outside to inspect the site but found nothing missing. However, we did find boot prints leading away from our campsite and outside the campground. That was the last time I camped in a tent. Edit: Writing/Grammar Edit 2: First, thanks to the people for the comments and awards. It's one of those small things that can brighten one's day, especially during these unusual and tense times. Second, I want to say something that keeps coming up about my friend smoking marijuana and passing out. Those who express surprise, disbelief, and doubt about this part of the event are assuming (reading into my text) a direct causal relation between smoking marijuana and passing out. However, no such causal relation was ever explicitly stated, nor implicitly implied. I simply recalled the order of events as they occurred, and those in fact the correct order of events, not at all fabricated. If you were to ask me what were the sufficient and determinate causes of him passing out after a few minutes, I would have to speculate (fatigue exacerbated by fear; beers from earlier; a heavy dinner; etc.). In any case, that part, I assure you, is true.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ixzy3o/a_somewhat_creepy_encounter_camping/

LetsNotMeet

5um-n3m0

[META] Your motivations for reading these stories?

On the **fictional** subreddits -- such as /r/nosleep even though they're "true" -- the motivation is more straight-forward. We're reading scary stories for enjoyment and entertainment, plain and simple! And that's fine because it's *fiction.* However, the stories on /r/LetsNotMeet are not fiction. Occasional skepticism about veracity aside, these stories are the **true** accounts of real-life individuals who have lived through these experiences and often endure lasting consequences, unto the present day. These stories often include tragic and heartbreaking events, as well as potential "trigger" elements for readers who are also survivors. I feel safe in assuming that most of us find nothing "entertaining" or "enjoyable" about someone's harrowing account of enduring the advances and violations inflicted by a creep or stalker! In fact, reading can often be a personally uncomfortable experience. On the other hand, the accounts **are** both *compelling* and *engaging* -- for example, due to the reader's feeling of empathy and concern for the narrator and their well-being. Plus, for many readers, they may relate personally to certain stories, or at least specific aspects of those stories. And sharing stories, and bearing witness to others' stories, can help some people with emotional healing. Finally, I have to believe that these stories may help prevent some other people, readers and their loved ones, from enduring similar experiences by heightening awareness of behaviors and "signs": * Red flags in others that may be warning signs of future toxicity and danger * Thoughts, beliefs, and actions that *enable* creepers and stalkers * Ways that victims can be "conditioned" to tolerate unacceptable behavior and discouraged from protecting themselves or seeking help. **For example:** People tolerating and going along with inappropriate, creepy, and boundary-violating behavior because they "don't want to be rude". While I was certainly not **UN**-aware of this phenomenon previously, I have to credit /r/LetsNotMeet with clearly demonstrating to me just how prevalent this kind of thinking really is! What about you? What are some motivations you have for reading the accounts here and similar ones as may be found elsewhere? And what value would you say these stories (and the accompanying discussions) have for you, as a reader? (On a related note, does anyone ever worry about others might think badly of you, for reading stories like these? Such as making negative assumptions/judgments about your personality or character?) I look forward to you sharing your own perspectives and experiences, as you wish.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iwy288/meta_your_motivations_for_reading_these_stories/

LetsNotMeet

HeartExalted

Attempted break-in whilst I was home alone

So I've had quite a few bad experiences with strange people and my house, from when I was young an old man would come banging on our door late at night demanding to see me; causing me to have to hide in the house and not be allowed into my garden alone for years. Or when a man came knocking on our door late at night with a knife because he mistook our house for my neighbours. These experiences all caused me to be very cautious about opening the front door to anyone or even being in the house alone. Especially at night. But one evening was definitely the worst. It was around 6pm in November 2018, I'm from England meaning it was already pitch black outside at this time of the year. I had just got home from work and was sat in my room upstairs just watching YouTube on my laptop, my mum shouted up to me that she was just going to pick my brother up from work and would be stopping off at the petrol station on the way back so she would be gone for a little bit and asked if I wanted to come, I said no and carried on with my video. I heard her close the front door and pull out of the driveway, I was 17 at the time so being home alone at night was nothing new to me and I was used to the eerie feeling of it. But after around 10mins I started hearing noises coming from downstairs.. at first I thought nothing of it and just related it to my cat noisily searching for food in an empty bowl. Until I remembered him sitting at the end of my bed. I paused my video and listened more at the sound of banging on the back door. This instantly creeped me out, until it was followed by the sound of keys jangling and I just thought 'oh my mum must've just dropped my brother off before going to the petrol station and he's just trying to go outside' so I let the noise continue as I kept watching my video. He can get quite angry sometimes so the loud banging was nothing out of the ordinary, but it just kept carrying on; banging and the sounds of keys jangling then dropping then banging again. Then the fear really hit me...I don't think it's him. I walked out of my room slowly and sat on the stairs listening carefully to the noise, it definitely wasn't him. I'm a very anxious person, and everyone gets those times late at night when they hear noises and immediately think the worst. This was just one of those I told myself. So I decided to bite the bullet and just walk straight into the kitchen and face whatever it was causing the noise (our kitchen has the door straight to the garden). But as I turned the corner into the kitchen I heard a loud bang and clatter of footsteps run away. The catflap had been ripped off the door and there was plastic from it everywhere. In fear, I still tried to console myself into thinking it could be anything other than people breaking in; I sat back on the stairs and called my mum just to check again that it wasn't my brother home early and just in a bad mood. But then he answered my mum's phone, whilst still in the car. 'Are you at home?' I shouted at him 'No' then my voice started to break with terror 'please be serious, are you at home right now?' 'NO! what do you want?' even though he said he wasn't I still begged in my mind that he was joking just to get a scare out of me, but he heard how scared I was and began to worry. I explained to him what happened and he started to scream at me to call the police, he's never been the protective type but I could tell now he was really worried and told my mum to rush back home straight away Whilst dialing 999 I tried so hard to stay calm, I told them exactly what was happening as I hid back in my room with the door tightly locked, then I heard talking and the banging of doors again downstairs.. they were back. I burst into tears to the dispatcher out of pure fear and sat on the phone for what felt like forever until my mum, brother and police all pulled up at the same time. Everyone charged through the house to the back door and we instantly saw what they'd done. The people saw the keys to the back door on the side in the kitchen, took a broom from outside, broke it inhalf on the door handle, got the broom through the cat flap, knocked the keys off the side and pulled them through the cat flap. Although, out of pure luck, as they broke the broom inhalf they also managed to snap off the door handle, making it impossible for it to be opened from the outside, otherwise, they would've got in no questioned asked and I would've been sat quietly in my room completely oblivious. It was clear afterward that they had been watching the house for a while, waiting until the exact moment they saw my mum's car pull out of the drive; I'm not sure if they knew I was there alone or not. But I know that after they initially saw me and ran away.. they made a choice to come back. So dickheads who don't know how to open doors properly.. let's not meet :) (p.s. always keep your keys in a place that someone breaking a window or cat flap cant reach)

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ivu8kr/attempted_breakin_whilst_i_was_home_alone/

LetsNotMeet

AuroraxSky

I took a terrifying cab ride about 6 years ago

This happened to me 6 years ago now, on July 1st, 2014. ​ In Canada, July 1st is a national holiday, and in Vancouver, where I’m from, there’s always fireworks in English Bay around 10pm. The bay is on the west side of the city, and is surrounded by a semi-circle of beaches, which are all usually packed with locals enjoying the day off and taking in the fireworks. This means that public transport is sloooooooow, particularly after 1030pm, when the fireworks end. ​ I had just finished a big project and gotten a nice little bonus from work, so I spent the day shopping with a friend, and then walked down to the nearest beach with her to meet up with a few others to watch the fireworks and smoke a joint. ​ Vancouver is a pretty bike-friendly city, and I normally bike everywhere, especially in nice weather, but my friend’s bike happened to have a broken chain that day, so we’d taken the bus out, which meant we’d also be taking it home. ​ After the fireworks were over, we were lucky enough to catch one of the first busses towards the east side of the city, where we both lived. The trip took waaaay longer that usual, because of both holiday traffic downtown, and the bus itself being packed, with people wanting to get on/off at every single stop. By the time the bus got us to our transfers, which was about halfway home for both of us, the trip had taken about an hour, instead of 20 minutes. ​ Hastings St. Is one of the main bus thoroughfares in Vancouver, served by at least 10 different bus routes. Most of the routes that run along Hastings use cable-style busses that are connected to over-head powerlines. Good for pollution (I guess?), but if one bus with cable-attachments gets stopped, it holds up all the other busses on the cable behind it. Sometimes you’ll be waiting at a stop, see no busses for 20 minutes, and then 5 come all at once, stacked up behind each other. ​ East Hastings St. also contains a “seedy” section of town, Vancouver’s safe injection site is there, there is a lot of open drug use, addiction and prostitution. I have a lot of friends that work with social programmes in the neighbourhood, or are nurses in the area, and I’ve never once felt unsafe there at any point, but I just want to give you an idea of my surroundings. ​ My friend and I lived maybe only 15 blocks apart at the time, but the fastest way home for each of us was served by 2 different routes that both stopped pretty much outside of our (respective) rentals. After making sure I was okay, my friend grabbed her bus home, and I waited for my bus to show. It was about midnight at this point. ​ After about 30 minutes, I was getting tired of waiting, and also just in general. No busses were showing up, it was getting late, and I wanted to get home. I saw a cab coming down the street, by some miracle empty, hailed it, and got in. I told the driver my address and we drove in silence for a few minutes. ​ As we started passing through a particularly rough stretch of Hastings, my driver started talking. “Look at all these people”, he said. Thinking he was talking about holiday partiers, I agreed that it was pretty busy tonight. ​ “No,” he said, “look at all these sluts and whores. Look at all these dirty people selling it on the street. These are worthless women.” I was pretty shocked, and didn’t say anything, and he carried on his tirade for another couple of minutes before abruptly stopping in mid-sentence and falling silent. He made eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, and said, “But you don’t have to worry about that, you’re a good girl”, which creeped the hell out of me and made me want to get out of the cab immediately. Traffic was pretty light at this point, and up ahead a couple of blocks, I could see that there was a police road check, so decided I would get out there, since he’d have to stop, or at least slow down enough that I wouldn't get hurt getting out of the car. ​ Before I could put my plan into action, though, he turned off onto a side street, and then onto a street running parallel to Hastings. We were still heading east, but were now further south, away from my house. At this point, I was feeling kind of panicky. I asked him if he could turn back onto Hastings, since we were heading away from my address, and he said he couldn’t. I asked him why, and he said there was too much traffic there, and that this route would be faster. ​ As he said this, he locked the doors and made eye contact with me again in the mirror, saying in a strange, joking kind of voice, “Plus, if we stopped at that road check, we’d have to tell them what’s going on in here, and we don’t want that”. ​ I was terrified, and blurted out “What the fuck IS happening in here?”, but he didn’t answer me, and just kept driving in silence and smiling strangely at me in the rearview. I’m a pretty anxious person, and don’t like cab rides late at night in general, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t overreacting, and it crossed my mind he might kill me. There were maybe a few cars, but the sidewalks were empty, and we were in an industrial area of town with warehouses and no reason for people to be out on the street this late at night. ​ The side street curved and thankfully, thankfully, another police roadcheck that had been hidden from view was pretty much right in front of us. It was a one-way street, and both lanes had checks on them, with the cops waving some cars through, and motioning for others to pull over. This meant there was a bit of a backup in both lanes, and no way to avoid it. I undid my seatbelt and started to grab for the door handle, and the driver saw me and said, “Don’t even think about it. Don’t even roll down the window. If we get stopped at the roadcheck, don’t say a word.” ​ Well, I didn’t listen to any of that, just unlocked the door and yanked it open at the same time, and basically sprinted across a lane of traffic to a gas station on the other side of the street, crying. I left all my purchases in the cab, and he didn’t stick around to get his fare, just sped away after getting waved through the roadcheck. ​ In my fear, I didn’t think to get the number of the cab, and now, years later, I can’t even remember which company it was. I wish I had said something to the cops at the roadcheck, but I was shaking and just wanted to go home, lock my doors and windows, and crawl into bed. I don’t know if the driver was just worried about me skipping out on my fare, or if something more sinister was going on, but from time to time I think about it, and I always make sure I have a plan to get home that doesn’t involve a taxi if I’m out and it’s getting late.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ivhmqv/i_took_a_terrifying_cab_ride_about_6_years_ago/

LetsNotMeet

whybee

Escaped what turned out to be an horrific terrorist attack

Before i start telling you my story, i'd like to put you in context and apologise for every English mistake i could possibly make as English is not my native language. I'm a 24 yo girl from Algeria, a country that suffered A LOT from terrorism back in time in the 90-20y's, the extremist religious people would force everyone to be like them, they would randomly kill women without scarfs, they would decapitate people for no apparent reason, it was a real time of horror. I was 7 yo by then and we ( me, my parents and my cousin who's my exact same age) were in the car on our way to the beach, which was highly risky by then, as we were on our way in the mountains, 20 mins away from our last destination, we came across 40 men dressed as special police officers (we call them "gendarmerie") walking on both sides of the road, me and my cousin just waved at them from the car windows, innocently, as my parents anxiously told us to stay quiet.. When the first officer in line proceeded to ask my dad to park on the side of the road, when suddenly being told by another one of them to just let us go, so he did, without telling a word nor checking our papers, they just waved back at us. We arrived to the beach, spent the day there, it was empty and we spent a beautiful day, i still remember the joy and lightness we were in on our way home.... Untill, once arrived to a small village we have to cross before arriving to the city... We saw what really terrified us to this day... There was blood everywhere.. Bodies... Heads put on spikes and hung on spotlights..there were kids.. Elders.. Women... It felt like dreaming and suddenly falling into a nightmarish place... I remember my parents yelling at us not to look while being driving really fast outside the village.. The scene was really, movielike, i couldn't even cry, i had no clue what i just witnessed.. Once home, they reported on the local news that approximately 40 terrorists dressed as officers went down from their hiding spot in the mountains and killed more than 50 persons, so yes, the guys we saw were the killers... And they simply did not kill us? For some reason? I wonder every night... You can simply find informations about terrorism in Algeria on google, it's called "la décennie noire" and there are no words to describe the horror we lived in...and i just hoped that maybe writing it would make me feel better, since I still see those images in my nightmares like bad scenes from a very bad gore movie So to those murders, i hope you burn in hell so we won't ever meet again. Thank you for reading me (for the french speakers, here is a documentary about the terrorist attacks we lived with back then https://youtu.be/zWqtm5PxQUg)

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iu6hx0/escaped_what_turned_out_to_be_an_horrific/

LetsNotMeet

Chioneyr

Did I create a monster?

About 15 years ago, when I was 22-ish my best girl and I went out to bars 3-4+ nights a week and generally met some interesting people and made new friends. There were a few bars that we hit up more than others, and one in particular where we knew the bartender/manager pretty well. We went the week of Halloween and each night their staff would dress up in a different costume, this was where we came across Ron. He was bouncing at this bar, and didn't even catch my eye in the slightest as I gave him my ID to get in (until a few years ago I never looked anyone in the face, I have to force myself to do it). My girl and I hung out, drank and danced, met some people, then headed up to the bar to chat with our friend. He asked me what I thought about Ron. I had no idea who he meant and he gestured to the bouncer to which I was like "Meh." He was older looking, very muscular (turned out to be a major gym rat), I was 22ish dressed in black and skulls and platforms, didn't seem my type on the outside... but bartender friend vouched for him, said he was really a cool guy. He asked if he could give Ron my number and I figured it would be ok. I hear from him the next day and he wants to hang. At the time I lived with my Uncle and Aunt (Pastor and his wife) so he invited me to meet at his place and we would just go have a casual hang somewhere, simple middle-of-the-day chill. I get there and his apartment door is wide open, and his much better looking, married (and closer to my age) best friend is there. He seems nice enough, and I didnt feel unsafe as they left the door wide open AND again, my bartender friend had vouched for him. He mentions he needs to grab a few office supplies so the 3 of us pile in his douchey car and head to an office supply store. We go in and as we walk in a pretty girl walks by and he does the head thing and completely stares at her, like the obvious follow her with his head thing. We aren't together but I found it to be rude. So later in the car I mention it, I tell him, "Hey look, I know we are just hanging out, but don't disrespect me like that, everyone looks, but be less obvious and don't make me look like an ass in public." He laughs and tells me that it's hot that I stood up for myself, especially on our first hang out. Ok... We get back to his place and as we walk inside he says, "I like that, you're gonna have a ring on your finger by December..." Remember we met Halloween week. So anyway, his friend leaves, we get takeout and hang and drink and just talk, turns out he is from the same tiny town that my parents are from which is 6 hours south of us. He is a Desert Storm Veteran, which made him more than 20 years older than me, and was back in school to finish his degree, worked full-time during the week and bounced at night and on weekends. Seemed decent. He asks about my tattoos (I have a lot) and we talked about my love of horror and fascination with true crime and serial killers. He seems interested but says he doesn't know much about them, so I tell him I'll lend him my Encyclopedia of Serial Killers so it can be like a crash course for him. Maybe a week later we hang out again and I bring him the book. We hang multiple times, I even sleep there a few times. One day we are hanging out and day drinking heavily... he says something to me that felt very much like he was getting way too comfortable too fast, like TELLING me to do something. I told him not to speak to me that way and turned to walk away when my head jerked back, he had grabbed my hair at the base of my neck. I grabbed his hand and he tried to laugh it off and apologize, saying he didn't mean to be that rough and tried to act like it was some sort of foreplay, but I cut that off real quick. I wanted to leave but was already very buzzed. So I just sat and he said he was going to do some work. I thought I would just let the buzz wear off, head home and never talk to this guy again. While I'm sitting and he's working he suddenly decides to tell me in graphic detail about his favorite serial killer in the book so far and why. I think the way he is talking about it seems off but again I'm just waiting out my buzz. He starts working on a sociology assignment that is studying urban legends and such. He plays videos with horrible creepy content and it's creeping me out. (I realize later that i felt that way because I didn't feel safe with him) I ask him to wait until I'm gone to play it out loud, or put on headphones and he laughs at me, tells me he can't believe I'm such a poser. Tells me, "You have all these tattoos and skulls and really you're scared! You look all goth or punk rock but you're terrified!" He laughs this scary laugh, he is really enjoying that this creeps me out. I don't want to drive even mildly buzzed. I tell him that his reaction is really scaring me (I love scary things, but I realize this guy is enjoying watching me squirm in a really sick way) and he loves it...his face gets completely serious and he suddenly tells me that he has his machete under his mattress... I look and see the handle barely sticking out. He tells me he could make me disappear and nobody would ever find my body. In that moment my adrenaline hit. I grabbed my bag and ran to my car. He sort of slowly lumbered behind me laughing at me and telling me not to leave. I am stone cold sober at this point (adrenaline I guess) and start my car, take off about 2 minutes down the road by the mall and just park and slow my breathing down. I call my girl and just unload. For the next week he texts and calls me over and over switching between begging me to give him another chance and berating me calling me a poser and a fake. I tell our bartender friend and he can't believe that Ron did all of those things. He only works with him a few more times and they don't talk. Ron set his sights on someone new, another chick in her early 20s. Her family owns the Vietnamese restaurant in the same strip as the bar. Bartender tells us Ron had just started seeing her and she ended up pregnant immediately. I asked bartender to warn her or give her my number, but he never saw her again. I hope and pray that she didn't get stuck with Ron, and everytime I'm in that area I pray that I don't run into him again. He can keep the encyclopedia, I just hope he hasn't picked up any tips from it.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iszo9d/did_i_create_a_monster/

LetsNotMeet

LetTheLightInside

Creepy neighbour and maybe attempted murder

My friend Sally has had a bad run with neighbours but this was one of the worst. Sally lives very close to me (about a 10 minute walk) we were both around 14 years old when this happened. We live rural so we both have alot of land. Me and Sally decided to go camping on her land. We baught cheap hammocks and went through the bushland. The days prior we spent clearing some of the razor grass with a cane knife to make a path. We probably should of worn long pants because we ended up with little cuts all over our legs and some on our arms. We set up our hammocks and braught quite a few blankets because it does get pretty cold at night even though your swetting throughout the day. We were still on her property and hadn't gone to her neighbours boundry. Her neighbour had just leased the land to new tenants. Me and Sally were sitting on our hammocks talking and laughing this was around 9pm. We heard something in the bush. We just thought it was a wallaby. There's plenty of wallabies around there. Then we could see the figure of a man. We were whispering to each other trying to see who it was. At first we thought it was her brother. His come and scared us when we were camping previously. Then as the person got closer we were thinking it could of been her dad. It was dark and the bush looks the same from every angle. We realised the man was coming from the other direction than her house. We didn't dare move and covered our torches under our blankets. The man came up and said hi and introduced himself as Ben. Now Ben was extremely drunk he staggered around and he reeked of alcohol. He started saying how we had a nice little camp here and said something pretty unsettling "I'll have to come out and sunbake naked here on one of these hammocks" me and Sally gave each other worried looks but didn't say anything. It only got worse from there. I can't remember everything he said because it was a while ago and he was mumbling on for what felt like forever. But some of the things that stuck out were "I'll have to kill yas wolf creek style" and said "your nearly legal then" when he asked us our age. Ben was probably in his 40s. Me and Sally were texting each other while he was talking and coming up with an escape plan. He also offered us a "puff on the magic Dragon" and pulled out a glass pipe. We declined. Sally said that we were leaving back to the house to make food. He told us to come back. We left our blankets and most of the stuff there and legged it. We told her dad what happened and we slept inside. The next morning we went back to out campsite to find everything burnt. A circle with probably a 20m radius was all burnt. Coming from that circle was a line of burnt grass. Going towards the neighbours house. I'm not a firefighter or do forensics but it seemed obvious that some kind of fuel was used. Me and Sally were talking and it dawned on us the possibility that Ben may of thought we were in the hammocks due to the pile of blankets. Ben was definitely drunk enough not to be able to tell the difference. We went and told Sally's dad who then checked it out and then went next door. Bens roommate answered the door and said Ben wasn't home and apologised. And even gave Sally's dad $50 for the blankets and hammocks. Nothing more happened for a few months. Sally told me at school about how Ben had been caught on camera sneaking around her yard. I went to her house after school because she was going to be home alone until her dad finished work. I ended up sleeping over there that night. That's when he came over. Ben was drunk and came out the front of Sally's house and started yelling he accused Sally of stealing his dog. Sally's dad called the police. They arrested him. The next day we found a knife in the yard. It wasn't from Sally's house. The police came again and we told them about the knife and they got the footage from the cameras aswell. I don't know what happened to Ben but he no longer lives next to Sally. So Ben let's never meet again. I have a photo of the burnt campsite somewhere. It might take some digging to find though so I'll post it if/when I find it. ETA I found the photo and the fire was a bit smaller than what it was in my memory, and we were 14 not 15 [photo](http://imgur.com/gallery/rLIgGsp)

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ise2en/creepy_neighbour_and_maybe_attempted_murder/

LetsNotMeet

ashy-autie

A Late Night Visitor Terrifies Us

My husband and I live in a very rural place. It's known as a 'holler' where we're from. For those who don't know, a holler is a hollow or a road that runs along a creek in a valley between two mountains. Our nearest neighbor is about 100 yards away on one side and through a wooded area on the other. The way our house is laid out, if you drive up our hill and park, you come to the back door. The front door faces the road and no one *ever* knocks on our front door. One night, a couple years ago, I decided to go to bed a little earlier than my husband. He stayed up playing video games in the living room. I had been asleep for a couple hours when my husbands busts through the door of the bedroom freaking out. He's mumbling and rambling in a desperate whisper. He has his phone in his hand and I can just make out the light shining on his face. I'm so out of it at first that I can't make sense of what he's saying. I lay there for a second and then suddenly I hear him clearly whisper-- "AND HE'S TRYING TO BREAK DOWN THE DOOR!" I sit bolt upright in bed asking what on earth is he talking about. He shushes me, tells me to whisper and says he has to call 911. I glance at the clock and it's 3am. I reach to turn on the light and he loudly whispers "NO!" He gets through to 911 and tells them that we need assistance at our address. I catch a few details but my head is spinning. After he gets off the phone with them he tells me what has happened. It was late and he was still up playing a game when suddenly he heard heavy footsteps on the porch. He paused his game to listen and then there was a knock. Another knock. And then repetitive beating of the door. He could hear a man's voice but could not make out what he was saying. Instead of opening the door he decided to walk out the back door and around to the front of the house to see who it was. He thought it could possibly be our older neighbor needing help with his wife. So he walks out the back door and around to the front and sees a large man dressed all in black, carrying a duffel bag. At this point the man is pounding on the door so hard that it looked like he was trying to break it in. My husband waits for a second and then asks the guy if he needs help or something. The man apparently didn't realize that my husband was behind him because he started yelling *into* the door "Just let me in and I won't hurt you!" At this point my husband decides no more questions are necessary. He runs back in the house, locks the door, turns out the light in the kitchen and bursts into the bedroom to call 911 and to wake me up. After he calls 911 we wait huddled in darkness for 40 minutes for a policeman to show up at our house. FORTY MINUTES!! His excuse-- small town, no one was on duty, and he had been asleep. It *was* 3 am after all. The policeman doesn't even get out of his car, either. He just sits there and spotlights the house from our driveway as my husband goes outside and tells him the story and describes what he could of the man. The cop leaves, my husband comes back in and we sit in the darkness of our bedroom, terrified until daybreak, wondering who that guy was and what he was going to do to us if he actually did get in.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/is9x1t/a_late_night_visitor_terrifies_us/

LetsNotMeet

SuperSketchMachine39

Within half an hour of meeting me, he told me he loved me. I was 12 and he was 17.

TL;DR at the bottom. This story takes place in 2005, I was 12 years old at the time. My family wanted to take a vacation, and my mom and ex-step dad decided it would be fun to take a cruise along the California Coast with my three younger siblings and myself. As our ship made its way under the Golden Gate bridge, my mom and I stood out on her balcony to see San Francisco and the ocean beyond us. On the balcony to the right of her, a teenage boy emerged, presumably to take in the same views we were. My mom gave him a polite hello when they made awkward eye contact, and he struck up a conversation with her. I wasn't paying any attention at first, but then I heard him ask my mom, "Do you have any sisters?" I saw him peer over at me, clearly taking interest. Me being a shy 12 year old tried to hide from his gaze behind my mother's side. My mom joked that she has two sisters, but that they're probably much too old for him. They exchanged some polite small talk after that which I didn't listen to, instead taking in the view of the sunset over San Francisco and the pacific. We went about our separate ways for the evening. Over the next couple of days, we always seemed to be running into this boy and his family. My mother is an extremely friendly person so she always would talk with them, his parents seemed nice enough. The boy would always look at me intensely. By that point in my life I was still developing my first crushes on boys in my school, I sure as hell didn't know what to do. I didn't even know what his fixation on me implied, just that it made me feel as if he was seeing right through me. I avoided his stares by staying near my siblings, almost out of an instinctive protectiveness. On the fifth day of our trip, my mom came in and said this boy wanted to meet and hang out with us. She said his name was Asher. I thought he was weird and didn't really want to, but I was always taught to give people the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps my discomfort was me being judgmental, I thought? I reluctantly agreed, and eventually he was in our hotel room. My mom gave me this smile and raised her eyebrows as if she was playing matchmaker, then she went into her room which was connected to ours. Asher was very odd right off the bat and immediately my siblings and I were extremely uncomfortable. We were watching Scary Godmother on Cartoon Network, and I awkwardly asked if he wanted to watch something else. He probably thought our cartoons were stupid. He said he didn't mind, as long as he got to talk to me. My eldest brother, who was ten at the time, immediately picked up on my body language and what he said, so he joined in on the conversation to put me at ease. Asher had an accent, I couldn't tell if he was foreign or if it was a speech impediment. A lot of what he said I couldn't quite pick up on, and he would sometimes lean over to me and say something quietly that although I couldn't hear or understand, I knew I didn't like it. We spent the next while making awkward small talk about school and he told me about his graduation coming up next summer. I asked if he was graduating junior high. No. He meant high school. He then revealed to me he would be turning *EIGHTEEN* that December. Sirens immediately start going off in my head, and then he hands me a note he said he had written for me earlier. With my hands shaking, I open a note that reads: "I love you. You're hot." I guess my brother saw the note from over my shoulder and went over to our parents' room, then came back in and said, "Hey, our parents said we had to go to dinner." Asher took that as his cue to leave, but told me he loves me one more time before his exit. I gave him a shaky, "O-o-o-kay." My brother went to make sure I was okay, and told me he had only pretended to go to our parents' room because he didn't want to get our mom in trouble with our ex-step dad for inviting him (I know this logic seems weird, but please remember we were all just kids). I was trembling and silent for a while, I didn't really understand what had happened. All I knew was that I had felt violated and confused. We later told our mom what had happened, and she then looked extremely guilty. She thought he was younger and that he had good intentions. She thought that it would be a good idea for me to meet friends closer to my age because I was stuck babysitting all the time. Turned out, for some dumb reason, my mother had given him our home phone number before he had hung out with us. I was livid but too timid to speak up. I'd managed to avoid Asher for the rest of our trip aside from on the loading docks on the final day. He said goodbye, that he loved me and would call me every day before leaving. He left before I could tell him not to. He called almost every week for four months after that, leaving strange and cryptic messages on our answering machine. Every time we would block his number, he would manage to call from a new one. I had accidentally picked up a couple times not knowing it was him, and would immediately hang up, only for him to call three more times and leave the same strange messages. After a year he finally gave up and stopped calling. So Asher from the cruise: I may be old enough for you now, but please let's not ever meet again, you creep. TL;DR: Met a boy on a cruise who my mom thought was younger and invited to hang out when I was 12. Turned out to be a 17 year-old trying to get into 12 year-old me's pants and wrote a note telling me he loved me. Kept saying creepy things until my brother saved the day. He had our phone number and called us nonstop for about a year before finally giving up.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/is2tj0/within_half_an_hour_of_meeting_me_he_told_me_he/

LetsNotMeet

ImFeelingWhimsical

The Interstate Incident

This happened to me during my junior year of college. For context, I am a 22-year-old female. I was driving from my hometown in the Chicago suburbs to University of Missouri, which is about a 6 hour drive. I made the drive about every 4-6 weeks to see my family and my long distance boyfriend. There are 2 main ways to take to the town my university is in: Stay on the interstate system through central Illinois and St. Louis or branch out to back roads after Springfield, Illinois until picking the interstate back up about 30 minutes from my college. I usually took the back roads, simply because it kept me awake with the constant speed limit changes and occasional towns but this particular time, I took the interstate system because there was a high potential for winter weather. I was minding my own business, listening to one true crime podcast episode after another when about an hour from my exit, traffic came to a standstill. *Great*, I thought. It was already way beyond dark at that point. It was also a Sunday night and I just wanted to get home and catch a decent night’s sleep before my Monday classes. After a while, emergency vehicles flew past the traffic on the shoulder, indicating that there must be an accident up ahead. After what felt like forever, traffic slowly started crawling again and eventually started moving a little as we all passed the accident. This is when it started. I will admit, I like to drive fast on the interstate, especially on this particular drive. What college kid doesn’t? I was in the right lane, with a decent amount of space between me and the car in front of me. That is when I noticed someone right on my bumper. “Seriously?” I muttered aloud. Traffic was no longer super heavy and the person could easily pass me in the left lane. Suddenly, the car began flashing their brights at me and honking. I was extremely confused. I turned off my podcast and kept a close eye on my rearview. The person continued to flash their brights, half blinding me in the darkness through my mirrors. “Asshole,” I said, flooring it into the left lane. I maneuvered in and out of a few cars, attempting to get away from whatever issue this person had. Except they followed my every move. Being a 21-year-old female, I began to get a sick feeling in my stomach. I had listened to enough true crime and general horror stories to be just the right amount of paranoid. I had read on social media recently about girls from my school encountering sex traffickers in my town and along the interstate that runs through it. One of the town’s papers had even ran a series of stories regarding multiple sex and human trafficking rings that used this interstate to traffic victims because it basically runs the length of the entire country. I shook the disturbing thought out of my head and continued doing about 85 mph in the right lane unless I had to go around someone. The car continued to following me, flashing its lights and barely letting themselves ever get more than a few cars behind or behind and beside me. I finally took the exit to my university. I looked back and the car had followed. It seemed as though the person was trying to get me to pull over. *Is there something wrong with my car that I can’t see?* I wondered silently. Even if there was, there was no way in hell I was pulling over on the side of an interstate in the middle of a dark, rainy night. That is exactly how urban legends or teenage slasher movies start. At this point, I had no idea what to do. Looking back, I really should have driven straight to the local police station but I was too flustered and scared to think straight. I tried to think back on the last hour or so of my drive. Did I cut anyone off? I didn’t think so. I didn’t think I had done anything to make any drivers around me this pissed. I am a relatively good driver and tend to mind my own business on the road, not engaging in road rage or anything stupid like that. I stupidly began driving to my apartment. The car continued to follow, still flashing their lights every so often but no longer honking. They continued to stay glued to my bumper. I began to panic. What if they followed me all the way home? What the hell should I do? Call the police and send them on a wild goose chase to look for me and this car as I’m driving around town? As I approached another small exit off a local highway onto a smaller street that ran past campus and toward my apartment, I had an idea. As I got closer to the exit, I did not get into the far right lane to turn off. At the very last second, I jerked the wheel and careened across the gravel shoulder, so close to the grass that I barely missed driving off the road. As I gunned it down the exit ramp, I glanced up at the overpass. The car had screeched to a halt and was honking its horn manically. I cried the rest of the way home, calling my boyfriend and explaining what had just happened. I never got a good enough look at the car to get a license plate number or really even a good description of the vehicle, so I never reported the incident to police. To this day, I have no idea what exactly it was that happened that night. My best guess is that whoever this person was, they saw me when we were all stopped on the interstate, waiting for the emergency vehicles to clear the scene. It’s very clear from the stickers I have on my car, one of my university’s name and one that said “Dog Mom” that I was a likely a college-aged female. All this person had to do was end up next to me, see that I was a female driving alone on the interstate in the middle of the night and have just the wrong intentions. So, to the crazy person who followed me for an hour on the dark, rainy interstate, let’s not meet.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/irqx17/the_interstate_incident/

LetsNotMeet

JauntyJournalist23

Followed From The Underpass

This happened around 4 months ago. I debated over whether or not I should even post it considering for a time I wasn't sure if I was just being paranoid considering I watch a lot of true crime. Looking back now it creeps me out to think of what could have happened if I hadn't acted how I did, yeah sure, I could still be paranoid but something in my gut says I'm not. I get to my back gate from a small path at the start of a creek just off a main road. You can go the longer way around to get to my front door but usually I just take the back gate because it's quicker. The creek is on the left side of the path, surrounded by trees. The local council has a problem with how many bats live there. The right side of the path is the backs of houses, some have gates like mine. If you follow the main road for a bit there's an underpass that is always covered with graffiti, it always gets painted over only for more graffiti to appear and the cycle continues. I was hanging out with a friend, we went on a bike ride and had a picnic before school would start back up again. It had gotten pretty dark by the time I was heading back. I went through the underpass, which in itself is a sketchy thing to do at night, especially considering I'm a sixteen year old, 5ft 4 female. I got onto the main road and started riding in the bicycle lane and noticed all the bats in the sky, it was rather pretty actually, I also noticed two cars by the curb on the other side of the road with their lights on, one of the cars was black and had tinted windows and another was a bigger 4WD car, also black with tinted windows that had a mattress tied to the roof. I just assumed someone was having a party or whatever and kept biking. I heard cars behind me but that's not unusual considering it's a main road, even if it does get pretty quiet at night. They slowed down so they were driving behind me which was odd. I was guessing it was just because they didn't want to hit me, I mean, no one was on the other side of the road, I was in the bicycle lane, they could have over taken me if they had wanted to. I found myself biking even faster because I felt bad I was the reason they were driving so slow. As I was thinking this, a car overtook me but it didn't speed off or anything, it remained driving at my speed just in front of me. It was then I noticed there had been a car behind that car that was also driving at my speed but just behind me. Needless to say I felt pretty creeped out being sandwiched between these two cars when I realised they were the same ones that were parked on the other side of the road earlier. The fact they were pretty much the exact sort of car you think of when you think of a creepy car didn't help either. I kept biking till I got to the path by the creek I usually take to get to my back gate. I was having second thoughts though, it was dark, not many people take that path and it was surrounded by trees. Not to mention how creeped out I felt by what was happening with these cars. I thought it would be best if I turned down the path because these cars would probably just keep driving. But the second I thought that, the 4WD in front of me indicated to go into the curb just up in front of the path. No. Nope. Not happening, no way was I going down that path now considering there was no reason someone would pull up there, there wasn't an entrance to anyone's house nearby or anything except the darkness of the creek. I was going to go the long way round. I over took the 4WD that had now pulled into the curb to continue along the bicycle lane the long way to my house. As I overtook the 4WD it indicated to leave the curb. They hadn't even been there 10 seconds, they pulled out as the car that was still behind me stopped to let them out. The 4WD went back to sandwiching me with the other car. Pretty much any remaining thought I had of this all being a coincidence went out the window. I turned up a path that goes by the main road. When the cars noticed I did this, they too, indicated. By this point my heart was beating so fast, I came up with a split second plan. I needed to turn left at the T intersection to get to my house but I didn't want to risk these cars knowing where I lived. So I continued going straight pretending I wasn't going to turn. They continued also. When it was no longer possible for them to take a left, I did a quick turn and sped down my street. I heard both of the cars speed off as well and I don't think I've ever biked faster in my life. I flung open the front gate and as I closed it behind me and my bike I heard speeding cars approaching my street from the left. I panicked and ducked down, peering through the gap in my fence, I had a sinking feeling I knew what cars would come past. Sure enough, the black 4WD and other black car sped past. So to whoever was driving those cars late that night, whatever it was you wanted, let's never meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ir3h0e/followed_from_the_underpass/

LetsNotMeet

Nazza24_7

He's still out there update: Steven has been charged with first degree murder for killing my friend

It's been three long years and I really didn't know if I'd ever be able to make this update, but for those who read [my story](https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/868kve/hes_still_out_there/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=shareso long ago I wanted to share some exciting news,) Steven Bacon has been [charged with first degree murder for killing my friend Makayla.](https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10158589759682808&id=8475622807) Thank you everyone for the support 3 years ago and for the thoughts of hope for my friend. I hope this update finds some people who remember my original story, I follow a lot of true crime and love seeing this kind of thing!

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ipv7ke/hes_still_out_there_update_steven_has_been/

LetsNotMeet

selkraps23

They know where I live

Sorry for the long story but I can’t figure out this persons motive. One night I was in bed with my bf, it was about 1:30AM. I get a text from a random number saying “Is this *my name*.. Sorry for messaging late and out of the blue like this but I don't think *my boyfriends name* is being honest with me and i need to talk to you”. We exchange a few texts and basically they’re accusing my bf of cheating on the Both of us. Obviously I was annoyed, but bear in mind it was June 2020, bang in the middle of coronavirus lockdown in the UK. We’d spent everyday together since March, he denied it all and insisted he didn’t know who this person was. The same number starts texting him, angry texts, calling him a “lying rat” etc. Not looking good for bf. But this is where it gets weird... this person gives no specifics, they won’t tell me their name, what my bf has done, only that he was a liar and that I was an idiot for believing him. I’d ask but they would just reply vague angry texts. They’re grammar and spelling was good, but they’d use slang words from our local area. We assumed maybe it was some kids who found our numbers off Facebook and were having a laugh so tried ignoring it. Then nothing, until my bf gets a text the following afternoon asking him to meet them at a local social club for “some company”. Me and a friend got straight in the car and went down there, no one was there & the club was closed cos of COVID.... But we couldn’t help feel like we were being watched, it was really weird. A few days go by and the same number starts texting me again, this time the text language is all weird like spelling mistakes and saying “yu 2” instead of “you two” that kind of thing, it felt like it was a different person texting me. They seem a lot angrier with me now cos I didn’t believe them straight away, THEN they text me; “Yur so dull” (...) “I see him leaving yur house earlier LMAO”. Cocky I said something like funny that where’s my house then, and they reply with my Fucking street name 🤯🤯🤯 they also knew things about us like the fact he was in the army (but I guess you can figure that out from his social media photos). I called them loads but it would just ring twice and cut off. Tried searching the number on whatsapp and on few social media sites, nothing. Only on Instagram the number would come up with a location of a film company in Raalte, Netherlands... when I’d google the number it’s provider is Tismi, I’ve never heard of it but looks like it might just be a fake number. They’ve never asked for any money or anything like that either. Don’t get why someone would go through that much effort just to wind us up. Last text I had was “Ok! Yu will see eventually LMAO” creepy. Any advice please?

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ior9yz/they_know_where_i_live/

LetsNotMeet

charl_mcalister

Axe Man In the Woods

Hey guys, brand new to this thread (and most of reddit). I just posted a photo on Instagram with this story as my caption and my friend told me to immediately post it here. It happened to me and my girlfriend on a hike a couple weeks ago in Washington. We shot this picture a couple weeks ago just before one of the scariest nights of our lives. Me and My girlfriend hiked a little over 3.5 miles down in the dark from this look out completely alone. She had a bad feeling about it from the beginning, and she really didn’t want to hike down after sunset. About half way down, in a portion of the trail so dense with trees the moonlight couldn’t even find its way through, we saw a light up ahead on the trail. As soon as we shined our lights in their direction, they immediately turned their lights off. As we approached from about 50 yards away, we started to get a bad feeling, knowing someone was on this trail in the dark. Once we were within about 15 feet of where the light came from from, we couldn’t find the person who shined it. Instead, we saw a lone camper backpack sitting upright on the ground, just to the side of the trail. Already on red alert at this point, we began scanning the trees with our lights, and asking aloud where the person was, knowing there was someone hiding nearby. As we side stepped slowly down the trail, we saw him. A tall but small bodied man, hunched over, with the backpack on his back. His small stature was hidden behind the size of his backpack, and he was perfectly still in pitch black darkness. When we shined our lights on him, just feet away and seconds from freaking out, I asked “how ya doing man?” Praying to god the guy was normal. No response, or even a glance in our direction. The guy looked angry. As he remained perfectly still, My girlfriend shined her light on the ground next to him to reveal a MASSIVE FCKING AXE. And before you ask, no it wasn’t even close to a climbing axe. It was over 3 feet long and looked as if he had taped a spike onto the opposite end of the blade. When he saw us looking at it, he glanced up at me, and slowly picked it up, stood up from the ground, and began moving towards us. My gf and I sprinted as fast as we could down the mountain and for the next 30 minutes we moved through the darkness in complete terror. We made it to our car, drove 45 minutes until we could get service, and reported it to 911.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/iobtq4/axe_man_in_the_woods/

LetsNotMeet

Maxloew

Dear neighbor, I can go out now.

Believe it or not but I always have been the type of person who attracted deranged people. I am quite young but I don’t count anymore the number of time I had meet creeps. This one however, I will always remember it for several reasons. Firstly because he was my neighbor and secondly because it could have end up so badly. I first met him when I moved to my actual apartment. It’s in a nice house divided into 5 appartements. Mine was on the first floor, his was on the ground and I had to walk in front of his window to get to the front door. At first I didn’t mind him, he looked kind of creepy but to me everyone looks creepy. Well, he did get angry at my big brother for only walking in front of his window but he never was agressive to me. Plus i spent most of the time studying and was back at my place pretty late. Life was going peacefully, I finished my studies and got my diploma. I found myself a great partner and I would have had everything to be happy if it wasn’t for my health. It was declining, nothing life threatening but I had to stay at my place instead of working. My life was pretty much boring and uneventful until one day, as I was tidying, my interphone ringed. Instead of answering it I just looked through my opened window and saw the neighbor staring at me. He was standing there in front of the front door, still and kinda threatening. I asked him if he needed something, waited for him to answer but after a really long silence, he just enters. I heard his door closing. It was weird but I had better things to do so... I just went back to sweeping my floor. A week later, all of his shutters were closed. There was an inscription on all of them: ‘sealed’. It did not look official, more like crooked handwriting and messy black marker. Once again I brushed it off as I was kinda glad the creepy neighbor was gone. I figured he got arrested or something. Once again, life was peaceful and two month after his disappearance, a nice dude started living in the appartement. A great guy, always smiling and ready to help. He had his head shave like the old neighbor but was chubby and friendly. Everything was good for a year but then, things went down. And oh boy! How ugly it got! I usually said hello to nice neighbor, he would politely ask me about my day, about my partner’s day and everything. That day though he did not say hello when I passed his window like he usually does. Instead he was sitting in his chair, staring at me with dark eyes and following my every moves. I still waved at him, smiling. I figured he had a bad day. Since then, he would passed daytime sitting in the dark looking through the window and his nights blasting metal while he laughed and screamed like a maniac. At this point, neither me or any other neighbors could sleep. We kept calling the police but they did not really care about some noise. I don’t know when exactly I figured the nice neighbor was the creepy neighbor but when I did it left me with a sour taste in my mouth for some reason. Probably because I knew for sure he had a history of violence and fight gone bad. Then one day I was at a friend for a week. Since my partner was working, he was keeping our apartment. I was shopping with my friend when I received a message that made me shiver: the neighbor let himself in our apartment. My partner did not noticed he left the door unlocked and the neighbor just climbed the stairs, opened our door and entered. I can’t say exactly what happened since I wasn’t there but apparently he wanted to shave my partner’s hair and eyebrow. He was delirious, having a hard time talking and just saying gibberish. My partner managed to get him out and closed the door. He was merely amused by the whole thing. When I got back, things were getting worst. First he would stop me and my partner in the street, completely gone, telling us how the only reliable source of information was our toaster. Then he started to corner me. He would wait for me to almost reach the door and would violently open his door. Then he would tell me how I shouldn’t go out, how I shouldn’t trust anyone but him. It was clear as day how bad his mental health was as his speech was more and more slurry and he would take long pauses while staring to the side. During two weeks, he managed to corner me four times. Not much, huh? It was the only four times I was going out alone in those two damns weeks. This period was awful: I could not left my apartment alone. I could not live my life like I wanted. I just stayed locked in my place waiting for my partner. Even with precaution I kept meeting him and the more I saw him, the more uneasy I grew. For weeks it felt like a hostage at my own place. I should have called the police. As our encounter were more and more regular, he grew agitated. He would fidget, he would look all over and kept getting closer. There was a point I could feel his moist breath on my skin. I did not know what to do, I was terrified to call the cops because all of our others neighbors were in vacation. I was afraid he would try to hurt me if I call the cops. Until this day. I had to meet my boyfriend at a bar near our place. My first mistake was to leave long after my partner. I quietly climbed down the stair, did not make any noise when I opened the door and tried to sneak away from his window. He saw me, he opened the window and for the first since what seemed forever, he told me in a clear speech: “Don’t go outside. Stay at home. If you need anything come to me or go out Monday at seven am.” I frightfully agreed and smiled at him, my hands gripping on my purse. I looked at him closing his window, I waited for him to turn his back and started walking away. When he saw me he screamed: “ DONT FUCKING GO!” I saw him reaching for his door. I felt my blood running cold. I was nothing compare to him, i had no strength. I was just a still quite sick person against a massive man. So I just ran. I ran for two minutes to the bar, passing bystanders who I am sure stared at me. I ran for my life and I kept running like this until I saw my partner and our friends at a table. And then, just then I cried. I collapsed on the chair and cried for three minutes straight. Later we all went back home, our friends hiding me. My second mistake that day was to convince the others they could go to the theater just three houses away from the appartement, that I would be fine since I would no go out. They left, it was hot so I opened the windows before turning the fan on. I was quietly spending my evening, sipping on ice tea and watching stupid videos when someone knocked. I knew who it was, there was only one person to pounce on my door like the maniac he was. I did not answer, I just froze on my couch. The only thing I was able to think about was that this thin door was the only obstacle between him and me. Then he started screaming... I did not get everything he said, the fan was covering much of the screaming but I still can remember some words. ‘Children of the devil’, ‘trust’, ‘open the fucking door’ and the worst one ‘you’ll burn’. Then there was the laughing, straight out of an horror movie. That’s when I heard him laughing that it dawned on me how alone I was. How we were the only two people in this whole house. How he could just snapped the door open and god know what he could do. I found the force to get up, I went to my bathroom and sat behind the door. And then I cried again, trying to muffle the screaming and laughing. I texted a friend who convinced me to call the cops. This time they answered. I called too late, he was already back to his apartment when they came. Three polite knocks, I let them him trembling. They were five, one of them on the step of an other appartement. He found a glasses filled with alcohol, partially drank. I still can hear the poison in his voice when he bitterly said ‘This asshole took liquid courage’. They believed me, they reassured me but at the end of the day, there was nothing they could do. I could just sit and wait, terrified. After this, I went to the police station and filled a report. I quickly learnt that two others people did the same as me. A social worker went to the neighbor, talked to him and apparently he sweared to not bother me again. After that, it was just loud musics in the middle of the night and nothing more. Still, I had this lingering feeling: it was not over. For two months everything went fine until one morning I opened my door and found a beer. I left it here and it was only gone late at night. Next day, same thing. He kept putting beers in front of my door for a week. It was 10AM, I was just out of the shower, dressed with a black t-shirt but still in underwear when my interphones ring. Like I always did and because my window reaches my belly, I passed my head through the window. There I saw a guy who worked in an office just in front of the house. He was maniacally screaming at me and doing wide gestures, obviously panicked but right next to him was the neighbor, grinning. It took me a couple of seconds to understand what was going on, way too much preoccupied by the sinister expression on my neighbor, but when I heard it... “COME OUT! THE HOUSE IS BURNING!” And I looked in the direction of my neighbor’s apartment. Sure enough, thick black smoke coming out of the open windows. I just put a jean and grabbed my key. No ID, no cellphone, nothing but my clothes and my key. In the corridor I smelt the smoke, I cough a couple of time before running out. I was frightened, I was confused. I was supposed to go to an appointment for a job only thirty minutes from this point but instead I was watching the house burning. I was fearing for my home being turned into nothing more but a pile ashes. The neighbor was just standing there, a glass full of an amber looking like liquid and this freaking grin. He was smoking, looking at the smoke while the working guy screamed at him. ‘You see I told you there was someone inside! I told you!’. I was still watching it all burn, asking myself how long it would take before the fire reached my appartement when someone grabbed my arm. It was a woman, one of my neighbor who also work next door. She grabbed me and forced me to sit on the bench with her. She took my hand and kept telling the neighbor not to approached me. She gave me water, she helped me contacting the person I was supposed to see for the job. Most importantly, she did not let the neighbor getting to me and stood in front of me the whole time, doing her best to shield me. The firefighters arrived quickly, along with the cops. They asked him basic questions like wether or not there was gaz inside but he mocked them, laughed at them. He tried to smash his glass on a cop’s head. That’s when they arrested. That’s when the woman let my hand go and told me this time we are free from him. The fire was put down quickly, only his appartement was burnt thanks to a great isolation. However, the level of carbon monoxide was high, high enough to kill someone if anyone would have stayed. All of his belongings were put in front of the house. Inside, the wall of the corridor so white when I left where grey and every place a screw was left a black stain on the walls. It smelled like smoke, like burnt plastic and wet ashes but we were fine. The neighbor was sent to a psychiatrist hospital and the landlord was finally able to broke the contract. A neighbor told me when he left that morning there was a beer in front of my door but when I exited in hurry there was nothing. The fire was ruled as accidental and we haven’t heard of him since them. Slowly, I was able to go outside without activating my phone camera and gripping my keys like knifes. I was able to climb down the stairs freely, after all this time. I was finally able to rest... but... The belongings stayed for a long long time and each time I passed to get to the front door, I saw his notebooks laying around. I always told myself I wasn’t that kind of person, I wouldn’t snoop around. Still curiosity got the best of me. Like I expected, a lot of gibberishes were writing down, some racist stuff and a lot of nazi symbols. Nothing that abnormal coming from this guy. Then I found something else, like a log. Still hard to decipher until it all clicked. Under my eyes were the times when people entered or exited the house. He kept traces of everyone’s moves. I found my pages quite easily. Each days for at least six months, he knew when I was alone. He knew when I was going grocery shopping, how long I left, how I looked when I was back. Each time I passed his window he would write it down, he would write comments which sometimes made sense, sometimes not. And most importantly... When the fire started, he knew I was still inside and he knew I was the only one left. I closed the thing and just went to my apartment. I closed the door like you close a case but still I silently prayed to never meet this guy again. Because if we meet again, I don’t know wether or not I will be able to tell the story.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/invtih/dear_neighbor_i_can_go_out_now/

LetsNotMeet

Pouyce

Something sinister is hiding into the woods.

Hey, folks. I'm kind of new and this is the first story I submit here, so let's get started. I must clarify this didn't happen only to me, but my uncle too. This was after Christmas Eve party, when everyone went home, I decided to stay, because my cousin and I were watching a movie. My uncle, who used to walk his dogs into the woods, next to a park, went off to take them out. Before this my aunt told him to don't do that, because it was too dark out there (it was around 04:00 or 05:00 am), he didn't care much, and he went off anyway, my aunt was still worried, so I went along with him. Once there, anything wrong seamed to happen, everything was quiet. My uncle and his dogs were having a relaxing walk, as usual, and I wasn't really paying attention to the surroundings when suddenly, the dogs went still. This wasn't that strange, they always stopped their way to stare and bark to other animals they noticed, like rats, birds, insects or other dogs. However, this time was different. When the dogs got still, my uncle and I noticed something was going wrong, the dogs wasn't angry or curious, they were kind of nervous, anxious, affraid. One of the dogs, the largest one, was growling and shaking. As my uncle started to get worried about that situation, we heared it. People in the woods, we did't saw how many, because of darkness, they were saying something... "We all gather here, by the blood of (incomprehensible) we (incomprehensible) thee and thy (incomprehensible)..." As my uncle and I heard that, he yelled for his dogs to follow him out of the woods, as we all left, he turned his head back and he only saw a slight movement of branches and shrubs, perhaps because these people were trying to hide. After all that happened he hasn't walked his dogs near to those woods nor when it gets dark neither. So, to the strangers in the woods, let's no meet.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/ine7t3/something_sinister_is_hiding_into_the_woods/

LetsNotMeet

Esteban1020

Pro tip: don’t be alone in a hotel room with creepy men who have bad intentions

Sorry this is a long one. This happened a few years ago but I still think about it to this day. I was on holiday in a city on the other side of the country celebrating my 21st birthday with my best friend. We were having an amazing night out with a few too many drinks and ended up meeting two guys, let’s call them Andrew and Billy. They seemed like really cool guys and we were into them so when they asked us back to their hotel room we said yes (obviously a silly idea but we were young and drunk). Things were great on the way back to the hotel room we were all laughing and having a great time. When we got to the hotel room there were two OTHER men there aswell, let’s call them Ricky and JD who were at least 10-15 years older than us (they gave us creepy vibes but we brushed it off). We asked Andrew and Billy who these guys were and they said they were their colleagues as they were in the city for work and the company paid for their rooms. So Andrew and Billy were in different rooms but we were all partying in Andrews room that he shared with Ricky. I got a little too drunk and my friend put me to bed, she said that she was going to Billy’s room and asked if I would be okay with Andrew and I said yes (keep in mind my friend didn’t have a phone either so we basically had no way of getting in contact with each other- another stupid thing I know). So I’d been in the bed for a while with Andrew just talking and chilling when he says “I just have to pop out and I’ll be right back” (I assumed he meant just out of the bedroom not out of the actual hotel room but he left the hotel room to get something from Billy’s hotel room). Anyway I was just watching tv in the bed when the bedroom door opens and I assumed it was Andrew but my heart sank when it was Ricky (the weird colleague), he walked into the room and sat on the bed (keep in mind I’m very naked at this point trying to cover myself with the blanket), he said “you do realise that everyone has left you alone in here right? It’s just you all alone, no one is here and no one can hear you” and continued edging closer and closer to me on the bed. At this point I was completely speechless and absolutely terrified, I was completely frozen in fear and I had no idea what to do. I tried to say something but nothing came out. He definitely sensed my fear and for some reason he just got up and left. A sense of relief flooded me and I felt silly for overreacting, that was until I heard JD (other random colleague) shouting “GET THE FUCK BACK IN THERE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! THIS ISNT WHAT WE DISCUSSED! GET THE FUCK BACK IN THERE AND DO WHAT YOU WERE MEANT TO DO! WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THAT WHORE JUST GET BACK IN THERE AND DO WHAT YOU NEED TO DO”. I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in because I was so scared but there was no way out and the only way out of the hotel room was through the front door and I had to walk past Ricky and JD to get there. I was just so terrified I had a million thoughts rushing through my head and I had no idea what to do but I knew I had to escape. I decided my only option was to just leave the room and be ready to defend myself if things were to go pear shaped. I threw my clothes on and grabbed my shoes, I opened the door and Ricky and JD were sitting on a couch close to the bedroom door, JD said ‘hey sexy where are you going in such a rush come and join us come here right now’, I said ‘no thanks’ and ran to the front door and ripped it open. When I got out I was so relieved but I was still in a random hotel in a random city with no way to contact my friend but I thought my best option was to go to the lobby and just wait. As I was walking I heard two men yelling down the hall ‘WHERE ARE YOU? WE KNOW YOU ARENT TOO FAR AWAY COME BACK AND JOIN US, YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO’. It was Ricky and JD. I was absolutely fucking terrified by this point I began sprinting to the elevator, I could hear them gaining on me, I never knew I could run so fast but I just continued and didn’t look back. I felt like I was running forever until I reached the end of the corridor and my worst nightmare had come true, I missed the turn off of the elevator (fucking idiot hahah). So I had to turn and run back towards where I could hear Ricky and JD still yelling down the hall way. I found the elevator and got in, I could hear their voices getting louder and louder and I didn’t want to imagine what would happen if they got into the elevator with me. The door finally closed after what felt like a lifetime. I thought I would go down to the lobby and just wait there because at least there would be people there so there would be some form of safety. I got to the lobby and realised that there was no one in sight, no one at all not even behind the desk. I sat on a couch and didn’t know what to do with myself. I was absolutely terrified that Ricky and JD would come to the lobby. Then I heard the elevator ding and the door open, my heart dropped, but it was Andrew. I told him what had happened and he was outraged that his colleagues did that and he took me to where my best friend was. Everything turned out fine but it could have been a lot worse. So Ricky and JD let’s never meet again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/imz7uz/pro_tip_dont_be_alone_in_a_hotel_room_with_creepy/

LetsNotMeet

pizza-bubbles

Volunteer Job

Abouymt 5 years ago I was volunteering in a listening service that was only aimed at helping children up to 18 years of age. Alot of training was required for this role, even though it was an anonymous phone service, if a child presented with a dangerous situation and we had their permission then we could call the appropriate authorities, e.g the police or social services. After a few weeks I was feeling settled in and I had taken many calls, the majority were just kids joking around, but there were many tough calls too. Most evenings after I had finished my shift, I would feel so overcome with emotion that I would fight back tears on the way home in my car. Having a small child of my own, pften made it harder to forget about. One phone call in particular really startled me and to this day I often think of it. It was about 9.45pm, 15 minutes before my shift ended and I was sitting around, I hadn't taken a call for over an hour and time seemed to moving slowly. My phone rings, and a petite, soft, female voice says "hello". I introduce myself giving a fake name as I always do and tell her a little bit about the service and about what we do and what we would do if someone is in danger. She says almost immediately "I need help, I'm babysitting my younger sister, she's only 2 months old and I'm 9. She's diabetic and she's turning blue. My mother and father are gone out. Please help". I felt as though all my training had gone out the window, I was panicking but tried my best to keep my thoughts clear and my voice clear. "Go outside and get help, go and knock at a neighbours house and call the nearest adult you see" I insisted. The little girl talked me through her steps and said she had the baby in her arms and was out in the street, listening to the noise of the traffic and sound of the night air, my heart was beating so fast, aching to know what was going on and feeling so helpless. I could hear the little girl speaking to someone, but I couldn't make out what was being said. Next of all, a lady came on the phone "I have them. Hello hello, I have them both. I'm going to take them to the nearest hospital". I thanked the lady and she told me that help was on the way. I ended the call and once I gathered myself, I informed my supervisor. She was as shocked as I was when I gave her all the details. She called the hospital in the area that the girl had given me and she also called the police. After an hour of filling in the mandatory documents, my supervisor followed up the inquiry about the call we had received and they said they had no such cases. Finding it quite strange, we finished off writing the notes and shut down for the night. My next shift wasn't until the following week, which I was grateful for,I needed the time off. When I returned after my week off, my supervisor called me into her office and informed that she had gone through my notes on the call I received and had gone searched the system for similar scenarios and keywords. She told me that every caller has a profile and that the girl who had called was a frequent caller and that she wasn't a little girl, but a lady in her early 30's in a psychiatric hospital and she liked to pose as different people but mostly as a child. This creeped me out considering the nature of the service and the fact an adult was abusing the service. This information angered me and also disturbed me. I felt silly and naive as I had believed this "girls" story. Over the next few months, she called a few more times under different descriptions and always posing as a vulnerable person. I wasn't there for much longer but that story always gives me the creeps when I think of it.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/imlm6l/volunteer_job/

LetsNotMeet

weezo28

The first and last time I biked to school

My mom was always very cautious of the bad things that could happen to her children. She would take all 3 of us, my brother, sister and I, to school in the morning as she worked close to the same time school started. I had been begging to bike to school since I got a new bike for my birthday a few months earlier. And she finally agreed. I was in grade 7, so 12 or 13 years old (and female.) My school was a 2-3 minute drive and around a 10-15 minute bike ride. I was eager to ride my new bike to school as I had also gotten a new helmet and bike lock to go with it. School started at 8:30-9ish so I left around 8, I liked to hangout in the yard with my friends before school started so I would always go earlier. The route to school was pretty much one straight line down one main road in my city. Now, it’s 8 o’ clock in the morning so it’s relatively bright outside and, again, I’m on a well-populated, main road around the time everyone is heading to work and/or school. So I’m about halfway to school and I decide to cross the street, but not at a crosswalk or traffic light, just kind of J-walking or biking, if you will. As I’m stopped in someone’s driveway, looking both ways to cross, I notice a black car pull up to my left and park on the side of the road. It’s a 2 door, Honda Civic-type looking car from what I can remember (I’m 21yrs currently) and all of the windows were tinted. I didn’t think much of it, the only thing that crossed my mind was maybe I was blocking them from getting in their driveway, so I continued on trying to cross the street. From the corner of my eye I see a man, dressed in all black with his hood pulled up to hide his face, get out of the drivers side and walk around the back of the car to the passenger side and before I get the chance to realize what’s happening he’s opened the passenger side door and is pulling me by the arm off my bike in attempt to put me in his car. And for what felt like forever, it was like every car on this street had disappeared, any sign of help was completely gone. One of the busiest streets in my city felt like a gravel road in the middle of nowhere with nothing to be seen for miles. It also felt like one of those awful nightmares where you try to scream but nothing comes out, so you’re just silently suffering until you finally wake up. But it was real. I couldn’t scream. I can’t explain that feeling any better than a nightmare but not being able to wake up from it. These things didn’t happen in my city so I wasn’t prepared for what to do in a situation like this, so I did the first thing that came to my mind... I aimed for the nuts. I shifted my weight to my right leg and kicked as hard as I possibly could with my left. I landed one kick, which I recall actually hurt my ankle a bit so I can only imagine what it felt like on the recieving end, and he instantly let go. I didn’t even look before I crossed that street, biking as fast as I possibly could, I remember trying to turn around to get a license plate but my eyes were watery from the tears streaming from them and it still felt like making any noise was impossible. I knew my mom would’ve been at work by now so I just continued biking to school, silently crying the entire way. I pulled into the school yard and dropped my bike, I didn’t care to lock it or ever ride it anywhere again frankly. My schools front door was locked 24/7 and you had to ring a doorbell to get in, so I did exactly that. The secretary reminded me that I still had time to play outside before class started and that’s when I was finally able to speak again, “I need to call my mom”, I screamed. The door opened instantly. I explained what happened to the secretary, then the principal, my mom and finally the police, who I had refused to talk to until I spoke with my mom. The police arrived to the school shortly and took my statement, then I went to the station after school to make another with my mom. A business across the street from where it happened had video surveillance but it only captured the bottom 6in of the guys car pulling up, his footsteps around the back of his car and then the car pulling away shortly after. Basically, no solid leads on who this prick was or is. The same guy with the same body description and car description went on to attempt to kidnap 3 other girls but still was never caught. I don’t really believe in a god but I do pray that he was/is never successful. So, whoever you are, let’s not meet.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/im57am/the_first_and_last_time_i_biked_to_school/

LetsNotMeet

UdontWannaN0

This Morning I found a notecard taped to my steering wheel; I wish I had thrown it away.

When I reached my car this morning in the apartment complex parking lot, I noticed a white 3x5 inch notecard taped to my steering wheel. I was confused how it got there since I was OCD about locking my car at all times. I unlocked the car and sat in the driver’s seat to better read the note. In black cursive writing the note read “*Take an alternative route to work this morning*.”. I stared at the notecard for a good minute trying to process how in the hell it would have gotten there. After letting my thoughts run wild, I tossed the notecard into the passenger seat. I started driving my usual route to work, thinking this was some kind of joke. As I waited at the red light to turn onto the highway, I picked back up the notecard and stared at the message again. In a manner aimed more towards speaking to myself, I blurted the words out “*Why the hell would I take a different route to work that would make it almost a 45-minute drive?*”. Realizing I was talking to a notecard, I looked at myself in my rearview mirror and laughed. The note card slipped out of my hand and fell on its reverse side onto my lap. Another note was written on the backside that stated… “*There will be a shooting at the red light after you get off the highway exit ramp. You will be shot if you take that route*.”. I felt a sickening knot in my stomach after reading. I flinched once I heard the car honk behind me, irritated by my distraction from the light which turned green. I stepped on the gas and U-turned away from the highway exit, almost causing a wreck as I did so. I took the long way to work and arrived about 20 minutes late. My boss, Butch, called me to his office the second I walked through the front door. I still had the notecard in my hand and quickly folded it in half, shoving it into my back pocket. “*Why the hell were you late*?” Butch said. “*I just had a rough morning and I had to take the back roads to get here*.” I said. “*Son, you’re full of nothing but excuses. This is why I am passing you up for promotion, I can’t have a senior manger working under me that can’t take responsibility for the little things he screws up*.” Said Butch. “*But Sir, I have the highest performance numbers of any other manager here in this building. You have nobody else here that has brought this company as much money as me*!” I said with passionate anger. “*Results driven, yes you are, but dependable? After this morning’s late instance, I just don’t see you as a fit for a senior manager. I need someone who is consistent. You can leave the office now; this conversation is over.*” I stormed out of the office and walked back to my car so I could just be alone and cool myself down. Still pissed off, I grabbed the folded notecard from my back pocket. I shouted out loud in my car at the notecard…. “*Stupid magic notecard! Does Butch just not like me or something? Why would he pass me up knowing I’m the best performer? This was the only time I have ever been late!*”. I yelled with veins pumping in my head. I opened the folded notecard, my anger quickly turning to shock once I saw a longer message this time. The message was written in the same cursive writing… “*Butch passed you up for promotion because he is having an affair with one of your co-workers. He was looking for a reason to downplay your hard work, he will announce her promotion tomorrow morning*.”. The anger came back into my flushed red cheeks after reading. For a minute, I seemingly forgot about the metaphysical anomaly I was experiencing with a magic notecard that was answering all my questions. Instead, my anger got the best of me, filling me with thoughts of going back into the office and beating Butch over the head with whatever I could find. Remembering that the notecard answered my question this morning with a continued note on its reverse side, I yelled out loud how Butch could just get away with that and if I had any shot of promotion in that company. I flipped the notecard over and saw the answer to my question. The note read… “*He will commit suicide in two weeks. Before that, he will take the life of your co-worker he is sleeping with; she gave him HIV. There will be two open positions as a result, both of which you will be able to apply to*.” I sat in silence reading the note over and over feeling disturbed and uneasy. I wasn’t supposed to know this, it felt pervasive and wrong to have access to this kind of information. I decided I needed to just go home and drove off, folding the notecard and putting it back in my pocket. I noticed police cars as I turned into the ramp leading to the highway, several cars were littered with bullet holes. I got home and poured myself a glass of whiskey, hoping the alcohol would somehow unlock a logical algorithm in my brain to help me understand what just happened today. I brought the bottle of whiskey to my office room, where I logged into my computer and started googling anything related to a notecard suddenly appearing to anyone. I found nothing but links to fictional books. Still sitting at my computer, I pulled out the notecard and folded it in half again. I asked it who put the notecard on my steering wheel. I took a long sip of my whiskey before I opened the notecard and read the words that followed. “*It likes to go by the name TRUTH*.” The words on the letter said. I asked the note card “*Is TRUTH a person*?” before flipping it around to the other side. “*TRUTH is not a person*.” The words said on the card. “*What exactly does TRUTH look like*?” I asked the card, turning it around immediately to the other side. “*TRUTH has 6 legs and 4 arms. It has no eyes, 8 ears, and 15 mouths covering its body with sharp teeth*.” My eyes went wide as I read the description in fancy black cursive writing, fear tickled my senses causing the hairs on my neck to stand up. I asked the card the two dreaded thoughts on my mind. “*What does it want from me? Why did it give me this notecard*?” I said out loud and slowly turned the notecard over to read the backside. “*It wants you to ask it that question yourself, its standing right behind you*.” I dropped the notecard after reading, but I dared not move. I just sat staring straight ahead into my computer. I didn’t want to see this ugly TRUTH standing right behind me. A few moments later, I heard somebody opening my front door. “*Baby, we really need to talk*!” I heard my girlfriend shout from the kitchen. I forgot I had given her a key to my apartment. “*Don’t come back here! Please just leave*!” I shouted, hoping she would save herself from the sight of this grotesque thing behind me. I heard my girlfriends footsteps getting louder and louder coming towards the office room I was in. “*What the hell has gotten into you?* *What are you………*” Her voice cutoff suddenly as it reached the doorway. It’s been 3 hours since I heard her voice. I am still sitting at my computer not daring to look behind me. I have kept the brightness on my screen turned up to avoid seeing any glimpse or reflection of the thing behind me. I don’t know if my girlfriend is still standing at the doorway, or if that thing did something with her. I have about half a bottle of whiskey left. I am posting this hoping anyone can give me an idea of what the hell will happen when I turn around. I decided as soon as the whiskey runs out, I will finally turn around. The description alone from the notecard has me scared shitless to face it, but eventually I will have no choice but to face the ugly TRUTH.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16le0k2/this_morning_i_found_a_notecard_taped_to_my/

nosleep

The_Unamed_one

The Shaman

I remember about 4 years ago my dad told me a story about the small little scar he has on his ear. One day when he was about 5 years old, he lived and partially grew up in a small village/town in Mexico. I don't know the specifics of where it was because he's lived in many small towns so i didn't ask. Anyway, when he was 5 years old him and his brother had just come back to his home after playing outside all day. Both of them were still pretty jittery after that they started playing tag in the kitchen. My grandmother was making food at the time and boiling some water. Well my dad bumped into the pot of boiling water and it ended up splashing all over the left side of his face. He stated that the water melted part of his ear off and parts of one side of his face. ​ Grandma was in shock and in disarray she had to act fast. So late into the night my grandma and grandpa and my dad went to a local Shaman, or Bruja. She had heard a playground rumor that there was a shaman in town and that she had the ability to heal severe wounds. My dad stated that he had heard weird chanting and whispers and strange choir like humming when they came close to the building. He couldn't tell much from his surroundings because he was in so much pain but he manage to make out what he saw when he went inside a brick building with other buildings connected to it. Almost like a small downtown shopping plaza but old. The Shaman had told grandma that she would need to have the child under her care for one night while they waited outside. The procedure that my father described was pretty bizarre. He saw the shaman mixing some odds and ends into a copper bowl with strange glyphs and writings on the copper bowl. ​ He then saw her put a strange small head not human but something different that he can't really describe may have been an ape of some kind and a liquid that he could only describe as blood. Then the shaman wrapped his face along with the contents of the mixing bowl in a type of leaf wrappings and from then on into the night all he heard was humming, and singing in a strange language. The morning finally came and grandma picked up her son and asked if he was going to be okay. She said that all would be fine but for the next two nights she needed to wear the beads that she handed her and that he needed to keep the wrappings on him and to keep her doors locked and to not go outside for anything while she had the beads on. So she did and, two days had passed and the beads were gone and so she got really spooked and went to check on her son and woke him up to check on his injuries. She carefully unwrapped the leaf bandaging and then saw that his injuries were gone. relived that her son wouldn't have a nasty burn scar the rest of his life. She went to the same place to thank and to repay her somehow, but when she arrived the building in the middle was gone. ​ It's as if the very building was taken to the sky leaving the pipes and gas lines exposed from the earth. She found burn marks on the floor and scuffing from where building used to be. She asked around the nearby area and asked what had happened the shaman that once lived in that lot and what happened to her building everyone told her that there was never a building there and that no such shaman or bruja lived around there. To this day she fears for her life and asks herself this question. "Who did I make a deal with, and what will they take as payment?"

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16manyx/the_shaman/

nosleep

the_ocelotking

I naively stumbled upon some cultish rabbit hole, Part 2 of 3

Part 1 of this story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16la9g8/i_naively_stumbled_upon_some_cultish_rabbit_hole/). ​ Now, I questioned if I was really a follower. It was a potentially dangerous idea. The other end of the line brings about more mysteries than I was already comfortable with. I think one could observe I was knee-deep by now. The work day felt agonisingly slow. Each hour felt as though it was ten, and I found myself constantly examining the clock, and was always disappointed by the muck of time that was holding me hostage at my desk. 5 PM was a blessing when it arrived. I began to recall a conversation I had with my mother at her home a few days before. I could not recall what was actually being said - some filler about the weather, my sister, other random topics. But what I could fully embrace was the feeling of that conversation. It felt warm. That hadn’t happened in some time. I don’t know, I just felt like adding that. It took until around 8:30 when I had mustered the courage to call the number on the card. A stupid decision, one out of morbid curiosity, and with a deep hope that I would nerve up and notify the police afterwards. To be frank, I would have believed that I would have done so by that point - yet I hadn’t. My curiosity was not only guiding me, it was *deceiving* me. I sat there, on the couch. My door was locked. The curtains were closed. I then called the number. I heard someone pick up. They did not say anything, perhaps waiting for me first. After some moments of nothing, I uttered a “Hello?”. “Did you get this number on a card?” It sounded like a man. “Y- yes, I did.” I was stuttering already out of sheer anticipation. “Describe it. The card.” I held it back up in front of me. “There’s not much to describe, it’s blank on one side, it’s white. The number is in purple.” A pause again. “Who gave you the card?” I now pondered what to say. How should I describe it? Would it be believable? I resolved that none of this situation was very believable to begin with. “He was wearing all black, he broke into my apartment. He looked dishevelled, kind of.” Silent. I really could not take this. I said something like: “I don’t know what it is you want from me. You’ve broken into my home twice. I don’t know what you’re running. I don’t know what this is, but I just want you to please leave me alone.” Silence again. Then the voice said, “Pen and paper.” I was confused, but followed his instructions out of sheer wonder of what he could possibly tell me to write. After a minute of scavenging for the items and setting them down (and already regretting that I was complying), I gave him an “Okay”. He then gave me the name of a website, that of which is still active to my knowledge. I will not disclose the name. I asked, “What is this site?” “You’ll find out when you go on. There are no viruses or malware on there. You don’t have to worry about that.” My computer already had a bunch of antivirus software on it, but it wasn’t top-of-the-line. One more silence, then I asked a question that had been burning into my thoughts and clouding them for some time. “Why me? Have you done this to anyone else?” Silent. “You’re (they stated my correct first and last name, and my middle initial), is that right?” I didn’t even know what to think at that point. “If that’s correct, you’ll understand. Thank you for your time.” They hung up. I felt like crying my eyes out again, but I was rendered into this speechless, emotionless state of shock that I can only describe as a fearful dissociation. I felt that I was viewing myself from another perspective. It was Friday, I only worked some Saturdays, the next day was not one of them. I let myself traverse into whatever rabbit hole I would find. The website claimed a secure connection. Immediately upon entering, I would find myself scrolling through video players, clicking on a few hesitantly. They were seemingly advertisements to a location near my residence - only a mile away, closer to the heart of the city. They would feature all kinds of people, young and old, some looking a tad more loved than others. Prominently, someone would usually be speaking to the camera about the wonders of this place (extremely vaguely), sounding like a junk-driven hippie. I recall one in particular that I revisited a few times, typed here: “Time is ticking. Everybody always likes to make up what they can. This world isn’t going to be easy for us. But we can make it together. Our community, at the tip of Illinois, comes together as one - when life has discredited us, when life has desecrated us. We always have each other.” Then the address popped up on the screen as the video ended. I now pondered what I was told on the phone. How would this apply to me, so they said? I would understand? I scrolled down further and found a link at the bottom of the page, titled “Flag to Be”. Here went nothing, then. Clicking on it, I was taken to a screenshot of a strange-looking poem on a white screen in large font. It read: “The foundation of society is built on the riches.All riches started from rags.Our bodies flail with flinches,Our skin met with pinches,But none can disgrace the colours of our flag. Our pride and joy not deep in drought,Our bones of steel are hardenedBy discontent from bargains.They state we are a cretin,But yet we are allowed.” In the bottom right of the screen, I could see it was written by “Fantaspider”. Allow me to explain why this shook me further. When I was in high school, I had this friend, for the sake of this story, that we will call Lance. He was born in Australia, and lived there for the first ten-ish years of his life. He once gave me and our mutual friends this trivia-esque fact that in Australia only, there was this short-lived soda product called Fanta Spider. For some reason, they found that absurdly hilarious because of Australia’s reputation as spider territory. Plus, he was the type to host parties in his senior year, at which he would always noticeably serve a lot of Fanta. So his friends gave him the name “Fanta Spider”, and it spread like wildfire. It was a stupid nickname and I wasn’t sure why it stuck, but he told them he liked it. Now I’m questioning.. is this the same guy? He told me years back that he had wanted to move back home when he finished college, which would have probably been a couple of years ago. Did he just stick around in freezing Illinois? Glenview isn’t that bad, I suppose. I no longer had his phone number, so I asked another kind-of-old-friend of mine. Sure enough, on the first try, she had it far in her contacts list. She did question why I was asking for it - to which I only responded that it had been a while and I’d wanted to reach out again. A tiny bit unnatural for me, but she had obliged regardless. I called the number, and it went straight to voicemail, an automated message. I scoured the website for anything else, but it was bare as bones, with nothing else to find. I went to bed that evening only to fall asleep deep into the morning. When I woke up and checked my phone immediately - albeit, a bad habit of mine - I found a missed call (my phone’s ringer was not on) from around 5 AM. From the exact same number I had dialed the night before. I called it again, and the other end picked up, saying nothing. “Hello?” “Yeah, who is this?” That was his voice. “Lance, hi, it’s Jen.” (Jen is a placeholder here for my real name) “Seriously?” He sounded gobsmacked. “Wow, you still had my number?” I had deleted it a while back. I was going through something. We then went over the rudimentary how-have-you-been-doing type of questions before I addressed the 'Fantaspider' alias I saw last night. “That.. yeah. Listen, I actually still live in the area, so we could meet up and discuss.” He gave a location and a time for later that day, and I agreed to it. We met at 7:00 PM at a cafe in Cicero. I observed that the place seemed pretty well-kept, then walked in to find he was sitting down at a corner table. We waved and I sat. Throughout our conversation, I told him about my job, my family, my father passing. He told me he had dropped out of Columbia College after a year. His single mother died of pneumonia, and he was growing increasingly lonely and depressed on campus. He gave up on his bachelor’s after his grades dropped drastically, he lost his apartment, was essentially rendered homeless, and quickly developed a drinking habit. He explained that he still drank occasionally, but it was no longer an issue. But then, his enthusiasm seemed to rise as he went about the group he encountered. It was named “Chicago’s Ark”. He mentioned someone on the street meeting him while he was homeless, and giving him a card with a phone number on it. He knew that it felt shady, but continued on regardless, unfeeling and uncaring. He continued to describe the eccentric but welcoming nature of the community, living near the middle of the city under an overpass. But I still struggled to believe it. I then described to him the events in my apartment, and he resolved to take me there himself one night to sort things out, in case this was potentially linked to this group, which he had doubted, but still believed as a possibility. He also mentioned that he could link me to this group for some money. He admitted that they engaged in some forms of illegal activity that he could not detail, but nothing serious and nothing violent. My interests were torn between both sides. I had been struggling to pay the rent already - what with being underpaid to begin with working a monotonous desk job, plus my occasional dash of compulsive spending. I inquired on how I could belong, how I was truly unfortunate at this time, what the videos had claimed to support and uplift. I was doing fine from an outsider’s perspective. “They know a lot of things around the city, probably stuff you or others would never know.” The connections they had in the city ran deep. Well, that was reassuring. I noticed throughout our conversation that a man was constantly entering and exiting the store to go inside the bathroom. He was wearing dark clothing and a pork pie hat, and I was rarely able to see any of his face. It pestered me throughout our talk. I only saw an eye of his when he glanced over at me for half a second before leaving the store for the final time. I told him I would think about the offer, he paid for my coffee, and I bid him goodnight. Yet, I could still wonder what he meant when he said this group knew things no one else would know. I was curious as to how far their criminal recreation went (not that I hadn't been there myself). The night passes, and Sunday arrives. My mail that day - I rarely had any - included one letter that both perplexed and severely angered me. My work had laid me off out of fucking nowhere. I then got a text from a work friend telling me of the same thing happening to her. Completely blindsided, I called the office, and they confirmed that many employees had been receiving layoffs, but would not give me any details. The week progressed in a lonely daze, save for one (increasingly rare) conversation with my sister. I received a call on Wednesday - from Lance. He asked if I had considered the offer, to which I confirmed that I had, but had not yet made up my mind. He told me he would respect if I was to decline, but abruptly hung up. Nothing felt normal. I drank a lot that night and imagined things I don't wish to describe. Friday was when I drove around aimlessly. I seemingly had no way of understanding anything now, so the best thing I could do was to let everything go, even just for a moment. Just don't think about this. And then I drove past my workplace. Or, what used to be, I suppose. The building was blackened by an apparent fire that seemed to have coated it, surrounded by yellow caution tape. My vision turned to a deep grey just looking at it. I then drove away. I think I nearly caused a collision a couple of times as an image repeatedly emerged into my head. The black figure on the subway. The dark shadow that was encroaching my reality almost made me crunch into another vehicle. My thoughts at this time included, but were not limited to: "This isn’t happening." "It's a mind warp." "This is not real." "*PLEASE DO NOT BE ALERT."* At home, I called Lance. From him, “Hello?” One may judge, yet I took a deep breath and accepted his offer. ​ Part 3 of this story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nak3a/i_naively_stumbled_upon_some_cultish_rabbit_hole/?sort=new). ​

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mbx0q/i_naively_stumbled_upon_some_cultish_rabbit_hole/

nosleep

Purple-Blue-Etc

When I was little, I met the thing that takes lonely and forgotten children. [Part 1]

Mommy wouldn’t wake up, and I didn’t know why. I didn’t draw any particular connection between that and the used needles scattered around her bedroom. After all, those were just her special medicine. They helped her body work right, so she would feel okay. She was always so sad and mean when she went without for too long, so I liked her medicine. But I didn’t like the way she had to get it, how all these strange men came into our home — men who made me uncomfortable with the way they smelled, the way they looked at me. But I figured they must be nice deep down, because they always helped mommy get more of her medicine. They let me and my dog Bandit play in the living room while they went to the bedroom, and a little while later, he’d leave, and mommy would be able to buy more of her medicine and feel okay again. That was what she told me, and that’s what I believed. God help me, I was only a child then. How was I supposed to know any better? But even as blissfully ignorant as I was, I could tell that something was horribly, horribly wrong. After all, I’d never seen somebody sleep with their eyes open before. They were wide and bloodshot, staring up at the ceiling as if in a state of constant horror at what she was witnessing. It made me uncomfortable, so I covered them with a blanket. Most kids, you’d figure, would’ve called the police. But the cops just weren’t a part of my world back then. I was always told that they were the bad guys, that they would try to take me away if I ever told them a single thing about mommy or the men or her medicine. I had no other family, nor friends, nor any other lifelines. I was on my own. My approach to the problem was… unorthodox. First I tried giving her more of her medicine, of course, but I couldn’t figure out the syringes, and I only cut myself badly trying. Then I tried to coax her awake with my toys. We’d spent so much time together playing with my power rangers and hot wheels, I figured it must’ve been her favorite thing to do. Bandit, as good a dog as ever, even tried to help, bringing his favorite raccoon stuffie and dropping it at her side. It didn’t rouse her. I tried for hours, which was impressive given my childhood attention span. But soon, concern turned to boredom. If she wanted to be lazy for a while, so be it. The first two or three days were actually pretty sweet. Mom wasn’t around to stop me from stuffing my face full of all the candy and junk food I could reach, or coloring all over the walls and floors, or sitting as close to the TV as I wanted as I watched cartoons or played my shitty Spongebob TV game. Our apartment was a dump in retrospect, crawling with ants and cockroaches, but to my eyes, it was my own personal Xanadu. It wasn’t long before problems began to arise, though. ‘Rationing’ wasn’t exactly a concept in my young mind. The snacks and junk food barely kept the hunger at bay, so I ran through them quickly. That left me with meals I didn’t know how to prepare, and cans I didn’t know how to open. Hell, I wasn’t even tall enough to reach half the shelves in the pantry. In desperation, I took to eating leftovers dredged up from the garbage and whole, dry bricks of ramen noodles. At one point, I managed to create a tiny hole in a can of tomato soup by smashing it on everything in the house, and took to holding it over my head so the tiny droplets would fall into my mouth. Still, no matter how starved I felt, everything I ate, I shared with Bandit. We were best pals until the end. It wasn’t until almost a week had passed that the thing first appeared. I was awoken late on the fifth night to the sound of Bandit whining and pacing besides my bed. The window rattled as a thunderstorm billowed against the house, and I could barely hear my own thoughts over the roaring of the wind. It must’ve caused a power outage, because the hallway outside my bedroom was completely dark. No, even *that* was an understatement. There wasn’t that gradual fade into darkness you’d expect; rather, it was like there was some point in the doorway from which no light could escape, like a solid wall of darkness blacker than I’d ever thought possible. Bandit was whimpering and growling at it, and I knew exactly why. Some primitive part of my brain was roaring with the instinct that warned our hunter-gatherer ancestors that a predator was stalking them from the shadows, in the same way that you can sense when a face is pressed up against your window even when the curtains are closed. Something was there. Just barely beyond that veil of shadows. It was too dark for me to even see a silhouette, yet I was still certain of it. But somehow I felt just as certain that if only I could close the door, I’d be safe. I don’t know how I worked up the courage to start creeping towards it. It was like the doorway was a vortex, pulling me forwards. I was shaking from head to toe by the time I finally stood in front of the door, peering out into what looked like an infinite void of blackness. I couldn’t see anything, hear anything, feel anything, smell anything… yet every single atom of my body was screaming at me that a monster was right *there*, inches in front of me, ready to swing its terrible claws out at any moment and drag me into that blackness. I craned my head to look up at the spot in the darkness where I was certain the thing’s head must be, and somehow I could sense a pair of eyes staring back. I slammed the door shut as hard as I could. I always kept my bedroom door closed and locked every night afterwards. And sometimes, I’d be awoken to the sound of Bandit whining and growling at it again, and I’d lay there in bed, paralyzed, straining my ears expecting to hear footsteps at the door, or scratching, or knocks. Somehow, the silence was scarier. The sixth morning, I found my mom sitting limp on the couch in the living room, those wide, vacant eyes burning holes into the opposite wall. I actually welcomed the sight. In my mind, it was confirmation she was only sleeping, as she must’ve gotten up and watched TV here for a bit before returning to her slumber. It never occurred to me that something might’ve moved her. Still, that look in her eyes made me uncomfortable, and she was really starting to smell, so I laboriously dragged her body back to her bedroom. The apartment was quickly feeling more and more like a prison. The windows were obscured by burglars bars and curtains I couldn’t reach the cords to, so the sense of claustrophobia was becoming suffocating, and all I could think about those sunny days at the playground in the park. I could barely tell if it was day or night anymore. And anything even remotely edible waa long gone, too, even the little crumbs I picked out of the garbage. I’d vent these feelings by throwing a tantrum over my mom, sobbing, screaming, begging for her to wake up, even hitting her over and over. Still, no luck. My final gambit was to just go knock on someone’s door and beg them for help. I was raised to be absolutely terrified of talking to strangers, but this time, my hunger won out. The room beyond my front door was creepy even in the best of circumstances: a cramped, musty Brutalist concrete stairwell dimly lit by sparse, flickering lights, cockroaches vanishing in and out of cracks in the wall. It was only standing there in the doorway, taking in the silence, that I finally realized something which, above all else, turned my blood to ice. For this entire week, I hadn’t heard a single noise from my neighbors. Not once. If you’ve ever lived in an apartment complex, you know the constant cacophony of your neighbors becomes the background music of your life. But the man upstairs hasn’t done his usual stomping, and the couple beside hasn’t been arguing. It’s been days of dead silence, as if I were the only human being in the building. The stairwell seemed darker than it should be, and colder. I wish I could’ve told you some primitive instinct drove me back to the safety of my room. But what instinct could be more ancient and primal than hunger itself? I didn’t bother checking whether my neighbors were really still there or not. I could feel piercing eyes staring at me from the holes in every door as I passed by, as if eagerly waiting for me to knock. I didn’t give them the pleasure. All I felt I knew was that if only I could make it to the lobby, I could leave this terrible place and find somebody who’ll help. I wasn’t the only one who needed it, after all - I was worried for my mom, and Bandit, too. It was my love for them that helped steel my courage as I wandered down those concrete steps. The concrete floor felt like ice beneath my bare little feet. I knew my neighbors had long vanished, yet I could sense eyes staring at me from every peephole as I passed. Even if everyone else was gone, I felt certain that the kindly old lady from the lobby would still be there — that once I reached her, she would make it all better and everything would be okay. I don’t know why I felt so certain. Perhaps it was the dash of hope my young mind needed to brave that darkness. Imagine my disappointment when I reached floor *0* and there was no lobby. The stairwell just continued. And when I delved further, the floor signs read *-1*, then *-2*, *-3…*not that I’d any idea what those meant. I was crying now, but the tears were freezing upon my cheeks. It was so damn cold, and getting colder. It felt like something could come at me from any angle. I imagined hands suddenly reaching out from over the stair railings or down from the upper well, or even apartment doors bursting off their hinges as some monster rushed me from within. But when it did come, it came from below, while I was descending one of the stairwells. And long before it crept into sight, I could hear its heaving, crooked crawls scratching upon that concrete floor. My heart seized in my chest as she crawled into view at the bottom of the steps. She was a girl not too far from my age, with tawny skin and dark cornrows, and a pink *Dora the Explorer* t-shirt rendered almost unrecognizable by filth. I wish I could tell you she had black eyes and an impossibly wide smile. At least then I could comfort myself with the knowledge she was never truly human. But no. She just looked… sick. Her eyes were rolled back in her skull such that only half her pupils were visible, and her mouth hung slackly open, like a blackened pit from which vomit oozed down her chin. Her head twitched and jerked as if having convulsions, and she let out wheezing little croaks like an asthmatic frog. To this day, I struggle to make sense of how she ‘walked’. She laid nearly crawling along on her belly, pulled forward by her arms which appeared to have two elbows - in retrospect, they were digitigrade, shaped entirely like a dog’s forelegs. Her legs were worse still, impossibly bent forward over her shoulders, feet resting on the ground before her. At first I wondered if she’d been mutilated by some terrible injury, until I realized her legs simply had four or five knees, all bent in the wrong direction, allowing her to kick her feet against the ground to help her jagged gallop. She was a terrifying sight… but she wasn’t the main thing I was afraid of. I could sense she wasn’t *the* monster. She was just another victim. After all, the real monster was standing right behind me. It was the exact same feeling I had with the darkness at my bedroom door, but now I could hear - more, *feel* - its warm breath against the back of my neck, billowing out from only inches away. They were belabored breaths, as if multiple pairs of lungs were inflating with every inhale, yet still found a way to seem short, shallow and rapid. It was the frantic breathing of someone barely able to contain their perverse excitement and anticipation, like a perv at a peep show or a druggie about to get his next big fix. I didn’t wait to find out what it was so excited for. Instead, I sent myself leaping headlong over the stair railings. It was quite the feat of acrobatics and quick thinking, considering the railing was as tall as I was, and I ordinarily could barely count to ten. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I swear I could hear my mother’s voice, telling me exactly what I needed to do to make it away from this nightmare. I landed on the stairway below, and took off sprinting down the steps, somehow certain that my salvation waited somewhere deeper. I could hear the *clap-clap* behind me as the little girl ran on her hands in a jerking, twisted pursuit, all while the thing from the darkness followed just behind like a master guiding a dog by its leash. Every so often she’d brace those malfigured legs against the concrete and spring herself down a stairwell in leapfrog fashion, slamming into the walls behind me, missing by inches. My little lungs burned, my legs pushing me farther and faster than it should’ve been physically possible for any kid my age to accomplish. The numbers on the wall descended far deeper than was possible, *-14, -15, -16*, and soon they grew nonsensical, *-108, -489, -7,370*, before being replaced with inscrutable symbols or just being left blank altogether. Apartment doors began slamming open as I passed by, all revealing blank voids of darkness in which I swore I could faintly see silhouettes as I passed by. I ran past them without a thought. There had to be an end, a bottom to this fathomless chasm. There had to be. I don’t know how long I ran. You could tell me it lasted ten minutes or ten years, and I wouldn’t be surprised either way. I paused only when I reached a floor somewhere deep in that infinite abyss, and found the first deviation from endless stairwells: an ‘EXIT’ sign. I couldn’t read it, but I recognized that neon red. I diverted from the stairs, tore down that concrete hallway without doors or features or lights, disappeared deep into that fathomless dark… until, at the end, there stood my mother. No, not stood. Her feet didn’t touch the ground, and her body was pallid and limp, just dangling there, sickly yellow eyes bulging widely towards me. Her head bent at an angle, and overall it looked like someone had stuck a blade through her neck and pinned her body to the wall. It was grotesque, but my young mind didn’t notice, or care. I only knew one thing for sure. Mommy meant safety. I ran to her, wrapped my little arms around her dangling landings, buried my face in her dress and let the soft fabric dry my tears… and in a moment, it was all gone. The darkness, the frigid chill, the thing behind me. All the terrors of the stairwell. When I finally worked up the courage to open my eyes, I was home. Safe in my mother’s bedroom, clinging to her body right where I had left her. She wasn’t as warm as she used to be, and she smelled ungodly too, but she was still my mom, and her presence made me feel so safe, like I was being loved and cared for. Every reserve of energy in my little body had been burned, and then further reserves I didn’t even know existed. I crashed. Hard. I couldn’t even stand, or so much as move a muscle. All I could do was close my eyes and let sleep take me somewhere far away, all while hugging my mother’s body like a newborn hugs a teddy bear in its crib to protect it from the terror of a stormy night. That night, I dreamed of the branches of trees under the canopy of a starlit woods, and the warmth and sound of a grizzly bear eating something wet and stringy right next to my ears. I’m afraid I must end here for now. My apologies, even writing this much took a lot out of me. I figured I’d be ready to talk about it after all these years… but even now, writing from the warmth and safety of my office, I’m still left shaking at just the memory of that place. I promise I’ll be back to conclude my retelling, once I feel well enough.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16luvuo/when_i_was_little_i_met_the_thing_that_takes/

nosleep

nomass39

Quite Contrary Part Two

Part 1 : [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15e5rzc/quite\_contrary/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15e5rzc/quite_contrary/) I have finally moved into my eternal torment, but I will not stand by and let this continue if I can help it. If there are solutions to this problem in this world, then perhaps it will truly end with me. I adored my grandma, but I can't help but feel bitter against her for leaving me to handle everything on my own. I at least got one of the things I've been waiting for, which is where this whole thing started. The head maid of the ancient country Victorian mansion gave me the first journal of many that would follow. They don't have dates, but they do suggest what was agreed upon. Please pardon me as I can't seem to grasp all that is written down at first, but I will write out every detail. … The First Journal; I am grateful for the presents I received from Papa on my eleventh birthday, but I was unable to get them before he died since he died last spring, and my birthday is in the summer. As I write this, my grandmother gave me this journal, but what Papa gave me was genuinely lovely. Papa had given me a huge, lovely picture of a lady who resembled me but was older, tending to her garden, with Papa in the background gazing over her. Another porcelain doll that arrived with the artwork is another likeness of myself, even clothed in my favorite yellow garment with a magnificent bow that binds her lovely red tresses back. My papa's handwriting was scribbled on the bottom of her foot, Mary. Both the woman in the artwork and the doll have my name. … Father and mother are constantly far too busy to play with me, which saddens me, even though I dislike what father often says to me, "You're too grown to act like a child, Mary! You must put aside the toys and infantile outfits and become a charming young lady like your elder brother!" but I found his remarks troubling, as one Papa constantly stressed that I am still a child and must never forget that till I am of age, and also that I am a female. How can I be like my younger brother? It's illogical. Still, I am grateful to my nanny, Ms. Amy. A stunning young lady with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes! Even though she is supposed to be busy like the other maids, she is always eager to play with me. She enjoys singing and dancing with me in the meadows behind the mansion, where I host tea parties. She and I will always play with dolls, with me having Mary and Miss Amy having one of my many other dolls. … It's late at night, but I've been having difficulties sleeping lately. I'm not sure if it's due to my strange nightmares or if the portrait of Mary is looking at me in the middle of the night. Even if I light a lamp to point at her, her gaze will return to her own flowers. I'm sure I'm losing it, but I must keep it to myself. … Ms. Amy used to come into my room many times a day to help me bathe, dress, and even play, but now she only comes in when she genuinely has to and constantly asks if we may change our playing somewhere since it's getting too stuffy in my chamber. I can't help but be perplexed, yet Miss Amy was always looking at the Picture of Mary and never turned her back on it. I'm perplexed by what's going on. … I observed a maid in the backdrop right next to Papa behind the gate in the Painting of Mary today. She hadn't been there before, and I knew her as my old maid, who cleaned my chamber in the mornings. It's strange since the same maid never showed up to work today, yet she's now in my picture. I'm not insane; she was not around when I initially received this as a gift. Father, of course, does not believe me, and Mother is far too preoccupied with her daily activities to stop and listen to me. … I know there's something wrong with this painting! Why is it that no one ever stops to listen to me? Ms. Amy is no longer here, and in the painting, she is immediately next to the maid. It's all my fault that we all heard her screaming early this morning! Despite Ms. Amy's reminders, I failed to wear the stockings that were on my bed. She walked back to get them for me and then yelled from inside my room! I rushed back with another maid in tow, and inside, one of my windows smashed and my wardrobe collapsed, even though I knew it was too heavy for anybody to carry. Not only that, but there was blood on my bed and floor, and there was no sign of Miss Amy. Father says that she was hurt by the wardrobe collapsing on her and that she leaped out of my window or was forced out by the wardrobe, but that makes no sense! My wardrobe and the damaged window are on opposite sides of the room, and the blood cannot reach either! Not only that, but my room is on the third floor. Ms. Amy couldn't survive the leap, and she was nowhere to be seen outside my window, with no blood trail. I'm not sure what it is, but it has something to do with that artwork! It needs to be, even if it makes no sense! … My Mary Doll, whom I adore, was smashed this morning while she was sleeping on my bed with me. I was in bed reading since I wasn't feeling well that day, and Doll Mary was on my pillow near me when she cracked. As a chunk slices my arm, I scream in shock and anguish. I don’t know why, but when I looked up at the painting, Mary’s eyes were looking down at me. I screamed and ran out of my room to my father's study, refusing to go back into that room again, Father and Mother did agree to allow me to stay with them in their room for a little while as they believed I was still upset about Ms. Amy, but it didn’t last long as Father did eventually kick me out of their room, leaving me alone to go back to mine. That same week, I decided to gather all of my dolls and lock them up in trunks to be put up in the attic. Another Maid did put Mary back together and she went with the rest along with any other toys I had. I didn’t want the Painting of Mary to destroy anything else or take anyone else that I love. End of the first few entries. … That is all I got through for now, and I must say I am even more confused. Is this painting a replica of my great-great-great-grandmother's? So then it was made for her, and it must have already been cursed when her own grandfather gave it to her, or whoever did give it to her, as her grandfather was already dead before she received this gift. Honestly, I am a bit disappointed in myself, as I thought there would be more answers or even a climatic event that caused all of this, but my Great-grandmother Mary said it began almost as soon as she reserved it. Could it have been her grandfather who cursed us all? Wait, no, that isn’t right, as it seems he was close to Great-grandmother Mary, so perhaps it’s the person who painted the painting that was going to be given to Grandmother Mary. This would be a problem as they would be dead if that is the case, and these events happened 100 years ago, so I have no way of finding out who Mary’s grandfather ordered this painting from. Maybe it’s a witch, or perhaps a voodiest? Trust me when I say that when you see things that I have seen, you will believe in anything to make what you’ve seen make more sense for your brain to be able to digest it all. I am not sure where all of this is going to lead me, or perhaps it’s all just a pointless adventure to seek, but I can only hope there is something that I can find for the sake of my mortal soul.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16m4red/quite_contrary_part_two/

nosleep

SeveralPerformance79

The Shadowed Staircase

My wife, and I had always dreamt of owning an old, charming house in the countryside. Our dream finally came true when we found a beautiful, century-old Victorian mansion nestled on a secluded hillside. It was everything we'd ever wanted – picturesque, timeless, and surrounded by lush woods. As we moved in, the real estate agent had warned us about the mansion's history, which only added to its allure. The house had been empty for decades, shrouded in rumors of a curse that kept potential buyers away. But we weren't superstitious; we were in love with the place and couldn't resist making it our home. One evening, as my wife and I explored our new house, we stumbled upon a hidden staircase behind a dusty, forgotten bookshelf in the library. The staircase led to an underground room that was like something out of a gothic novel. Dimly lit, with stone walls and antique furniture covered in dusty white sheets, it was eerie yet captivating. Curiosity got the best of us, and we decided to investigate. The room was filled with old books, strange artifacts, and dusty trinkets. The most peculiar find was an ornate, antique mirror that seemed to beckon to us. As we gazed into it, our reflections blurred, and we felt a strange sensation of being transported to another place, if only for a moment. Over the next few weeks, odd things started happening. We heard faint whispers in the dark, saw fleeting shadows out of the corners of our eyes, and experienced inexplicable drops in temperature. She became restless, unable to sleep through the night, and her once vibrant demeanor was fading. One night, as I lay in bed, I heard her whispering to someone. I couldn't make out her words, but her voice was frantic and terrified. When I turned on the light, she was alone, wide-eyed and trembling. She claimed she had seen a shadowy figure at the foot of the bed, staring at her with hollow eyes. The next few nights were a nightmare. The whispers grew louder, and the shadows more sinister. hers condition deteriorated, and I began to see the figure too. It lurked in the corners of our vision, always just out of reach. The antique mirror seemed to hold the key to whatever malevolent force had invaded our home. Desperate, I researched the history of the house and discovered a dark secret. Decades ago, a family had lived here, and a young girl had mysteriously disappeared. The locals whispered that she had been taken by something from another world, a shadowy entity that lurked in the depths of the house. With no other options, I decided to confront the entity. Armed with knowledge and resolve, I descended the hidden staircase with the antique mirror in hand. The room below was colder than ever, and the shadows seemed to writhe in anticipation. I stared into the mirror and saw the dark figure looming behind me. It reached out, and I felt a searing pain as it tried to pull me in. I fought back with all my strength, invoking the girl's name from the house's history – Emily. The figure recoiled, and I shattered the mirror. A burst of light consumed the room, and the shadows vanished. Gasping for breath, I ascended the stairs, leaving the cursed room behind. With the curse broken, Sarah and I started to rebuild our lives. The house no longer felt haunted, and the whispers and shadows were gone. We decided to seal the hidden staircase, never to be opened again. But even now, we sometimes catch glimpses of Emily, the girl who had been trapped for so long. She appears at peace, her spirit finally free. We often wonder if it was her presence that had helped us banish the malevolent entity. Our dream home still stands, now filled with warmth and love. And though the mansion holds its secrets, we've learned that sometimes, facing the darkness is the only way to find the light.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16luzo1/the_shadowed_staircase/

nosleep

Objective_Nerve4814

I work at a nightclub for monsters and I screwed up.

It was just like any other day. As the rain softly pelted against my window, I was awoken by my alarm. It was 6 p.m. which was when I usually woke up for my job and as I opened my eyes I couldn't help but smile at how well-rested I felt. Sleeping during the day and staying up all night just felt natural to me. I am the textbook definition of a night owl and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just as the sun began to go down I started my routine. First I took a stone-cold shower and washed my hair and body, brushed my teeth, put on my makeup, and finally, a bowl of cereal before I got dressed in a white button-up and a pair of black dress pants before I walked the four blocks to my job at, Underworld. Underworld, was the nightclub I worked at and it stuck out like a sore thumb. While all of the buildings around it looked ordinary, Underworld was a solid black box with no windows. It had a giant red neon sign with its name, with the front door and an awning just below it. At the door was a red carpet and the bouncer, Jersey, standing beside it. Jersey was a mountain of a man. He was white, 7 feet tall, and had the greenest eyes I'd ever seen, as I strolled over to him he gave me the same look of disdain he always did as he spoke with an equally distasteful tone. **Jersey: "Percy told me to tell you to meet her in her office, meat bag."** Me: "Alright, Thanks Jerz." I could've sworn I heard him growl after I said that… **Jersey: "Don't push your luck."** Jersey would then swing his right arm, hitting the door open and motioning for me to go inside and I did as quickly as I could. I honestly don't know why he didn't like me…I thought I was a pretty nice person. I entered the main room and could see some of my co-workers getting ready for the Saturday night rush. Joshua was setting up the lights, D was setting up his laptop on stage, and some of the waitresses were all chatting at the bar. I was a little ashamed but I couldn't help but stare at them…they were some of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen and just as one of them caught me I was met with a swift smack to the back of the head as Percy, my boss said: **???: "Snap out of it."** *Rule 1. Don't look at the waitresses while on shift unless you absolutely have to.* I turned around quickly and noticed who it was. Me: "S-Sorry! I-I was just on my way to come see-" **Percy: "I'm sure you were."** He said, cutting me off. Percy was just as appealing as the waitresses. He looked to be in her early 20s with jet-black hair and a well toned figure. **Percy: "I just needed to tell you, that you'll be working the bar solo tonight. Red called in sick. Apparently, she's feeling a little under the weather."** Me: "Oh, that's fine…I'll stop by her place and drop off some medicine after my shift." **Percy: "Just remember to follow the rules and you'll be fine, okay? You're going to have a heavier workload without her here so don't slip up"** Percy was the only one in this place that actually seemed to care about me. While everyone looked at me like I was unwanted, he seemed to want me to succeed here. If it weren't for him I'd most likely be working at a McDonalds…but here I could make a handsome wage even if it meant getting treated like dirt. I always assumed it was just some sort of hazing but even after 4 months of employment I still haven't made a single friend at work. Maybe I'm just annoying to them or they don't like my attitude. Whatever the case, Percy didn't seem to mind me and I couldn't help but appreciate him for it. Me: "I won't, sir. You can count on me." Percy would sigh but smile as he patted my shoulder. **Percy: "Just be careful, kid."** With that, he'd leave me to prepare for my shift and I'd turn back to the bar. *Rule 2. Never under any circumstances run out of stock during rush.* I walked behind the bar and took note of what I'd need. I was low on multiple drinks and completely dry on a few others. After taking a short list I'd walk to the back freezer and grab a few bottles of various drinks and return to the bar to fully stock up…the drinks themselves never seemed appealing to me. Most of them were red and slimy. One particular drink that was popular was 'dead man's blood'…I had no idea what it consisted of but it smelled terrible and rotten. Despite this without fail it was ordered multiple times a night. Speaking of which, the customers we got were some of the most strange people I'd ever met and were downright creepy at times. *Rule 3. If a customer shows a particular interest in you or asks you to join them, politely decline and notify a fellow employee.* After a few hours, customers would begin to come into Underworld and would make a b-line to the bar to be served. There was nothing out of the ordinary that night. Music blared so loud it was almost deafening, Customers ordered the usuals, some made comments about me, and I stayed quiet. *Rule 4. Do not acknowledge any comments from customers. If they do not stop and continue, notify a fellow employee.* Comments from customers were a given working here and I assumed this rule existed to protect me as a female. Some customers would compliment me and give me praise and others would look at me like filth and call me "Meat" or any synonym for the word trash. I didn't really mind all that much as I was used to being disliked here but It was tiring at times and it didn't really help that none of my coworkers seemed to have my back. It was almost like they silently agreed. Tonight was a rather bad night. Most of my customers got angry with me over small details. Like how it was me pouring their drinks instead of Red or how their drink was poured slightly off. I would get a distasteful reaction from just about every other customer, which is why it was a nice change of pace when he showed up… Close to the height of the night a man walked into the bar dressed in a 2 button, black suit. His hair was a dirty blond and his eyes were as blue as the sky, with skin that was unnaturally clear. He without a doubt turned every head in the bar and when he came over to sit at the bar, my heart nearly skipped a beat. **Stranger: "Hey there gorgeous, I'll have some archfiend blood with a lime and your phone number."** I couldn't help but blush slightly but I was strong. I remained silent and got him his drink, pouring the purple liquid into a class with a straw and putting a lime on its rim. **Stranger: "Oh come on…I'm not a fan of the silent treatment. I don't bite. I promise."** *Rule 4. Do not acknowledge any comments from custom-* **Stranger: "Pretty please?\~"** I looked around and nobody was around besides customers…it wouldn't hurt to have a nice conversation. Me: "I'm…sorry sir I'm not allowed to give my number to people on the clock." **Stranger: "For real? Pretty stupid rule if you ask me. Make you work in a place where people hate you and you can't even indulge yourself a little?"** Me: "How did you know-" **Stranger: "Oh come on…it's not hard to notice how people look at you. I don't get it though. You're a solid eight\~"** Me: "You're not so bad yourself…" **Stranger: "Care to join me then? Take a little break and dance?"** *Rule 3. If a customer shows a particular interest in you or asks you to join them, politely decline and notify a fellow employee.* Me: "I…Can't. I'm sorry but thank you for the offer, sir. I mean it." He'd chuckle and lock eye contact with me…his once blue eyes beginning to turn a soft red. **Stranger: "Are you sure?"** Me: "I…Uhm…" I blinked rapidly a few times as I began to feel a little lightheaded and I tried to look away but I just couldn't. My body began to relax and the music started to sound far off in the distance like I was hearing it from another room all while his voice sounded perfectly normal…drowning out the music **Stranger: "Let's go dance."** *Rule 3. If a customer shows a particular interest in you, listen obediently to them.* Me: "Y-Yeah…Let's go dance." **Stranger: "That'a girl."** I walked around the bar and joined him. I couldn't think straight, it was like as soon as I had a thought I couldn't focus on it and I'd trap myself in a loop of trying to remember the thought only to lose it again. The man grabbed my wrist and led me across the main room…while this happened my heart started to race. I can't really explain it but it was like my body knew I was in danger but my mind just couldn't comprehend it… We walked right passed the dance floor and into the V.I.P section where there were booths that had privacy curtains. We rarely ever used this section of the club and because of that, there were only 2 booths in use at the time. **Stranger: "You know you're boss is a real idiot. Why he thought hiring a human here would be a good idea is beyond me."** He'd said as he pulled me into the booth and slid the curtain shut behind me. **Stranger: "I mean what did he expect? Why would I wanna drink from a bottle when I got the tap right here?"** Looking at his mouth I saw sharp rows of teeth that were jagged and yellow and as he softly chuckled to himself, his hair would begin to slowly fall out. **Stranger: "It's been a while since I've had a good drink of some premium shit but I'm sure the Bureau won't notice one little human go missing\~"** His neck would snap and crack as it slowly began to elongate like a snack…his formerly perfect skin, turning a soft grey hue as it became flaking and patchy. At this point my heart felt like it was going critical, beating so fast and hard it felt like it would burst from my chest at any moment and as this thing head slowly winded towards my neck everything seemed to click. The strange drinks…customers, and looks of disdain. I really was just meat to these people. My muscles began to cramp as my body desperately tried to make me move and as this thing bit hard into my neck I went into what can only be described as shock. I gasped for air as I felt his teeth rip into me and begin to suck on my blood and it was at this moment that I accepted the fact that I'd die… and as soon as I did my heart ceased beating. The snake-like man would suddenly pull back and start to cough like he'd just drunken something bitter and start hacking up my blood **Stranger: "God what the hell?! You taste disgusting!"** Without even thinking about it, I grabbed whatever this thing was by the head and smashed it into the wall with one hand. I honestly didn't know I was capable of such a thing…but when I looked at the results of my actions I saw that had smashed his head so hard against the granite wall of the booth that I'd fractured the stone itself and turned it's head into a mixture of rock and blood that leaked out of its remaining skull. I didn't feel a thing though…despite my neck leaking blood and the fact I'd just killed someone I just let go of its head and left the booth. As I did, one of the V.I.P. guests noticed me and immediately stood up to walk over to me. He was with a group of people and my presence seemed to stop what fun they were having. **Customer: "What are you doing back here?"** I didn't really register his words though…I saw him. I mean I really saw him. He looked like a normal person but I could see what he really was. Under his skin I saw fur and a K9-like skull with sharp, pointed teeth…the rest of the people at the table were like that as well, all having cups of a red liquid that smelled like copper. I just stood there and looked at him unblinkingly as he began to walk over to me, baring his fake human teeth with a deep, guttural growl. He didn't care that I was injured or covered in my own blood. All he saw was a human annoying him. And all I saw was a freak. **(Freak) Customer: "Answer me! If you don't get out I'm gonna call your bos-"** I interrupted him with the hardest punch I've ever thrown. Despite being only 5'11 my arm moved so fast I thought It'd tear off from the force and as my fist met this thing's jaw I heard an audible crack as a combination of blood and teeth exploded from his mouth. The blow itself sounded like a hammer hitting a melon and as I looked at him, I noticed that he was no longer breathing. It was at this moment Percy, Along with Jersey came in, with Jersey sounding annoyed. **Jersey: "Meat, the fuck are you doi-"** He stopped mid-sentence and I turned to see the two of them looking mortified at what I'd done…but I still didn't feel anything. Percy would quickly walk over to the nearest booth and rip the curtain from it to wrap around my neck. That's the last thing I remember. I must've blacked out because I'm now in Percy's office, completely alone. My neck is wrapped in bandages and I don't hear anything outside. I don't know what to do and I'm starting to fully grasp what actually happened. I don't know what to do and I don't know what's going to happen so I'm posting here in the hopes someone will tell me what I should do. What's happening to me? And what is this place?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16llo9y/i_work_at_a_nightclub_for_monsters_and_i_screwed/

nosleep

DeadStarSystem

If you pass by Oak Hill Apartments and hear my calls for help, DO NOT ANSWER!

God this was a mistake. This was all such a bad mistake. Ok. Ok. I am typing this on my phone… putting this down here for… I don’t want anyone else coming in after us and getting hurt. And I want people to know what happened. There’s five of us. My name’s Frankie Sato. I came with Sequoia Watson, Matthew Nguyen, Jade Paulson, and JT Brenner. Matt, Jade, and Sequoia are dead. I’m pretty sure JT is too, but I haven’t seen them. It doesn’t matter though. None of us are making it out of here alive. Or dead. Anyone who reads this message—if you get calls, texts from me, anything, *do not try to rescue me!* I will not ask for help. Don’t answer any calls from JT either. I’m sorry to do that to them, but just… DON’T. We went urban exploring. We live in—shit, I don’t want curious people coming. We’re in the Lowry neighborhood of a metro area. It’s this sloping neighborhood with mansions and some historic buildings, and at the crest there’s this huge old boarded apartment building called Oak Hill. Not just boarded up. It’s fucking *sealed tight.* We didn’t know why I swear we didn’t know. Now we do. So this morning, we got a message from Jade in our group chat: **JADE:** [\[pic\]](https://imgur.com/hYf5xex) **JADE:** [\[pic\]](https://imgur.com/caOTSq4) **MATT:** What’s that? **JT:** Oak Hill? Jade, are you there now or something? **JADE:** [\[pic\]](https://imgur.com/bmKhANS) **MATT:** Can’t see last pic’s dark. Are you inside? How did you get in? **JADE:** inside **SEQUOIA:** wtf? u serious? u there rn? **FRANKIE:** morning oh shit what **JT:** I am getting gear. Jade, you shouldn’t be exploring alone! **FRANKIE:** shit im getting my gear be there in ten always wanted to check it out **MATT:** Right, I’m coming, too. Let’s meet out front. **JADE:** dark inside **SEQUOIA:** kk, will bring xtra flashlights We all showed up around the same time. Bright sunshine on the streets around us. Green trees, traffic sounds. The Lowry neighborhood is in the heart of the city. Anytime we’d walk through on our way to the food co-op or downtown or the bar, Jade would talk about Oak Hill and wonder why it’s never been redeveloped. The building itself is brick, with the name OAK HILL carved into the stone arch over the boarded doors. Must’ve been nice apartments, back in the day. Now every window is blocked with metal gratings over the boards, rusted and nailed into the brick, so that curious teenagers and homeless folks can’t get in. No holes or gaps in any of these boards to peek through. Sealed up *tight.* Until today. “Guys! I found a way in!” called JT. All of us hurried over. JT crouched in the well of an egress window, their hand resting on the rusty metal grate. Below the window well, a section of the grate had been peeled back, the rusted nails popped out. The board beneath was broken off and missing. “Dang, did Jade cut that opening?” exclaimed Sequoia. “Must’ve been. This wasn’t here last week,” said Matt. “Really stupid of her to go in alone though…” Matt was the boss of us when Jade wasn’t around. I guess Matt was always the boss of us. Jade could be pushy but wasn’t a team player, whereas Matt kinda looked out for everyone and tried to get consensus. Jade’s kind of a badass but also really reckless and often just goes off and does stuff on her own, despite claiming to be our fearless leader. After Matt and Jade, I guess the next in charge would be JT—the thoughtful one. Sequoia and me, we were just along for the ride. JT dropped in first, flicking on their headlamp and flashlight. One by one, we followed. The window led into a small apartment unit with white walls, a narrow closet, doors leading to the bathroom and living room beneath the cheap popcorn ceiling. The apartment was totally bare except for this huge and disgusting stain on the carpet, reddish brown with spatters that bled out onto the linoleum. We fanned out into the kitchen, closet, bathroom. “Hey. I found a rubber ducky.” Sequoia, from the bathroom, squeezed a duck. *Squeak! Squeak!* I came over to take a look, but Matt barked at us— “Focus! We gotta find Jade. JT?” JT was opening the door to the hallway and stuck their head out, flashlight flickering up and down the corridor as I came and peeked over their shoulder. Most abandoned places, you have daylight shining in through windows or doorways. But here, with *everything* sealed tight, the only light came from the egress window we’d climbed through. The rest of the building was black as a tomb. Creepy. Dangerous, if your batteries run out. Fuck… my phone is running low. Maybe I shouldn’t be writing this. \*\*\* There’s no escape. Just going to finish this account since there’s no way out. Thought I heard JT but it was probably just that thing… Fuck… fuck! Sitting here in this bathtub in the pitch dark is terrifying. I can hear every beat of my heart. I’d almost rather run out there and end it… Don’t know how Jade was so fucking ballsy to come here *alone.* Though I guess, like us, she just thought it was an abandoned building. If she’d known, if she’d had a chance, I’m sure she’d have warned us. Jade was always brave… she’d have sealed herself inside and let that thing take her before she’d ever let us explore as far as we did… When she didn’t answer our phone calls or our yells, we decided to search. “What is this, a three floor building? Four with the basement… that’s a lot of rooms,” said JT. Sequoia dialed Jade’s phone again, while Matt called, “JADE??” Silence. “Probably gonna jumpscare us or something,” I nudged Sequoia. “Mmhmm.” She held up her fist, which I bumped. Matt sighed, giving us an exasperated look. “All right. Let’s split up—wait, *Sequoia!* Buddy system! You and JT—” But I was already waltzing out the door with Sequoia. Matt glanced to JT for help—he knew Sequoia and me would just goof off. But JT just shrugged, not wanting to get involved. “Fine,” relented Matt. “Frankie and Sequoia, you two take the second and third floor. JT and I will take the basement and first. Call *as soon as* you find anything. No pranking. Ok? Frankie, you understand?” I did a mock military salute. “Roger that!” “Roger that!” Sequoia echoed. “Roger!” “Roger!” Matt sighed as we took off “roger”-ing down the hall. Yeah I know we were real fucking dumb, okay? It just seemed like an empty, ordinary apartment building. Jade was gonna be fine. Everything was gonna be fine. It was all supposed to be fine. \*\*\* All the apartments had an identical layout, most with white walls but a few with beige and one with godawful lime green—“Why, though?” Sequoia asked, clicking her tongue in disapproval. We split up to explore faster. I ended up in a unit chock full of garbage bags, messy and *reeking.* Sequoia found one with ugly wallpaper and a battered baby doll. The next unit of mine had furniture still inside, including a bunch of chairs stacked on top of one another toward the ceiling—spooky! “Hey!” called Sequoia from across the hall. “Want lunch? Found some food in the refrigerator!” Meanwhile, our phones kept buzzing: **MATT:** Basement clear. **JT:** First floor mailroom clear. Etc., etc. Gawd. So serious. Then Sequoia texted. **SEQUOIA:** ur mom, clear. I laughed from the apartment I was exploring, and heard Sequoia’s peeling laughter from down the hall. Too bad Jade wasn’t paying attention to our hilarity. She would’ve joined in. We were about halfway through the second floor when my phone buzzed again: **JADE:** [\[pic\]](https://imgur.com/bmKhANS) **JT:** Too dark, can’t see it. Which floor are you? **JADE:** whi ch f loor are you **SEQUOIA:** girl r u waiting to try to jumpscare us? I was crafting a text to reply to the group when something winked in my flashlight beam. I peered down the hall, frowning. Near the end of the corridor was a door marked TRASH ROOM. Wedged into the door was a black satchel decorated with enamel pins. Drawing closer, I saw cats, rainbows, and one that read “bad bitch.” Jade’s shoulder bag. “Jade?” I called. I yelled back down the hall for Sequoia, but she was exclaiming about paintings and old balloons and some expired cookies in a cupboard. I sucked in a breath and shoved the door, throwing my shoulder against it because something was blocking it from the other side. Finally I forced it open enough to squeeze through— I tripped over legs. The flashlight skittered out of my hand when I fell, bouncing into the wall and coming to rest so that its beam shone back at me, blinding me, but also leading my gaze to glistening red. I looked back at the door, to the weight that had been blocking it, and my heart shot into my throat, my airways closing and my lungs tightening and every muscle snapping taut. I couldn’t get in air. Couldn’t get in enough oxygen to scream. Jade’s vacant eyes stared back at me, her head at an impossible angle, bent backwards to stare over her shoulders, her legs and arms twisted in odd directions like a broken doll. *BZZZZZZT BZZZZZT BZZZZZT* “Fuck,” I gasped, ignoring the buzzing of my phone. “Fuckshitshit—" I scurried against the back wall, under the trash chute. Fumbled my phone. Opened up my texts to type a frenzied message— **MATT:** basement and first all clear. Jade, you on the 3rd floor? **JADE:** 3rd floor **MATT:** Ok, coming up. Let’s meet in the west stairwell. I froze mid-typing, eyes on the phone because what the fuck—what the fuck—“3rd floor”? I glanced up at Jade’s body. How— She didn’t have her phone… “DON’T GO TO THE THIRD FLOOR!” I screamed, and quickly tapped on the keys. **FRANKIE:** DON’T GO TO THE 3rd FLOOR!!!! **FRANKIE:** JADE IS DEAD 2nd FLOOR TRASH DON’T GO UPSTAIRS I shrieked for them as I ran out of the trash room and into the hallway. At that point, I wasn’t thinking about making noise. Wasn’t thinking at all. I just screamed, “SEQUOIA!” And ran back the way we’d come, toward the apartments she’d been looking at with the paintings. No trace of Sequoia. I ran all the way to the stairwell and dialed Matt. After a few rings, he picked up. “MATT!!” “Frankie, what’s—” “Don’t go to the third floor! Jade’s DEAD!” “*What??”* “She’s dead!” I shouted. “In the second floor trash room I found her body she’s dead her neck is broken something fucking killed her—” I was hysterical. Matt on the other end kept saying things like, “whoa, whoa, whoa” and “calm down,” and I heard him tell JT, “It’s Frankie, freaking out, saying Jade is dead—” In the background, JT asking if it was a prank and Matt saying he didn’t know and then asking, “Frankie, is Sequoia with—" “NO! Listen, Matt? You can’t stay up there. You and JT, you have to leave NOW—” “Frankie, just chill—we’re coming back down for—” The phone went dead. No more words. No screams or shouts or any sound at all. Just—suddenly—dead. Just silence. “Matt!” I whimpered. “Matt!” I tried calling back. But it didn’t connect. Tried calling JT but got no answer there, either. When I tried calling Sequoia, her ringtone, a cutesy bubbly anime song, came drifting out from down the hallway. Not far. The room with the stacked chairs. The phone rang for awhile before going to voicemail. So I dialed again. That same bubbly song. Still no response from Sequoia. I inched my way down the hall, my flashlight beam shaking. Poked my head into the apartment with the chairs and swung around the beam. Its light fell across—old papers, broken gratings and a discarded furnace filter. *Drip… drip…* The stack of chairs in the center of the room climbed to the ceiling. There was a hole in the ceiling, above the chairs. And from it… a pair of legs, dangling. The cutesy anime ringtone kept going, and now I saw a faint light emanating from the jeans pocket. “Sequoia,” I whispered, inching closer. That dripping… oh God, was that… crimson trickled down the wood of the chairs… The body came down suddenly, slipping through the hole and bringing down the cascade of chairs in a crash. I screamed, fleeing from the noise before I even knew that I was running. But I’d seen what was left of her—just the bottom half came tumbling down through that hole ohGodohGod— I ducked into a closet across the hall, sliding the door shut and turning off my flashlight, trembling. That noise… whatever had done that to her, whatever had gotten Jade and probably Matt and JT, must have heard that crash. Must be on its way… My phone buzzed. I quickly silenced it before checking the screen. Matt was calling. I picked up. “Hello?” I whispered. “… llo?” whispered Matt’s voice. I almost sobbed in relief. “Matt… where are you guys? Are you okay?” “Are you o… kay?” said Matt. Something about the way he spoke, an echo of my words, chilled me. His vocal inflection matched mine, almost a mimicry. “What happened to you and JT?” I whispered. “Where are you guys?” asked Matt. “What happened to you and JT?” And then, something that turned my veins to ice… the soft rustle of movement in the hallway. A shuffling, and a faint wet smacking sound. “Hello?” said Matt. “Hello?” I didn’t speak. “Hello? …. Hello? Where are you?” I hung up. Messaged JT. **FRANKIE:** JT what happened are you OK? Matt just called me but I don’t think it’s Matt where the fuck are you? Sequoia’s dead. JT are you alive? No response. I waited in the closet. I waited for fifteen minutes before finally pushing open the closet door. “Fuck this,” I whispered. “Fuck this.” I had to get out. Crawled out from the closet and tiptoed to the door by flashlight. Then it occurred to me that if whatever got them saw my light, it would catch me, too. Panic sent my heart into overdrive. I couldn’t hear over the sound of my blood pounding. But there was no choice. I switched off the flashlight. Pitch. Darkness. The sound of my own breathing… I can’t describe how loud it was… how each footstep creaked or thudded as I tried to tiptoe down the corridor between apartments, feeling my way by touch. Listening. Listening for any sound, and cursing my own hammering heart for being so incredibly fucking *loud.* I just had to get to the basement. To the egress window. I was almost to the end of the corridor when I yelped at the blaring of that anime jingle. Sequoia’s phone. I covered my mouth and didn’t move for several seconds. Finally the ringing stopped. Nothing but a faint, occasional, *drip*… *drip…* I guess the upper half of her body was still leaking blood through the hole in the ceiling… It seemed to take an eternity to reach the stairs. Another eternity to creep down them, finally out into the basement, and peek into the pitch dark corridor. The tiniest trickle of light bled through the open door of an apartment, that feeble light coming from the broken egress window, opening out to the bright day. All I had to do was go climb through the window, and I could escape! I wanted to run so bad. Just make a break for it. Thank God I didn’t. As I crept to the door, a soft rustling sent the hairs on my neck standing on end, and I peered into the apartment. It was Matt. He stood by the egress window. Just stood there, in the dark. After a few seconds, he turned his head. Shuffled to the window and sniffed at the air. Shuffled back into the room. Swaying slightly. His footsteps… dragged. There was a puddle behind him as he moved. “Frankie?” he said, and I nearly jumped, heart leaping into my throat— *Shit!* Had he seen me? But then he cocked his head, smacking his lips. “Fr… ankie,” he said. “Frankie? Frankie.” Like he was practicing my name. I shrank back, retreating to the apartment across the hall. Shortly after I got inside, I heard footsteps out in the hallway. I don’t know if they were JT’s or… or if it was Jade, maybe… come to join Matt. The window is the only exit. I’m trapped here. Trapped with no way out. I’ve been typing this up for the past hour and a half. There’s nothing else for me to do here other than write this account. I can’t voice call anybody. I don’t dare make any noise. I don’t want my family trying to get in, doing something stupid. Recently I heard sounds outside… I think it was police boarding up the hole. This complex, the way it was sealed before—someone in authority knew that it had to stay sealed. The apartments are in good condition, and the city is low on housing. Pretty sure the reason the building isn’t in use is because… well, because of what *else* took up residence in here. I just checked… the light outside in the hall is *gone.* They’ve boarded the window. And I’m never getting out. God, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. My battery is low. I’m just going to post this and… fuck, once I do, I think I’m just going to go out there. Get it over with. I don’t want to sit here terrified and waiting to die alone in the dark. I think I’ll make one final break for it… Remember, if I message you for help after this is posted, or if I call out, *don’t* come looking for me. *Don’t* unseal the building. I will not ask for help. JT, I’m sorry. [Good-bye.](https://www.reddit.com/r/QuincyLee/comments/11nxwz3/welcome_thanks_so_much_for_stopping_by/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l5rtf/if_you_pass_by_oak_hill_apartments_and_hear_my/

nosleep

lets-split-up

Strange noises outside my door.

Somethings outside my room… I don’t know who or what it is. I’ve been staying at my house for the last month and I’ve been hearing noises outside my door. It all started about 2 weeks ago. It was a little past midnight, I was up watching my TV when I checked the time on my phone. I realized how late it was getting and decided to punch out and go to sleep. I turned off my TV and started to drift to sleep when I woke up to a creek as if someone had been putting all their pressure into a loose floorboard. I sat up and looked around my room and saw nothing. Assuming my mind was playing tricks on me I decided to lay back down and tried to hurry to sleep. When I closed my eyes I started to plunge into the abyss when I was awakened by another creek. This time it sounded as if someone was walking away. Now almost certain I wasn’t going crazy, I grabbed my bat by my bed stand and headed to the door. Not knowing what I was looking for assuming someone breaking in. I quietly opened my bedroom door and looked down the dark hall which was barely light up by nothing but a pungent yellow street light. Down the hall near the corner, I saw a shadow. Focusing my eyes trying to see what it is barely out of reach of the dim light, I could make out what I believed to be ahead. In a mixture of rage and fear of an intruder, I shouted “Who the hell are you what are you doing in my house.” *BEEEP* a loud car horn from down the road startled me, and I ended up turn my had to face the window out of fear as my body moved on its own. Turning back to where the person was I couldn’t make out the silhouette anymore. “Where did they go?” I asked myself. I proceeded to tiptoe down the hall with bat in hand trying to keep my composure. When I reached the corner I clenched the bat tight and jumped around it… There was nothing there what? I just saw them, I slowly reached for the bathroom door nob sweat drenching my palms. I swung it open expecting to catch the perpetrator red-handed, but there was nothing. I slowly shut the bathroom door and breathed a sigh of relief. *SLAM* “What was that?” I peered around the corner and saw my bedroom door had been shut. Now visibly shaking I crept back to my room opened and scanned it. There was nothing. I ran around my entire house making sure every door and window was locked while checking for someone. Nothing, thinking I was paranoid or just downright insane. I went back to my room crawled into bed and had the worst sleep of my life. When morning came I chalked everything up to it being a wild lucid dream and went to worm. 2 days later, I had my next interaction with this unknown entity. I was sitting up in bed on my laptop scrolling through Twitter, when I heard a light scratching at my door. Startled I assumed it was my cat trying to get in. I went to let her in but being so caught up I realized my cat had passed away not too long ago. Hand on the door knob I froze sweat dripping down my forehead. I decided to open my door but nothing was there. I decided to call it a night and sleep since I had work in the morning and didn’t need to hear my boss chew out for being late. Suddenly I woke up out of nowhere. I’m a heavy sleeper and I could sleep through a hurricane if given the chance too. I opened my phone and read 1:12 a.m., confused about why I suddenly woke up. I panned the room to be greeted by darkness. Then I heard it *chhhhhh* a loud long scratching noise from the top to bottom of the door was heard. So loud it felt like I had headphones on. After gathering myself from almost shitting my pants, I had a weird wave of nausea hit my head. It was my 20th shot of vodka and I passed out. I woke up in the morning and completely forgot about what happened until I saw the 1-inch thick nail marks along my door. Terrified I took a picture and left in a hurry to work skipping breakfast. About a week after that I haven’t had anything happen. While brushing my teeth I heard the creaking again, assuming it was my lard body cause I brushed it off. Then my lights cut out, assuming I forgot to pay the light bill. I hurried to finish brushing my teeth. When I went to open the bathroom door I heard a light knock. In shock, I sat in silence nearly pissing myself. *bang bang bang* the banging kept getting louder. I was in the corner furthest from the door curled up in a ball, waiting for the door to give any moment. The banging got so loud it was ringing in my head like bouncing a ball in an empty cave. What felt like hours was only a minute the banging had abruptly stopped. I sat there for a moment trying to figure out what the hell had happened and gathered my composure. Cautiously I opened the door, but there was no one there. I ran through the house trying to figure out what caused that god-awful banging. There was nothing. 3 days ago I was after not sleeping for what felt like an eternity it happened again. This time I had what sounded like a dripping faucet outside my room. Then I heard it, a child’s giggle. The giggle sounded painful like it was choking on its mucus or someone trying to get water out of their lungs. The giggling slowly turned into a painful laugh the a cry. The cry was so loud it was painful, I covered my ears to try to stop my head from throbbing. But that didn’t help it was like it was coming from my palms. In tears from my head throbbing it stopped. I sat there in silence out of nowhere a scream so loud it felt like my eardrums ruptured and I ended up passing out like I was hit in the head by a tire rod. Yesterday I woke up to what sounded like something dragging itself under my bed. Shuffle around and adjusts itself. I sat there frozen not wanting to alert whatever was there that I was awake. Then I heard the giggle… A chill ran down my spine I grabbed my keys and jumped off my bed. I went to run for the door but something caught my leg. I looked down and a decomposing blueish-tinted arm dripping water was grabbing my pants. Frantically I pulled and tugged and got free I booked it into my car and put it in reverse, but before I pulled away I looked up and saw my blinds being pulled open. Just a few a few inches signifying someone was watching me as I ripped out of my driveway. I'm writing this to you at 2 a.m. from a motel to warn you. If you hear strange noises outside at night you’re night safe. Your fate has already been sealed to be decided by this creature. She is here for me I hear her giggles.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lwerr/strange_noises_outside_my_door/

nosleep

Smugungi

She really, like, REALLY loved her housemates. And I couldn't save them.

*She was fucking perfect.* The voice in my head was new. I was no longer in my own body. I'm used to body hopping, as it's a family tradition, especially when we get older. Grammy calls it our rite of passage. We were bound to souls just like ours. When I was a little kid, my grammy held each of my sibling's hands and told them they were going to inhabit beautiful souls; ones that were full of hope. Maki, my little sister, was reassured that she would find a boy who needed her help with finding himself. While Jun, my older brother, would find solace in an old soul scared of leaving their family behind, and finding peace. It was fun to watch their eyes light up with excitement at the idea of gently enveloping with another soul. We were told not to be scared. It was completely normal, even if the thought of leaving our bodies was scary to me when I was little. Mom's explanation was that family, and our ancestors' souls had always been "loose" which gave us the ability to temporarily find new bodies. My ancestors used this ability to heal sick people, both in body and mind, dragging them from mental turmoil. I still remember sitting in front of my eighty three year old Grammy, eagerly anticipating my future. When she reached out and took my hands, she jolted like she'd had an electric shock. Her eyes flickered open, wide, and terrified. "*Only the wrong ones,*" was what my grammy had told me through a hissed out breath. She let go of my hands, shuffling back, her fragile body hitting the ground before she could get away. When she started screaming at me, both in English, and then in Japanese, Mom rushed in to gently pull me away so she could calm down. But grammy never calmed down. She followed us, struggling to keep herself upright, trembling, her wide eyes glaring at me. She was… accusing. Like I had done something… or was yet to do something. My soul did not become loose until last night. I gave up waiting for it, trying to ignore my brother and sister talking endlessly about their travels around the world, after gaining control of their ability, and soul-hopping to every lost or confused mind silently reaching out to them. I never understood what either of them meant when they told me of the sensation of being wrapped in warmth, emotions and memories lulling them, easing them inside a soul. Because all I felt was… nothing. Have you ever inhabited a body that feels nothing for both themselves and the people around them? She was numb. This body had intelligence, but beyond that, beyond an almost crafty way of problem solving, and not enough problems to solve, there was nothing, a deep, dark cavern inside her mind. My Grammy's words started to make sense. Her terror when touching my hands and seeing into my soul, and the future one I would take over. This girl did not have a name– or she did, but it had been drowned out, suffocated by her thoughts penetrating me like tiny knives. She was filled with excitement that I didn't understand. *Perfect*. She said, and then in a sing-song voice, "So perfect! So cute! Oh my god, I want to squeeze her cheeks! So naive! Dumb!" Her mind was a tumultuous storm cloud of everything and nothing, but there was no emotion I could cling onto, just like Mom had told me to. If I found love or pain, or even a stray memory, I would be able to anchor myself to the soul, no matter how *wrong* they were. But this girl didn't have a memory to hold onto, or an emotion I could confide in. Instead, there was… I could feel her mouth–now my mouth–watering, saliva pooling from her lip and down her chin. *Hungry*. No, **starving.** I had no way to adjust myself, already bleeding inside her no matter how hard I tried to fight back, battling the vicious, seeping black shadow suffocating her. Grammy had always talked to us about something called bad intention. We can see it. We can see the start of a bad thought or a bad action, a lust or a hunger. I have only ever seen it it in small doses. I saw the cloud hanging over the kids in my class, smiling widely at our class hamster. I saw it in my aunt when she was crossing the road with me, after having an argument with my uncle. This, however, was not bad intention. No, she had already carried it out. I blinked her eyes, struggling to ease myself inside her limbs. Her thoughts seeped into my mind, poison streaking through me. This girl's voice was louder than mine, already the dominant one, despite me being the one entwined around her. **Hannah!** Her internal monologue squeaked. **She's quiet and a little timid, wearing a polite smile that didn't know how to say no. Which is perfect.** Mid twenties. Also perfect. Probably has a toxic relationship with her family, since she was hesitating to share her parents details on the phone. She arrived on our doorstep with wide, curious eyes– like a deer caught in headlights. She complimented our hallway, commenting on the decor. I proudly remarked that the house was a perfect mix of modern rustic and ancient, a cheap and yet comfortable place to stay. She's impressed with the aesthetic, nodding and smiling at the stupid cat photos I put up as a nice touch. I can't tell if she's a millennial or Gen Z. Her naive attitude and patchy clothing choices says millennial, but I'm reaching more towards Gen Z. The girl has awkwardly said, "Like, for real" in three different tangents which either went nowhere, or I had to laugh off. "Hey!" I settled her with a grin, cutting off her random rant. Something about the traffic being bad, I honestly do not give a fuck. "You're Hannah!" Hannah nodded with her own awkward smile. She cocks her head, and I can glimpse an embarrassed blush blossom across her cheeks. She regretted ranting about traffic, definitely. The way she fidgets, her fingers going to her hair, and then the zipper on her jacket, tells me she's a nervous person. "Uh, yes! I spoke to you on the phone about moving in? I just came to check the place out," she blinked, and the girl who's body I was inhabiting, was practically vibrating with elation, her voice once again taking over mine. *Fake smile. Faker voice.* *Sooo cute! She's like a doll!* Her inner monologue continued, dripping with bad intention. The second I stepped inside that house, I could smell it, hanging in the air and dripping off of every surface. Grammy told us to avoid that stink like the plague. She didn't tell us what it meant as little kids, but as I hung around in her body, following the bouncing girl excitedly showing Hannah each room shadowed in the dark, I knew exactly what she meant. Hannah was in danger. Whoever these people were, had already planned out her murder in vivid detail, to a fucking T. I could already see where this girl was planning on laying plastic wrap on the flooring, to avoid blood splatters. Again, I tried to retract from this psycho, but the harder I pulled away, the closer this damaged mind and soul enveloped me. Until my thoughts were no longer mine. They were hers, while her mind spiralled, and I was stuck. I was stuck inside the vicious rotating oblivion, her words slamming into me. **Hannah wanted to meet the others, and I was like, what kind of housemate would I be if I refused?** **Besides, this girl was like, super dumb.** Perfect to fuck with. She didn't ask questions, like, "*Why is there no carpet in the lounge?* or "*Hey, so, is there a reason why your welcome mat has been scrubbed squeaky clean?"* Nah, it was oblivious shit like, "So, how long have you guys lived here?" To which I had gleefully replied with, "Not long actually! But, hey, we're already preeeety close! Like a family!" Hannah smiled warmly at that. *Found family– or at least the thought of it–always drew in lost boys and girls.* I showed her the kitchen, where Jonas, housemate number one, was on his laptop, frowning at the screen. I made my presence known, introducing our guest. "This is Hannah," I told him with a wink. "She's coming to check out the empty room." "Run." Jonas said, with a chuckle. I threw a cushion at him, and, being him, he hurled one back with maximum velocity. When he jumped up to kick my ass with another larger cushion, my gut twisted at what Hannah might see if she turned her head at just the right angle. Luckily for me though, Jonas gave up, instead shooting me a teasing smile and drawing his finger across his throat. Hannah surprised me by laughing at that, and I remembered how much of a good actor my boy was. Damn. He could really pull off a performance. Jonas offered her a nod, and then shot me a *be nice* look, to which I returned a, *Me? When have I not been nice?* one back. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his laptop. Wrong angle. Hannah's curious eyes were on him, while mine were waiting for her to see it. I blocked it out most of the time, but when we had guests, or when he was turned a certain way, you could totally see it if you were looking for it. Jonas shooed us away with a promise to cook dinner, and went back to typing. Jonas's Macbook was still broken, a splintered spider web of glass and plastic staring back at him. He was going to get tired of reading that unfinished email at some point, right?! Next, the lounge area, where Maddie and JJ were sitting in front of the television, watching some Netflix drama I had no interest in. I did a quick tour, making sure Hannah didn't stand in certain spots, and turned her attention to the modern decor, when her eyes went tor the ceiling. Maddie and JJ were housemates two and three. The two of them tossed me weary glances, smiling politely at our hopefully new addition. JJ pulled her into a hug, being his usual clingy and teddy bear like self, while Maddie stood by with a shy grin. "Where did you get the stray?" JJ commented with a laugh, and I shrugged, offering him the finger instead of an answer. Hannah had already taken interest in JJ. His handsome smile and thick, dark brown hair falling in sleepy eyes. I had to make sure she didn't look at him for too long. With Jonas, it was easier. I could just tell him to wear a hat. But JJ stuck out in plain sight. I waited for Hannah to notice what I had been struggling to hide, but her gaze also kept flicking to the nervous Maddie, who was thankfully more of a showoff in that room. Which took the heat off of JJ, and his… problem. With bright red hair pulled into a clumsy ponytail and doe-like eyes, this girl could attract anyone. I could already see she was panicking about what to say and do, but I easily introduced her to Hannah, and the two of them meshed well. Both of them were vegans, and had a soft spot for potted plants. When Hannah asked to see upstairs, I nodded enthusiastically. I had done this three times already, a fourth would be a piece of cake. "Sure!" I hopped up each step, shifting the carpet ever so slightly with the heel of my foot, so the red smears on the stairs weren't too noticeable. Jonas had made a real mess when I'd pushed him from the top stair, a nail sticking out of the floorboards going straight through his head. *Ouch*. He'd gone down like a sack of potatoes, tumbling down the first few steps. I thought he was already a goner, with the sickening, lucious sound of his neck snapping– but then he hit the hallway in a heap, head first, a particular long and rusty nail slicing straight through him. Stop. I couldn't stand it. Her voice was so loud, so invasive! She wouldn't get out of my head. And I couldn't escape her, these sickening thoughts twisted and tangled. **In and out, perfectly perforating** skin, cartilage and bone. His Macbook was next to him, the barely surviving screen still displaying the email he was sending. **Hi, [LANDLORD]** **I'm writing to you to express an issue we have with Amy. Each of us have expressed wanting to leave, as we have found an alternative place to stay. But Amy is not letting us leave. She has locked the door, and taken our phones, we need help, she's a fucking crazy--** There was a giant blood spatter where his head had made contact with the screen. I didn't mean to bypass him on the stairs. And my hands slipped! Then my leg! Kicking him backwards. Down, down, down he went! He perfected, like, the most amazing cartwheel, and then a front flip. "I like the pattern!" Hannah said, a little too over enthusiastically, for, I don't know, a generic carpet pattern. Her eyes were a little too wide, staring a little *too hard* at one in particular. I stepped over another stain, maintaining my smile. This time it was a pretty bad one, scarlet ingrained into carpet fibres. I spent so long picking up tiny pieces of skull. They were like cat hairs. I thought they were gone, and then I was picking them off of the soles of my socks. *Amy.* My own thoughts began to drift back, seeping into fruition. *This psycho bitch's name was Amy.* "Thanks!" I gestured further upstairs. "It's just been deep cleaned, actually." I showed her the bathroom next. Which was sparkling clean, obviously. It had taken me 4 days to fully dismember JJ's body, and I was still finding smears of red. Our bathroom was still pretty, a large tub and shower, and a toilet in the corner. Above the lid, were the vomit stains after I'd taken the first slice. It wasn't pretty. Cutting through a human body was bad enough, and the head? It took me sawing to finally get the damn thing off. With JJ, I got him in the shower. I mean, it's not like I could explain Jonas being dead in the hallway. I wanted it to be very Psycho-esque, but instead, I couldn't find a good enough knife to stab him, so I suffocated him with a towel. JJ was an orphan, anyway, so really, who would miss him? I was the only one who actually cared about him. When he was too tall to dump, I had to get… creative. And then I barfed up most of my stomach lining. Hannah didn't notice the greenish tinge on the tiles, instead picking up a rubber ducky, and making it hop across the edge of the tub. Yeah, she was definitely going to fit in here. I stood on a particular red splatter on the floor tiles, exactly where I sliced up JJ's body, my smile growing wider. When the tour was over, I made sure to crank the Alexa in the kitchen to the highest volume, to block out the unearthly wails coming from the basement. I might have had control of their physical bodies and minds, but their souls still cried out for help, sometimes banshee-like, splintering through the door doors. They wanted to move out, and I wasn't going to let that happen. Following Hannah to the door, I couldn't contain my excitement. Maddy was close behind, and unlike the boys, I had to keep an eye on her. She had already tried to open the basement door. I managed to stop her, but only just. Maddy was a slippery one. I noticed her backing away slowly, before I reached out and grabbed her, yanking her by my side. It's cute that she thinks she can fuck with me. I gave her my sweetest smile. "Maddy, it's rude to ignore a guest." And ignoring her attempt at formulating words, I turned my attention to Hannah. "What do you think?" "I like it!" Hannah said excitedly, her voice finally allowing me, not Amy, to take full control. But I couldn't move her lips, or try and thrust out my hands to stop her– to warn her. All I could do was take in the growing darkness choking the hallway, suffocating every living and dead soul in bad intention, as Amy's thoughts plunged deeper and deeper. All she could think about was the knife she had specifically picked out for Hannah– and how perfectly the teeth of the blade would slide across her throat, opening her up just like a doll. I caught JJ's eye, his empty smile. He was unknowingly swimming in it, already being twisted out of shape. *"When can I move in?* Hannah's smile grew with the idea of joining these guys, and Amy's twitching fingers went to her back pocket, slowly wrapping around the handle. There was that hunger again, that insatiable need clouding her thoughts. I could feel myself already retracting from Amy's soul, but she kept going, shooting a look at the others, who stood silently, eyes half lidded, lips sewed shut. Now I could see the phantom chains around their wrists, binding them to the basement– and their real selves. Jonas' head was twisted at an awkward angle which looked permently inclined, a bloody gash splitting the back of his head apart. I could see where Amy had sliced through JJ's torso, phantom stitches holding his head in place. They were crying out to me, screaming, their agony turning violent, a physical force knocking me backwards. The basement door trapping them inside rattled, phantom hands slamming into harsh wood, their wails cruelly stripped away, silenced. Amy took pleasure in their pain, their desperate attempt to warn Hannah, who was completely oblivious to her fate. The last thing I heard and felt was her voice, manicured fingers wrapping around the blade. "How about now?" … I can't stop thinking about Hannah, and it was hard enough writing you Amy's thoughts. They're still haunting me. I can't find her soul, no matter how hard I try. I'm too scared to look for Amy's. I can't find the house, or the location. I just know that somewhere in the world, there are three, possibly four murdered lost souls being held hostage. And I can't save them.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lf4r4/she_really_like_really_loved_her_housemates_and_i/

nosleep

Trash_Tia

It by me

The man in a white coat was walking hurriedly down the hall of the old building, each step creating a deafening echo in the silence around him. “Fuck” The man exclaims as he opens the door to a mess of an office at the end of the hall, he flicks the light and stumbles around the office slinging open drawers and cabinet looking for something. “Where is it?!” The man yells Where “clunk” the man’s hand slides his hand across the cold metal of the gun. He turns then… “silence”. “What the fuck?, it just ends there?” Mike exclaims stepping away from the screen. “Told you it’s an odd one” I say, “now, let’s go check the body” “Nothing?” Mike says “there’s nothing wrong with the body just cold” “We’ll then what was he shooting at?” Right then we hear a bang from the end of the hall, as we both spin around looking at the hall for the source. “Did you hear that?” I said already knowing the answer “Come on let’s go check it out” Mike says “hate this part of the job” I say letting out an unenthusiastic sigh “The main part?” Mike chuckled to himself Trying to replace our fear with comedy. We work our way down the hall, Me and Mike each have our hands on our service pistol, as we inch our way with each step around the corner at the end of the hall we freeze. Standing in front of me was a 6ft tall dog like creature that had more mouth then face, rows and rows of sharp blood stained teeth, and fur that was black, patchy, and covered in blood the beast shot its head up as me and Mike pull our weapons and immediately begin firing, What the fuck is that!” I scream as we start taking steps back towards the office. Mike just looks at me as with fear in his eyes as our bullets seem to do nothing more than scratch the beast. “Reload” I yell as I switch the mag to my pistol. The creature starts to slowly walk towards us, speeding up with each step until we’re all running down the hall, Mike turns to fire hoping to catch it off guard as the creature jumps and bounces off the wall tumbling towards Mike at full speed “MIKE!” I scream as the beast digs into his flesh, but I don’t stop I take the chance to grab Mikes gun and run past the creature and around the hall, As my shoes scratch on the ground further grabbing the creatures attention as it slowly picks it’s head up looking for me, it screeches as it runs and bounces off the walls as I make it to the red exit door. I slam my shoulder into it falling into a room full of desks and chair “Ah fuck” I yell Picking myself off the ground trying to pop my shoulder back in place when I turn to see the creature about to leap through the door when I slam it hitting the creature in the face. Quickly grabbing a chair and putting it under the handle as the beast slams against the door, not getting through until I’m almost to the stairs, I run and run sweat beating of my face as I swing the door open just then the creatures flys over my head landing at the bottom of the stairs, I quickly started running up as fast as I could feeling pain in my chest with each passing breath, “Fuck you, I yell at the creature” Going through another door at the dip of the stairs the beast close behind, when it dives and grabs my foot swinging me back and fourth until it snaps off like a twig. AHHHHH SHIT!! I scream as I fly through the air slamming through another door. The creature stepping towards me slowly spitting my leg on the ground. “What…, what are you I yell?” It seems to smile as it charges towards me, quickly I grab a metal pole from the broke door holding between the creatures open mouth as it try’s to bite down on my head, grabbing my pistol with my other hand I hold it to its eye and unleash every round left in the clip. The creature finally dropping to the ground, life fleeting from it’s eyes as I passed out. I woke up 5 days later in a hospital covered in scars, a broken shoulder and a missing leg, when I asked the supervisor if I killed it He simply smiled and said some folks are here from a government agency when 3 men wearing all black suits with a logo of 3 arrows pointing towards the center on their shoulder, the oldest of the 3 steps forward extending his hand saying “If you can tell me how you killed the beast I can get that leg situation handled for you, maybe even a promotion as he winked” I just smiled.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lw763/it_by_me/

nosleep

BlackPepper445

My parents told me not to follow the light in the water, I didn't listen. Part 1

When I was about nine years old, my family lived on a beach, a little alcove covered in trees, the cooing of birds, and floury white sand that dusted your toes. The kind of tropical oasis they make beer commercials out of, the ones the locals keep to themselves. I was lonely then, I was being homeschooled, and the homes nearby were only occupied for part of the year by retirees. We were there because my grandfather had gone missing long enough to be declared dead, and the property had been bequeathed it to my father, my father said he couldn’t bear to abandon what he’d be given. Not that they’d ever complain about it. Though a particular incident marred those days for me. I was holding my mother’s hand as we walked along the beach looking for shells, I had big cargo shorts on to carry as much as I could, and I picked up plenty of tiny, fragmented rocks and empty clams. The sky had a pink hue, and a wind moaned and ran through my hair. I shivered, and tugged at my mom’s hand to go inside. I looked back at the ocean, and I saw it, a golden light, below the surface of the water, like a lantern. It moved back and forth, and emanated a hospitality. As if the lights were left on to welcome an old friend coming into town. The frogs chirped “ko-kee”, “ko-kee” and the wind howled, and the light in the water seemed to glow a little brighter as the ocean dimmed under the setting sun. My mom tugged at my hand then “It’s getting dark” she averred, her forehead curled into her eyebrows, and her voice bore a tone of consternation. I wanted to walk toward the water, I wanted to follow the glow. I stood, somnambulistic, my toes digging into the fine powder that caked the earth. The sun drooping further behind the earth, the light, dancing, twinkling, all but calling me toward the waves that lapped and clapped. My mother tugged harder, starting to drag my bare feet across the sand, I could feel dew on her palm, and for just a moment I thought I could slip from them, and run into the ocean to greet my welcoming friend. But we walked, we trudged, up the little hill and into our home. I could still hear the frogs, and the wind, just a little more faintly behind the window. I could still see the glow, soft and ebullient, lighting the water and the water’s little waves. My father came over and drew the curtain, and I screamed. “I want to look at the ocean!” tears flowed down my cheeks, I felt a panic I had never felt, a tightness in my stomach, a need, my skin pricked me like tiny needles, beads of sweat fomented at my knuckles, as my fingers dug into my palm. My father refused, and told me that he couldn’t, “You must stay in at night, you mustn’t when it’s dark; you mustn’t look from this window” his voice was sonorous and foreboding, the words warbled, and ached in my head, I continued to cry, I didn’t answer. “Promise!” my dad’s voice grew, and the fear of angering who was to me a giant, elicited an acquiescence. “I promise” I said, my fingers still digging into my palms. My mother walked me to the bathroom where I brushed my teeth then we came into my room where I changed into my nightshirt. A long heavy shirt that reached down to my ankles, it was white with a large brown coffee splotch. It belonged to my father. I lied in bed, a blanket up to my chin, staring at the little shapes the popcorn-ceiling made. Scenes of men fighting monsters, of dragons, have creatures with strange eyes, and tiny bugs that froze in mid skitter. All little dots that morphed into new shapes whenever my eyes would turn. I’d look at these shapes until I fell asleep, dreaming of whatever scenes were stirred. My mother sat at the foot of my bed, and softly clenched my ankle from over the comforter. She spoke, “I know what you saw at the ocean today, and I want to tell you what’s down there” I didn’t say a word, and she continued. “The light we saw in the ocean is the old witch, and she uses a lantern to lure little boys and feeble old men to the depths” her voice was humorless, and flat. “If you follow the light, the witch will grab you, she will take you under, and you’ll never see any of us again. Believe me, she took your grandfather, and she wants all of us. Your father and me never go out past dark, we never look out the windows at night, and you can’t either.” “But the light was so friendly!” I pleaded; I couldn’t imagine that something so sweet could be insidious. “What does she look like?” I asked. She has a human face, and long tentacles that grab hold of you, when she opens her mouth there’s that yellow glow, luring you to the back of her throat. Her teeth are sharp, and they grind through bone. She wafts and glides in the water, entrancing you like a tick-tick-ticking of a clock” she annunciated every click. She clenched my leg a little harder, and I winced. She got up, kissed me on the forehead, and walked out, flipping the light-switch as she did so. In the dark I imagined the horrible witch, her teeth digging into my arm, my heart pounding as I struggled to breathe, adumbrated by the depths. But I had an urge to look at the window toward the ocean, to see the glow once again, if I didn’t walk out there, I thought there was no harm in only looking. I could hear my parents whispering in their room, I needed to wait until they were asleep. So, I lied there, little spots and figures floated in the darkness, and I struggled to stay awake. When I thought the whispering had died, and that my parents must be asleep, I crept my way to the window, and drew up the curtain. I could see it right away, that glow, floating in the water, beckoning. I couldn’t resist it for long, and I reached up to the doorknob, and twisted it as gently as I could. It creaked a little, and I hoped my parents wouldn’t hear. I walked out on the sand, the frogs chirped “ko-kee”, and the wind howled. The glow light beckoned, and that water splashed its little waves, it was surely safe to go in. The sky was dark so that the end of the ocean touched the bottom of the sky, and I walked toward it until my feet were in the water, rivulets streaming in my toes; I walked further in, following the glow, feeling the cool water on my ankles, sparks of water jettisoning up my calves at the occasional wave slightly larger than the others. I had to follow the glow. Soon I couldn’t touch the ground, and I was wading in place, just above the light, I could barely see except for what that golden glow illuminated. I heard my mother then, screaming, and running onto the beach “Come back!” she shouted, “Come in!” her voice shook. In a moment of compulsion, I dove in, I was further out than I knew, but I swam until I reached the bottom. I could hear the voice of my mother, distorted and truncated by the screen of the water above. My foot hit something, and I turned to look, in the glow of the light, I saw a cinder block, and a corpse tied to a rope. I screamed, bubbles filling the water, taking away my breath. The body was swollen with shades of blue and purple. It’s face cracked, and its hair dangled in the wind. I tried to swim away, but something caught my foot, I thought it must be grabbing me. I pulled, and thought of that sea witch with her tentacles, and her razor teeth, this must have been her meal, and now she was coming for me. I would stay tied to a rock while my body ballooned and ripened. I looked back at the body dangling in the water, and I recognized it. It was my grandfather, and there were holes in his shirt, something had cut through him multiple times. I could hear my mother’s feet stomping, running into the ocean. Finally, I broke through the grasp of whatever was holding me, and made it halfway to shore, my mother was in the water to meet me. We walked out of the water and she held me, both of us soaking and shaking. There was some seaweed wrapped around my ankle; my mother stopped for a moment. “Did you see anything down there?” My mother didn’t sound scared, but something else, it sounded almost menacing, as if she were daring me to tell her what I saw. Something told me I shouldn’t, and so I shook my head. “Good” she sighed, and we walked back into the house. 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/16lmk1j/my_parents_told_me_not_to_follow_the_light_in_the/

nosleep

jazzgrackle

Life on the farm

I’ve owned and operated a small pig farm my entire adult life, my father owned this farm before me, and his father before him. It’s not glamorous work, but it’s honest. Pig farming isn’t as simple as one would think either, you have to keep up with the latest in disease prevention and keep good track of the pigs bloodlines. My farm consists of a few hundred acres of fenced off woodlands, plenty of streams and ponds for the pigs to keep cool in hot months and shelters for the cold months. I don’t like the modern hog sheds where they live on concrete their whole lives. My pigs are big, happy creatures. A few years back my neighbors started selling off their farms to a big corporate pig farming operation. They made me a nice offer also, but I wasn’t interested in selling. That was that, they had their farms, I had mine. They built a number of huge hog sheds for mass production all around the county. A few miles down the road the corporation built what I assumed was their big office building. The office was a rather large, nice looking building, two stories tall and about the size of a football field. For the first few years everything was fine, no troubles from them. Then a few odd occurrences started happening. I first became suspicious that something was wrong when I went out to feed the hogs their corn one spring morning. I was filling one of the troughs to the usual happy reception, when I noticed a sow in that section that wasn’t one of mine. See all my swine were dark colored and woolly. This one was of the pink variety. That wasn’t all that unusual as once in awhile a neighbors pig would find a way through the fences and get in with mine and I’d just check the tags and get it back where it belongs. No, the problem was that this pig had very human like arm growing off the side of its right front shoulder. Not a grown man’s arm, but an older child sized arm. It wasn’t just hanging there either. That pig was using that arm to scoop corn out of the trough and bringing it to its mouth. It worked that arm good, that was no vestigial limb. After staring in shock for a spell I went for a rope to lead that one out of there. Thank goodness it was a sow because I sure as hell didn’t want that mixing with my stock. I’d never seen anything like that before. I took that thing out behind the shed and shot it dead. I burned the remains to ash, and didn’t tell nobody. Thing like that could damage my farm’s reputation. I went around the entire property and reinforced all my fence lines real good. No more of that business, or so I thought. Might a been a year or better passed without further incident. Then one evening I was out taking a count when I heard some feller calling for help down by the stream. I hurried down there and I seen something I wish I hadn’t. There stood a man waist deep in the stream just a calling out for help. This guy wasn’t from around these parts though. He was naked for one thing, and had a boars head growing out of the middle of his chest. As soon as he laid eyes on me the man’s head went all limp, and the boar head seemed to wake up and start to cackling. That laughing noise will haunt me all my days. I ran as fast as I could get back to the house. That thing giving chase the whole way just making that awful croaking laugh, and throwing rocks at me. I got back to the house and bolted the door fast. With shaking hands I called the sheriff. I didn’t say what was really out there, but said there was some naked lunatic on my property and if they didn’t get here fast I was gonna shoot him myself. Things got quiet out there for a bit. Then I heard this big thump noise from the living room. I grabbed up the 12 gauge and crept around the corner. At first I didn’t see nothing, but then another thump. It came from the fire place. This thing was up on my roof tearing bricks off the chimney and throwing them down into the fireplace. It had stopped the laughing and had begun carrying on for help again. Just yelling for help down the chimney and throwing bricks. I went over and stuck the 12 gauge up the chimney and fired off a round straight up. I heard it scrabbling around up there, then heard it jump to the ground and run off. Once the sheriff got there a good 2 hours later I described everything that happened sans the part about the pigs head growing out of that fellers chest. Sheriff said it’s probably some of them kids been smoking wacky tobbacy again and just to call if he comes back. I thanked him for his time and he went on his way. The next day there was some blonde lady at my door asking what exactly I seen. I told her like I told that sheriff. She seemed to be doubtful of my account and asked what I really seent. So I told her the truth of it. Strangely she didn’t seem too phased by my story and wanted me to sign some papers swearing I’d never tell anybody else about what happened. She wrote me a check that could have bought this whole farm twice over too. Gave me her card to call that number if anything else happens. So now I’ve branched out from farming. Now I raise pigs, and I don’t see things.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lc7vq/life_on_the_farm/

nosleep

Impressive-Arm2563

I Think Someone is Trying to Talk to Me Through My Nightmares

When I was a kid, I used to have these horrible nightmares about a man who would watch us through our window while we slept. At the time, I was living in a 2 bedroom apartment with my parents and two younger sisters. Our apartments were hacked out of this old house in Apache Junction, Arizona that was built in the late 60s. Each unit was just former rooms of this single-story estate that they quickly threw some brick walls between. Each of us had our own exits and “backyards” that were more like fenced off alleyways. Over the decades, other developments had sprung up around this weird house, some as tall as 3-stories with fully fitted attics that basically acted as fancy lofts or spare rooms. It cut this house off from the world completely, creating a barrier of houses with very few windows pointed at it because it was such an eyesore. 20+ years later and it’s the late 80s. Mom and Dad conceived me out of wedlock and were promptly disowned from their families. The only place that would accept two late-teenaged parents with shit credit was this weird Tetris house. Our neighbors were cliches. There was Old Man Wilkins in the South unit. He smelled like mildew and sweat all the time and he kept this mangy, ugly, feral cat in his house that acted more like a vicious guard dog than the furry corpse I thought it looked like. Mrs. Moira, as we called her, was an old widow who lived in the East unit. She was nice and would always give us Oreos whenever we asked for them. Jacob and Tamara Kitter lived in the West unit and they were a shady couple. I just remember we were never to speak to them under any circumstances and that they hated kids. Apparently, they filed several complaints when my little sisters were born because they couldn’t stand the crying. Lastly, us. We lived in the North unit, which was the most inconvenient unit to get to. The covered parking was south of the building and the only walkway to it was around the West side of the house because the AC boxes for each apartment created a wall between the North and East units’ shared walkway. Everything was supposedly fine for the first few years. Mom and Dad adjusted quickly to being cut off from their parents different forms of wealth and became dedicated workers. Our aunt, my mom’s youngest sister, who was only about 9 years older than me, became our regular babysitter while my parents worked. Mom got a job at a local diner as a waitress and my Dad wound up working as an auto mechanic. One evening, dad was running late and mom had to go in for a night shift, so my then-13-year-old aunt had to watch us well into the evening on a Friday night. She wasn’t thrilled, but she loved us. I don’t remember anything about this night personally, but my aunt still talks to me about it because it traumatized her. At 8:45, someone attempted to break into our apartment. When they couldn’t get through the deadbolt on the front door, they came to the kids’ room window. My window. My aunt screamed and closed our door, holding it shut because it didn’t have a lock. She heard glass break and someone tried to open the bedroom door from the inside. She had to put both her feet on the doorframe to keep it shut. She heard lots of terrified screams from Mrs. Moira, commands from Old Man Wilkins saying things like “Get outta there!” before whoever was tugging on the bedroom door let go. My aunt let Mrs. Moira in and Old Man Wilkins spoke to police and met my parents when they got home. It was nice to know that they all had our backs. Except the Kitters, of course. Nope. They filed a complaint with the police for the noise we caused during the scene. That was the first time I had even seen them and I DO remember their faces. They were hollow-cheeked, wide-eyed, and withered beyond their years. Tamara had string for hair that was thin and pulled into a wispy ponytail. Jacob didn’t have hair, but had huge sacks under his eyes and most of his teeth were missing. They looked so angry and when they saw me standing in the doorway, they stopped talking to the police and rushed to me to yell at me for being loud; for disturbing them. My mom refused to take a night shift after that and my dad surprised us with a rottweiler puppy called Samson. We called him Sammy. Sammy slept in the kids room on my bed, which is right under the window. The landlord was cheap and took forever to replace the window, so I slept with plywood nailed to the windowsill for about a year after the incident. My mom also had to put my sisters in daycare while I was in kindergarten because my grandmother accused us endangering my aunt. It was a weird year. We got the new window the night before I started first grade. That night, I had the first nightmare. In the dream, I was in bed sleeping, but I wasn’t really in my body. More like I was observing myself. I could see Sammy asleep by my feet and I could see out the window into the alley. This was the side of the house nearest the wall of AC units, so I could vaguely make out their angular shadows stretching across the nearby walls of the surrounding buildings. It felt like I was slowly approaching the window, like I was sinking sideways. I kept looking at myself in my bed, wondering why I wasn’t awake, but I couldn’t say anything. Then, I heard gravel shifting outside. Sammy’s head shot up, and twisted around to look at the window. I stared - helplessly outside my body - floating inch by inch towards the panes of glass. Something I couldn’t hear what triggered Sammy next, but he jolted to his feet. He let out a soft huff. I looked at my body, asleep, but with a furrowed brow. I could see myself having the nightmare. A loud bark from Sammy tore through the silence. Just one bark. It had been enough. A figure at the edge of the shadows darted away just as my gaze whirled around towards the window. I didn’t see who it was before I heard a voice that sounded like me, but somehow different. My gaze twisted back towards my body, which was now sitting upright, head hanging backwards away from me, mouth open, eyes shut, speaking in a voice too low for a five-year old. “He’s going to hurt them.” I was spun suddenly towards my sisters, who slept on the other side of the tiny room. Both of them were standing on their beds, eyes bulging, mouths bleeding, pointing at the window. A gurgling scream erupted from them. The way I snapped awake felt like someone slammed a book shut and I fell backwards into the bed. I had actually been sitting up like in my dream. I heard thumps beside me and, across the room, the girls beds were rattling in place as if they had just jumped into bed. I lunged out of my bed and checked on them, but they were fast asleep. No blood, no bulging eyes. I thought it was just a dream, that it was just pre-school jitters or something. Then I climbed back into bed and realized I couldn’t draw the covers over me because Sammy was standing on them. He was still staring out the window.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16lh9jg/i_think_someone_is_trying_to_talk_to_me_through/

nosleep

Basic-Contract8592

We were just trying to bring Gus back

That’s it, OK? It was an accident. Purely an accident. Gus slipped out the door and got hit on the road. He was the sweetest dog. I felt horrible. He’d been the Henry’s family dog for years. Mina and I had gone over to babysit their three year old Jack that afternoon. The Henry’s wouldn’t be back for a while- they were tailgating at a football game- so we ordered pizza when we got Jack to bed. That’s when Gus slipped out, chased a squirrel into the road, and got hit by a truck. Asshole didn’t even stop. “What do we do?!?” I shrieked. “We let the dog die! We are the worst babysitters in history!” Mina was sobbing. I felt miserable. I *love* dogs. This was all my fault. We wrapped Gus in an old beach towel we found in the garage. He was already dead. The truck had killed him instantly, as far as I could tell. His neck was bent at an angle that was sickeningly wrong. Mina gently covered his head with the corner of the towel. “We’re dead,” I said. “Completely dead. If they don’t kill us, my dad will.” We stared at the lumpy beach towel on the kitchen floor. There was a long pause. “I have an.. idea,” Mina said. “What?” “Maybe we could bring him back.” I stared dumbly. “How?” “Well, maybe we could google it.” We grabbed our phones and started searching. After a few minutes, Mina held hers up. “Here it is. *“How to bring a pet back to life.”* It doesn’t look that hard. Just draw a big circle, light some candles, and say a few words.” I didn’t believe in witchcraft, but I did know I would be grounded for eternity if my parents found out about this. “Ok. Let’s try it.” We rummaged around the house and came up with the stuff. Mina opened a box of sidewalk chalk. “Not in here!” I hissed. “Take him outside.” We both gently grabbed the beach towel mummy of Gus and brought him to the concrete patio out back. Mina pulled out a stick of bright blue chalk and began drawing a circle. Meanwhile, I assembled the candles. “Do you think I need to light all three of the wicks?” I asked, holding up a large Pumpkin Spice candle. “Or just one?” “Better safe than sorry. Light them all.” I had to admit, the candles and circle looked pretty legit when we were done. Sure, they were of assorted sizes and flavors, but I hoped they would work. “Ahem,” Mina said, reading from her phone. “We have lost our beloved friend Gus. He was a good boy. He’s gone too soon, and we invite his spirit back.” Then she read a long string of words I didn’t understand, before wrapping up with “Blessed Be.” “What was all that?” I whispered. “No idea,” she replied. “But it was part of the spell, so I just went with it.” We both stared intently at Gus. His body didn’t move. A few minutes passed. The wind picked up suddenly, ominously whipping the tree branches. “I think it’s going to rain,” I mumbled defeatedly. I think we both hoped he would jump up and start barking. I felt a raindrop on my face and stood up to go inside. “We can’t leave him out here,” Mina pleaded. “Let’s bring him back to the kitchen. We can just tell them it was an accident.” I nodded, and we brought the stiffening body of Gus back in the house just as the rain let loose. The two of us dejectedly put away the candles and chalk. I went to check on Jack. The door to his room was ajar, and when I pushed it open his bed was empty. “MINA!!” I yelled. “Where’s Jack?!” I heard a muffled “what?” from the other room. I walked quickly out to the main area, scanning for the little boy, and then into the kitchen- where I found him crouched over the unwrapped body of Gus. “No, Jack! Don’t touch him.” As the words left my mouth I knew something was wrong. Jack turned his head to face me. “Oh shit,” I whispered. The white’s of Jack’s eyes had turned a sickly yellow, and his pupils were unnaturally red. His skin looked sallow, almost jaundiced, and when he opened his mouth to hiss at me I could see his tongue was black. Then I noticed Gus. Gus had a big chunk out of his shoulder. Jack had been *chewing* on him. “MINA!!!” I screeched. “GET IN HERE, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!” She popped into the kitchen. “OH God, he’s eating the dog!” She wailed. “What the hell did that spell do! That was something you just found on the internet! It could have been anything! And now we have a dead dog AND a zombie demon baby!” I yelled hysterically. “Oh shit,” she wailed, “Grab him! We can’t just leave him out here!” Jack may have been demonically possessed, but he was still only 3. We each grabbed a pudgy limb and carried the hissing toddler back to his room. “We have to restrain him!” I yelled. “Go find something to tie him with!” Mina bounded out of the room and returned a few minutes later with fuzzy handcuffs. I stared at her. “At least they won’t hurt him!” she said defensively. I would have died from laughter had we not been so desperate. I tightly closed one fuzzy cuff around his upper arm, and clipped the other to the bars of his bed. Jack wailed loudly. “See if you can find a belt,” I huffed, holding him down. Jack’s face was red from screaming. She returned with one a minute later, which we used to secure his torso. “That should hold him.” she said. “Or at least prevent him from falling.” We retreated to the kitchen, ignoring the noises from Jack’s room. “Bring up that website. Maybe we did something wrong.” “Shit, shit, shit,” Mina said after a minute of scrolling. “What?” I asked. “Forgot the salt. We could have invited in.. anything.” ​ I jumped as my phone buzzed. I read the text. My heart fell. It was Mrs. Henry. *Had a great time at the game. Be home* [soon!](https://www.reddit.com/r/SunshineScarystories/comments/x88quz/story_index/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l7dpt/we_were_just_trying_to_bring_gus_back/

nosleep

sunshine_dreaming

I work graveyard shifts at a warehouse. There is one rule: Don’t turn off the lights.

I’ve always preferred nights. Something about being up while everyone else is asleep feels great—that, and I can’t sleep. ​ Ever since my fiance passed away, sleeping became a luxury I couldn’t afford. I used to lay in bed, tossing and turning, the entire night. My eyes would be bloodshot. When sunlight peeked through my blinds, I rose up and off my bed like a zombie. ​ Melatonin never helped. I guess my body grew an immunity to it over time. I mean, why wouldn’t it? I’m surprised I didn’t overdose, taking ten pills a night. ​ Herbal teas that ‘help you sleep’ are bullshit. Nothing but a waste of money. Don’t even get me started on those intense sleep routines: Shut off all electronics/artificial lights thirty minutes before bed, don’t eat an hour before bed, read a book, and whatever other shit they have you do. That may work for some people. Sure as hell didn’t work for me. ​ I even resorted to counting sheep—well, my version of counting sheep: Imagining millions of alternate realities where Vaneet was still alive. I laid awake, smiling like a fool up at the popcorn ceiling. My imagination got so vivid that I would see her silhouette in the corner of my room for seconds at a time. I wanted nothing else but to believe it was really her. To believe she came back just to say one last, proper farewell. ​ The logical part of me knew what’s dead will always stay dead. The other part of me found loopholes in that saying: What’s dead may truly never die… In my mind. ​ The sleepless nights and hallucinations took a toll on my mental health. I contemplated suicide many, many times. *Maybe I’ll be with her in the afterlife,* I thought. S*he's waiting for me.* ​ Thankfully, the logical side of me won, and I attended therapy. My therapist was, and still is, the kindest woman I’ve ever met. At first, I thought she was getting paid to act nice to me, pretending to care about my feelings. But no, she truly listened and understood. ​ When I told her about my sleep problems, she recommended that I get a graveyard shift job. It never occurred to me. I live in a big city—the city that never sleeps. There are overnight jobs everywhere. The perfect solution. I could just sleep throughout the day. ​ I applied to every graveyard job I could find online. Some rejected me, saying my work experience at a grocery store wasn’t enough. A few called me in for interviews, which went bad, I guess, since I never got a reply. ​ Only one job was willing to take on an inexperienced employee. It was a warehouse job for a well-known grocery store in my area. The pay wasn’t too bad. Plus, I had to start getting experience somewhere. ​ I got word from my new boss that two other people were starting on the same night as me. That was somewhat relieving. I wouldn’t be the only new guy. I always got stupidly nervous before starting new things. A Job, College, the Gym, everything. I feared the unknown. My mind would cope by imagining every possible scenario. By the time I pulled into the parking lot of the warehouse, I thought of one hundred and seventy-five scenarios that could go down. ​ Blue moonlight shone down on the warehouse. It had a gray steel exterior, with a ton of light poles lining the sidewalk. It was as if they wanted to recreate the sun with how many light poles there were. Just thinking of the electricity bill made my head ache—maybe the absurd amount of black coffee I drank played a part in that. ​ I glanced at my malfunctioning radio which displayed the time: **11:45** ​ The closer it got to twelve, the faster my heart beated. I pulled down my car’s sun visor and looked in the mirror. Only then did I realize how dilated my pupils were. *Shit, shit. I drank too much coffee. They’re gonna think I’m on drugs and then fire me–* ​ My overthinking got interrupted by a sudden knock at the window. I jumped at the sound—nearly jumped out of my own skin. My head hit the car ceiling with a thud. To my left, I heard some giggling. I turned to see a woman’s face smiling. Her eyes were caramel colored and hinted at a joyfulness. She had thick eyebrows, like mine, yet hers were well lined. She wore the yellow company polo, also like mine, but hers fit her body perfectly. Mine was baggy since they didn’t have a men’s medium size. Bracelets rattled on her wrist as she waved. ​ I felt extremely bad. How did someone as beautiful as her end up homeless? ​ I cranked down the window of my beat-up car and gave her an awkward little smile. “Uh, hey. Sorry I have no money. This is literally my first day—” ​ “Huh,” she tilted her head at me and looked around as if I were talking to someone else. She looked back at me and smiled with realization. “Please, just some change would suffice, sweet sir.” She giggled. ​ My cheeks burned up, and I stammered, “I’m so sorry.” I smiled and scratched the back of my head. *I even noticed her yellow polo. Jesus, I’m stupid.* ​ “I take that as a compliment,” she backed up, giving room to open the door and get out. ​ “B-Being mistaken for a homeless person is a compliment?” I stuttered like a fool. This was not one of the scenarios I expected on my ride here. ​ “Of course,” she balanced herself a concrete planter. I leaned against my car, struggling to find where my hands should go. *In my pocket? Crossed?* “Homeless people are the freest of all.” ​ “But they don’t really have anywhere to settle down," I said. ​ “Look around,” she spun her head exaggeratingly, like a pirate ship navigator. “They can settle down anywhere. As long as they don’t get kicked out, of course.” ​ She hopped down and stared me in the eyes. ​ “U-Uh, yeah?” My eyes darted back and forth, averting eye contact. ​ “Hmm, are you Rafael or Remi?” ​ “I’m—” ​ “Wait, let me guess. Hmm,” she stroked her chin, “Rafael?” ​ “That’s me.” ​ “Let’s go!” She celebrated as if she had just won the world cup. “I knew it. You don’t look like a Remi.” ​ “H-How so?” ​ “I don’t know, the curly hair suits someone named Rafa.” ​ As soon as she said Rafa, I wasn’t there anymore. In my mind, I was running through an open flower field, with Vaneet being backlit by the rising sun. “Rafa,” she called out, sounding close yet so far. “Rafa,” her voice was as soothing as a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. “Rafa!” Her voice sounded like a million screeching insects… ​ “...Rafa!” said the woman in front of me. She glanced at her watch. “Shall we get going? It’s 11:50.” ​ “Don’t call me Rafa.” I turned to walk to the warehouse. ​ She jogged to catch up, bracelets jingling, and walked next to me. “Why?” ​ “J-Just don’t.” I looked down at our shadows. ​ We approached the huge metal doors. Two cameras glared down at us, red lights blinking. The woman next to me waved at the camera and yelled out, “Hi! We’re the *new* people. I’m Karen. He’s Rafa!” ​ The metal doors clicked and unlocked. Karen skipped forward, pushing it open with all her might. She held her back against it and waved me ahead. “Thanks,” I said. ​ The doors shut behind us. ​ The warehouse was lit up like a fire. Numerous fluorescent lights hung overhead, buzzing like millions of invisible flies. Looking around, there didn’t seem to be any shadows. Tall and shadowless shelves lined the entire interior, resembling a maze. Two shadowless people walked around this maze, pulling electric jacks with loaded pallets. The beeping of forklifts reverberated through the warehouse, overpowering the lo-fi music playing in the intercoms. ​ No one paid us attention. Except for a big bald guy marching towards us with a clipboard under his armpit. He wore our yellow company polo, same as everyone, but his was stretched to its last string because of his muscles. ​ “Go ahead and clock in. Then follow me,” he said as kindly as his deep voice allowed him. ​ ​ He pointed at the wall where we had just entered from. There was a wall mounted tablet awaiting us. Karen skipped towards it and punched in her employee number from the card they gave us new people. I punched mine in out of memory. ​ We followed our new boss, navigating through the maze-like aisles. “You two will work in the far corner, helping hand stack pallets since you haven’t taken the test for electric jack usage. Fucking osha,” he grunted. ​ We arrived at the far right corner where a tall lanky man with bowl-cut hair was already stacking boxes. ​ “Here you are,” he pointed at the two empty pallets next to the bowl-cut guy’s pallet. “If you have any questions, feel free to call me on that intercom there.” He pointed at the wall behind the pallets and tower of boxes where a land phone was mounted. “If you need to use the restroom, it’s located on the far left. If you do use the restroom. Never, and I mean never, turn off the lights. Got it?” ​ “Yes sir,” said Karen, standing with her shoulders pinned back like a cadet. ​ I nodded. ​ “Very well,” he said. “Off you go.” ​ We walked to our pallets, Karen took the middle one. I took the one to the right, furthest from the bowl-cut dude. ​ Stocking boxes left and right got tiring for my back just a few minutes in. I looked at Karen and the bowl cut dude, who I assumed was Remi. They were quick to stack. Karen stacked her pallet neatly, putting the bigger ones to the bottom for support and the smaller ones to the top. Remi valued speed over neatness. He was on his second pallet. ​ I copied Karen, neat and quick. ​ When Karen finished her first pallet and it was taken away by someone with an electric jack, she decided to make small talk. “Remi, right?” ​ “Right,” he replied, not once looking up from his pallet. ​ “Nice to meet ya. I’m Karen and he’s Rafa,” she pointed at me. ​ “Nice to meet you, *co-workers*,” said Remi. ​ Karen took the hint and looked at me with eyes that said, *“He’s a jerk.”* I smiled, reassuring her I knew what she meant. ​ Time passed slower than a sloth walking under water. When my second pallet was stacked, I got the sudden urge to pee. The absurd amount of coffee wanted out of my bladder. “I’ll be back,” I told Karen. “If the boss stops by, let him know I'm in the bathroom, please.” ​ “Got it–” ​ “You won’t turn off the lights,” Remi cut off Karen. “You *won’t*.” ​ “Of course I won’t,” I looked at him, confused. ​ “I knew you were a wuss,” he shrugged. ​ I played along with his little game. “Curiosity killed the cat.” ​ “Good thing I ain’t no cat,” he said, finally looking up from his pallet. He had a deep scar across his right eye. Straightening up his body, he was even taller than I imagined. At least six feet three inches. He towered over my five feet nine inches self—he sure as hell towered over Karen. ​ “Whatever you are, curiosity will kill that as well.” ​ His eyebrows furrowed. Gotcha, I thought. His expression turned straight, and he went back to work on his pallet. I felt a presence behind me, knowing full well it was the boss based on Karen’s smirk. ​ I turned around. The boss glared down at me. His resting face gave the impression of being mad all the time. *A resting bitch face, literally.* I thought, trying to suppress laughter. ​ “Off somewhere, I suppose?” ​ “Bathroom, sir.” ​ “Restroom,” he corrected. ​ “Yes, that.” ​ “Very well,” he said, stepping aside to let me pass. I walked away, feeling his stare dig into the back of my neck. Chills shot up all over my body. ​ I entered the bright and narrow hallway in the far left corner of the building. There was only one unisex bathroom—odd for a building of this size. I twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open, and stepping in. ​ It was the cleanest bathroom I've ever seen. The chess board looking floor reflected light as if it had been freshly waxed. The two mirrors reflected a 4k-like image of myself—maybe even an 8k. It was as if there was another me staring back instead of a reflection. ​ I quickly did my business and washed my hands. The soap dispensers actually worked. It amazed me. ​ As I was on my way out, I reached for the light switch out of instinct. I stopped myself, remembering this wasn’t my apartment and I didn’t have to worry about the electricity bill. A thought occurred to me at that moment. ​ *Odd,* I thought, *If they didn’t want anyone turning off the lights, why not remove the light-switch completely?* ​ It sounded like common sense to me. Maybe they never thought of it. Or maybe they have, but decided against it for some odd reason. I shrugged and continued to the door. ​ The door swung open. It banged against the wall. The thud reverberated in the small bathroom. The floor rumbled with angry footsteps. I looked up. ​ It was Remi. ​ He marched right up to me, grabbing my shirt and twisting it. ​ “You think you’re funny, huh? Smartass.” ​ The door shut behind him. ​ The stitching of my polo shirt teared slowly. The ripping sound was the only thing I could hear. It infuriated me. My blood boiled. ​ I grabbed his wrist, digging my fingernails into it. He let go of his grip and let out a grunt. With my other hand, I grabbed his palm and bent it back. He squirmed around. ​ “Don’t fucking move,” I said. “I’ll break it.” ​ With his free hand, he swung. It was a haymaker. A sloppy punch. I had plenty of time to duck. ​ I ducked, letting go of his wrist for a second and countering with a left hook to his liver. He grunted and his body struggled to stay upright. ​ I grabbed his wrist again, bending it back even further. ​ “Don’t test me. I’ll *fucking* break it.” ​ He let out a yelp, looking around for an escape. ​ There wasn’t any. ​ I could break his wrist at any— ​ He reached for the lights. ​ He managed to flick the switch. ​ But, the lights stayed on. ​ The buzzing of the fluorescent light grew loud. As loud as a boiling teapot. Louder than that. ​ I let go of his wrist and clasped my hands over my ears. It was a poor attempt at blocking out that deafening screech. ​ The lights flickered, slowly. The rhythm they had resembled laughter. How in the world were lights laughing at us, mocking us. ​ The screech grew even louder. I felt paralyzed. I wanted to dash for the light-switch. I couldn’t. Somehow I knew if I let go of covering my ears, I would be deaf for the rest of my life. I groaned and yelped. Either me or Remi called out for help. Maybe it was both of us. I couldn’t even hear my own voice over the sound. ​ My eyes darted left and right. Then I froze my gaze on the mirror. ​ It was warping, rippling like a portal from the video games. It called out to me. It called out to us. She called out to me… ​ Vaneet. ​ I felt her presence in the rippling mirror. Her voice overpowered the screeching, offering me an end to all my pain—present and past. ​ *Yes,* I thought, *I want it.* ​ I trudged to the mirror, hands still clasped over my ears. It felt as if I was knee deep in quicksand. My bones were stiff. Only way I could continue forward was if I waddled. So I did. ​ I stood in front of the mirror. ​ My reflection and I were the only ones in the world. It, or I, smiled. My reflection rippled and morphed into something else, someone else. ​ Vaneet. ​ Her sky blue eyes stared at me, full of life. Her thin eyebrows scrunched together as she smiled. The face she always made. She could never truly be mad at me. She had to smile on the rare occasions she was mad. She wore heavy eyeliner. When she used to cry, the tears left black streaks. I remember that was the cutest thing ever. Vaneet, she was so sensitive. I didn’t deserve her—a stubborn man like me. ​ Out of instinct, I reached out to touch her cheek. ​ I stopped. ​ I heard faint voices calling out to me. But I wasn’t there anymore. I was in an open flower field and Vaneet was close now. Closer than ever. ​ All logic escaped my grasp at that moment. What was logic worth compared to Vaneet? She was priceless. ​ My fingers were within an inch from her cheek. She blushed, puckering her lips to the side as she did when I would caress her. ​ I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder, two heavy hands. They clamped down like a vice grip and yanked me back. I fell down, head banging against the floor. My vision was hazy. I laid against the cold tile floor, staring at the flat ceiling. *Where was I? Not my apartment. Not my popcorn ceiling.* ​ Blurred faces hovered over me. Faint voices called out my name. A bald-headed man waved frantically. Bracelet covered arms hovered over my eyes. I tracked them back and forth. ​ “Vaneet?” I murmured. ​ “Karen,” a faint voice said. “Karen, your new co-worker.” The blurred face smiled. ​ My body got lifted up and placed on a soft, thin bed. My eyes were fixated on the blurred figure who said her name was Karen. I smiled. ​ My vision went dark. ​ \*\*\* ​ When I awoke, I found myself staring up at some blinding lights. Four steel walls surrounded me. This isn’t a hospital, I thought. Voices spoke in hushed whispers. I heard my name a few times. ​ “He’s awake,” said Karen. “He survived the test, Can we keep him?” ​ *Keep me? What?* ​ “Hmm,” said a deep voice, “Very well. I suppose he did prove himself worthy.” ​ “Yes!” Karen celebrated. She came into view, looking down at me with caring eyes. “Shit is gonna get real crazy now.” She smirked. ​ “W-What?” I murmured. ​ “Can I tell him, Dean? Please?” Karen looked back at the boss for approval. He nodded. “We’re fighting a war against the mirror dimension, and you are a part of it now!” She grinned. ​ “Ah, shit,” I said. “I need some sleep.” ​ Dean and Karen laughed, a contagious laugh. I couldn’t help but laugh, myself. ​ Dean’s smile vanished. “No but seriously. We need your help.” ​ My eyes rolled back and my vision went dark again. ​ \*\*\* ​ That’s my story, Reddit. How I came to fight for our reality against the mirror dimension. Karen was right. Shit got crazy real fast. We’re on a break from fighting now, so I figured I might as well share my story—our story. ​ I never truly forgot about Vaneet. That’s a fight I don’t think I’ll ever beat. Fighting mirror monsters helps me postpone those emotions. But they're bottled up, ready to burst at any moment. Karen, she helps out a lot. I’m truly grateful for her. Even for our boss, Dean. ​ I guess you’re wondering what happened to Remi. Well, he got swallowed up by the mirror dimension. Whatever he saw in that mirror managed to lure him in. I don’t blame him. Vaneet almost succeeded in luring me. I dread the day I have to face her again. But with Dean, Karen, and the other *co-workers* at my side, I have a better chance of beating it. ​ Until next time, Reddit. Make sure to stay away from mirrors in the dark. We may not be there to help.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l4lil/i_work_graveyard_shifts_at_a_warehouse_there_is/

nosleep

[deleted]

The Curious Murders of Jane Doe

Being a cop, you’ll probably have a case that makes you. The kidnapping solved by some beat cop, the robbery outsmarted by an overlooked sergeant. Then there’s the case that breaks you on some fundamental level. A missing child never found, a homicide scene that sends a veteran’s lunch onto his shiny boots, or god forbid something you truly can’t explain. The case that made me was a few years after graduating from the academy. An armored transport truck was hijacked half a mile from my beat in the center of philadelphia. In responding, I had joined the front of the chase and side swept the back wheel of the truck moving through a large empty lot. The truck flipped on its side, taking a few cars with it. In the public eye I was a hero that saved the day, earning a promotion. However, behind the scenes I was on the brink of losing my job, due to the property damage incurred from my pit maneuver. In hindsight, it’s a miracle no one but the suspects were hurt, but I digress. This led to a promotion to detective, with the caveat that I’d be exiled to some backwater southern town deep in the Tennessee woods. At the time I protested, but I soon realized that fighting it was futile. Resigned to my fate, I packed my things in preparation for my new life as detective of Porterville, Tennessee. My first drive down to the place I would call home was.. Foreboding. That night the pine and oak trees swayed, fighting bitterly against the wind. I was fifteen minutes away from Porterville driving down an open road, with only the moon and my high beams guiding my vehicle. The artificial light was melded with the unmistakable glow of a fire let amuck as it illuminated my brown skinned arms. The sight made my heart sink, as two crosses set alight came into view. Under it were hooded figures that held aloft torches. Panicking, I shut my high beams off and tried to drive as stealthily as I could. The glow of the fire now fully enveloped me in my truck, keeping me petrified as I offered a silent prayer. The glow eventually faded in my rear view mirror, and I sighed in relief, continuing my journey to Porterville.The first week I arrived in town was eventful, learning the lay of the land, how poor of a shape our armory was, meeting the local Cherokee natives, and striking a deal with them. A deal that leads to where I am now, in mayor Jackson's office with a prick named hermann sitting behind Jackson like a kid on christmas. I only caught the end of Jackson's sentence as I exited from my thoughts. “-Not only did you guarantee them Native officers and limited jurisdiction, it was all for a few pea shooters?! Do you have anything to say for yourself?” I cleared my throat, relaxing my posture as much as I could as I began “the deal benefits us much more than you realize. Our armory was piss poor, our officers barely had enough 1911’s and magnums to arm ourselves. Now we have vests, shotguns, an m700 sniper, two colt M4’s, a glock for every man and woman on the force, and ammo and mags to last us till doomsday. But that isn’t the best part, that would be the fact that having tribal cops would cut the area we’d have to patrol by half, and we’d only have to send one or two units to supervise. And besides, having native cops would help the tension around here.” When I finished, I caught Hermann half snickering before Jackson had shut him up “I don’t wanna hear a word outta you, the only reason you’re here is because that fat bastard sheriff Coryn is either too busy campaigning for reelection or eating a pie.” The mayor then took a moment to think, then spoke "One, I don’t wanna know where they got these guns. Two, you’re responsible for any shit that goes down on their land. Their case is yours, got it?” I smiled as I looked at the abject horror and disgust plastered on Hermann’s face. But my minor victory was interrupted by the mayor’s phone buzzing. He picked it up and I began to feel queasy as his face turned beet red with anger. He slammed the phone and began to yell at me. “Congrats Jason, your new cops just found a fucking body. So get your ass down there and paddle them outta shit’s creek!” Nodding quickly, I turned and ran like hell to my car. Barreling down the road, it took twenty minutes to reach the site of the body. Arriving there, I was beat there by my coworker officer ruiz de la cruz, or just officer cruz to most. Next to her were the two cherokee officers who had first happened upon the body. “Ruiz, what do we have?” I half spat out, running towards the group. She shook her head ever so slightly then started. “Nice of you to join. Tdlr, we have a jane doe. Mid twenties maybe, no ID or wallet in her handbag.. But the body is telling me five different things at once.” she gestures to the women now dead, pointing out various things while continuing. “For one, it seems almost all identifying markers have been tampered with. The teeth have been removed, the fingerprints burned off, and there are patches of skin surgically removed. The residual ink tells me that those were tattoos that were removed, Jason, someone does not want us to know who that woman was. Then there’s her leg..” My eyes moved and I caught myself dry heaving at what I saw. Ruiz begun to tear up slightly, “yeah, some sick fuck took a bite outta her leg, which tells me we’re dealing with at least three killers.” “Three? This only shows two maybe, and that's partly conjecture.” “Because all of that was post mortem, at least I'm eighty percent sure. This was ultimately a ritual killing. Look.” Her fingers fell on where the victim's chest was. There were surgical marks, like from a coroner, implying that someone else took her organs. Ruiz then gestured towards a handbag, handing it to me. With now gloved hands, I looked through her bag, only finding two items of interest. “I've got something, looks like our vic was an escort. No name still, but there's a receipt from a bar in town. Finnley’s pub, that might be our best chance to get some info.” She nodded and our group dispersed, Ruiz and I inbound for Finnley’s. The drive remained uneventful as we pulled into the quaint bar. It was late by this hour so my hope was slightly faded, nevertheless I marched in tow with Ruiz. the barkeep welcomed us in and asked for an order. “Shine for both of us” Ruiz chimed I followed up, “and some information, have you seen this woman?” I held aloft a photo I had taken of the women, waiting for a response. The man returned with our drinks and nodded. “Yeah, she came in a couple of nights ago with a couple of guys. Bad vibes from the guys.” “Did you get any of their names?” Ruiz responded “Only one of the guys, a big burly lookin guy. Solomon Prescott. He runs a tiny slaughterhouse on his ranch. It's maybe sixteen miles from here northbound. Can't miss it.” We both looked at each other, downed our drinks, and sped off to our cars.Our bartender did not lie when he said we couldn’t miss the property. A small plot of land, lined with gnarled, dead oak trees. And in the center of it all was a house and barn. I was filled with an ominous feeling as my partner and I raced up the driveway, weapons held tight. There was a light at the barn, and looking at Ruiz, we both crept up to the old building. “This is the police!” I shouted, as my announcement was met with the blast of a shotgun, kicking open the barn doors. What followed was an exchange of gunfire, leaving three dead and one man with his arms raised. When we entered the barn, a miasma set upon us. It attacked our lungs and filled our nose with the scent of the dead. Ruiz had damn near doubled over to vomit, and it took every power in my body not to pass out. As I passed the bodies of our assailants, kicking their weapons away from their corpses, I took a notice to strange runes and symbols carved and tattooed on their bodies. “Ugh… Solomen Prescott I presume?” Ruiz spat out roughly “Oh yeah, that’s me. And I’m sorry about the smell, if I had known I’d have company I would’ve cleaned up better. Listen, if you guys don’t shoot me I’ll cooperate fully.” Solomen said in a gravelly, matter-of-fact tone. We both looked at each other in slight bewilderment, then grabbed the man, shoving him into our car before speeding back off to our station. We soon found ourselves in a tiny interrogation room with the man known as Solomen Prescott. “Officers,” He started, “here’s just about most of the story. I have a.. Taste for human meat. Ethically sourced of course. I don’t know why I’m the way I am but nevertheless, about a month ago I was contacted by an individual who identified herself as “the mother”. She told me that I could have the scraps of her human sacrifices. They ditch the bodies and I get a meal a day. So long as I don't interfere with the will of “the Father”. Any-” Ruiz butted in, “hold on, who is this father?” “He’s their god of sorts. At least they think it's their god. But god or no god, that thing is a powerful, old, primordial being.” “And the people with the tattoos, are those their “children”?” I chimed in “Right on the money officer, the family of Ead they call themselves. In fact, they’re gonna have another sacrifice tonight. It’ll be at the abandoned hendricks farm” he paused as though he was finished, then interjected one more time. “If you go, bring molotovs, a flamethrower, hell any fire will work.” We both nodded and thanked him for his cooperation, leaving him in the isolated box. I took out my cell phone and called Jackson. “Jackson, no time. All officers to hendricks farm. Armed to the teeth and I need a flamethrower, no questions.” I hung up before he could respond and hopped into the seat of my truck, barrelling down the road to the hendricks farm. Waiting for me in a nearby hedgerow, was the Porterville police. Armed to the teeth, I gave a quick brief before entering the fields. “Listen people, there are two POI’s wanted alive. “The mother” and “the father” both have unknown appearances but they should stand out. As for the rest, these are the Jamestown type so they won’t go alive. Don’t let the job get you killed, put these animals in the dirt if they aren’t our POI-” “Are you insane?! Do you know what this means for the dept-” Hermann cut in but was stopped after I stared at him coldly. “Anyways, we’ll move through the fields. Stay frosty, and stay alive.” The force of the Porterville police crept through fields, silent and still as death. We neared the end of the fields and gazed with horror. A glow surrounded the ceremony that reminded me of the glow that had shone on me my first day here. A chill went down my spine as I motioned for us to reveal our hand. In an instant, we had all unloaded our weapons into the groupings of armed cultists. A wall of smoke formed on the edge of the field, and walking past it lay most of our dead cultists. There was one woman however untouched, a still beating heart at her feet. “YOU FOOLS, HOW DARE YOU DESECRATE THE STOMPING GROUNDS OF THE FATHER!” The woman screamed shrilly. Her jett black hair seemed to stand up on command. Silence followed, but within that silence, the forest remained alive and announced the entrance of.. Something. Torches lined where the ceremony was held, but there was a gap, and through that gap stepped the father. A dreaded silence fell upon us all, some cried, some prayed, and I just stared at the thing. Fear seeping into every fiber of my being. It walked on four legs, it had the body of a mighty elk but taller. Its fur was brown stained with spots of crimson, and a ribcage exposed to the world. Its head was… confusing and indecipherable. There were too many animals on its face. It looked like a toddler had drawn it a little different each time. And atop of its head were two massive antlers, a crown of thorns for a god, real or fake. The woman turned to the massive figure and presented herself to it, her eyes filled with tears. The thing suddenly gored the woman with its antlers, dropping her to the floor like a used rag. Then that thing turned to us and spoke. “You have interrupted something you cannot possibly fathom. Your insolence will be rewarded with a fate far worse than her’s.” the creature bellowed, with a hollow yet full voice that seemed to fill the space around it with its presence. Panicked, I ran to find the party favor Jackson had sent us with. I walked to the thing in trepidation, tears flowing down my cheek. With false bravado, I yelled “then smite me down as a god would, O ye of little faith.” saying this, I hosed the abomination with fire. The scent of char and flesh filled the air as the thing let out a screech that I still can never forget. It backed off through the path it came from as a few brave officers shot rounds into it. Then the voice came back to forewarn us with a promise. “There will come a day when I return from this exile. Your machines offer you a false certainty, for they will fail you eventually. The flesh is stronger than you think, and it will surpass the machine in due time. When I come back to inherit what is mine, hope to your false gods you are dead before my conquest.” The thing walked off to never be seen, but those words still haunt me. Ever since then, it has been the duty of each officer to patrol the woods to make sure that thing stays in its new domain. But every time I look out to the woods at night, I know that thing stares back at me. Eyes full of hate and contempt. So I write this in case what I fear comes to pass, a record at least, of the murder of Jane Doe and the elk-like being of Porterville. But as I write, I can hear something in the woods call for us all, a headsman growing impatient.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16ll5qh/the_curious_murders_of_jane_doe/

nosleep

Plymouthmoon

I worked as an ice-road trucker in Russia along the “Road of Bones”. This is why I quit [part 3]

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/) ​ While conditions seemed bad right now, with the truck stuck like it was, I gave thanks that at least the engine started without issue. At times, it got so cold in Siberia that the engines would fail to start. The temperature had started to increase, however, and outside the wind had died down. The snow had stopped, and looking at the thermometer I kept on the outside of the truck, I saw that it was “only” -5 degrees Fahrenheit now. I cursed, putting on many layers while I sat in the truck’s driver seat, the little girl sitting between me and Yakov on an empty bucket she had turned upside-down. She didn’t seem affected by the cold at all. She had probably grown up in far worse. “What are you doing?” the girl said with widening eyes, watching me. I looked at her, shaking my head. “Obviously, we have to go get your sister,” I said. “No!” she said. “I’m not going back there! Never! I will never go back to that place!” She started to cry. “The legs… the fence… the ovens… the cages… you have no idea how horrible it is!” “Calm down,” I said. “You have to lead us back towards the hut. You probably won’t have to go in. We just need to get your sister and come back, then we can leave. What’s your name?” “Irina,” she said. “That’s a very pretty name,” Yakov said. “My name is Yakov, and this is Nikolai. We’re the good guys. We can fight off that witch and bring your sister home. If we do nothing, your sister will die. You know that.” Irina nodded, wiping her eyes. Bundled up in her layers of clothing with a fur jacket on the outside, she looked almost like a little eskimo sitting here in my truck. I repressed the crazy urge to laugh at the image, remembering what was happening. “Let’s do this,” I said, getting out of the truck. I grabbed more ammo from the glovebox, and saw Yakov grabbing some bullets from the satchel of random goods he carried around with him in a leather skin. He left the rest of his possessions in the truck, folding the leather carefully back over them and tying it with a cord. It felt eerie, like the dawn before a major battle. I had goosebumps all over my body, and not just from the cold. The idea of going up against an infamous witch, an ogress, a child-eating monster- well, it didn’t raise my confidence. Though this happened years ago, I still remember that terrible feeling- as if everything had been leading up to this point, and now everything stood still, watching. I had heard legends of Baba Yaga growing up, how Satan had taken twelve women who were murderers and criminals, thrown their bodies in a pot together, mixed it up- and out came Baba Yaga. Of course, I scoffed at such myths now that I was older. But seeing her there had made me question many things. Irina went out first, not minding the cold at all, her breath coming out in steamy plumes. Yakov and I had flashlights from the truck, jumping down behind her. Their light came out dimly, but it gave enough lumination on the white snow to see. The clouds had started to part, and the Moon had come out in the sky, looking down on us like a single blind eye- like the cataract-ridden eye of Baba Yaga I had seen earlier. As we started walking across the M56 and into the woods, that shrill, gurgling shriek came ringing out again. I knew Baba Yaga was close, likely even watching us. She might attack at any moment. We walked further down the trail, a winding deer trail only a couple feet wide, with branches that would smack me in the face and rocks to trip over every few steps. Just as I turned to Yakov to say that we may have lost her, she attacked. I saw a blur, then an intense pain in my side as she tackled me, knocking me quickly to the snowy ground. I kept a death-grip on my gun, smacking my head against a tree trunk- and the world went white. I drifted in and out of consciousness for a few moments, or perhaps it was longer. Time got strange. As if from a great distance, I heard gunshots and more screaming- then my vision started to return, and I focused. I saw Yakov crouched on the ground, holding his left hand tightly. I saw a fountain of blood running over his gloves, staining the snow in strange droplets and splotches, like a Rorschach inkblot made by a serial killer. I tried to sit up, but a lightning bolt of pain seared my brain. I groaned, raising my hand to my head. I felt something sticky on my scalp, and pulling my hand back, I saw it covered in blood. It felt warm and wet, running down from the right side of my scalp and showing no signs of slowing. I felt nauseated and weak for a second, seeing all that blood, how it stained my clothes and the snow below me. I took a few deep breaths, in and out, slowly concentrating and steadying myself. My hand still trembled, and my legs felt like jelly as I tried to stand, but I leaned against the tree and let the waves of weakness and nausea pass by. Yakov wasn’t doing much better. He was hyperventilating, staring in shock at his spurting hand. His left thumb looked like it was mostly or entirely gone. “We’ve… got to put pressure…” I said slowly, gulping air. “...on the wound. And ice and snow.” I began to tear a strip from one of my shirts, then walked slowly over to Yakov on unsteady legs. I looked into his eyes. They looked dark and tortured, and he quickly looked away, tears forming in his eyes from the shock and pain. Irina sat next to him on a log, and she watched in horror, looking away whenever she noticed the blood. “Let’s do this,” I said. “Ready?” He nodded weakly. I pulled the strip of cloth around the hole where his thumb used to, running it around his hand in circles, tightening it. He screamed. I gave him a piece of wood to bite down on, and pulled it even tighter. I saw teeth marks forming deep in the wood, a solid branch one inch in diameter I had snapped in half. His breath came in and out so fast, I thought for sure he would pass out. But he kept with me. Soon I had pressure on the wound, and the bleeding had slowed considerably. I repeated the process with my head, wrapping more strips of cloth around the bloody scalp wound and pulling. I gritted my teeth, but the pain wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought, except for the crushing migraine. More than anything, I just felt weak, and waves of nausea kept assailing me. Splotches would rise in my vision, black dots that seemed to precede passing out, but I would sit down quickly and, after a few minutes, I had regained most of my strength. “Let’s keep going,” I said weakly. Irina stood next to Yakov, looking petrified. “I don’t want to go,” Irina said stubbornly. “Please don’t make me go.” “Irina,” I sighed. “Your sister might die if we turn around. We have no choice.” “I’m too scared,” she said. “You have no idea how bad it is there. You can’t imagine.” But after a few minutes of convincing, she continued to lead us- a ragtag group of injured men and a child, limping through the thick snow in the freezing cold. We walked for an hour in silence, the little girl following her tracks, looking for landmarks she had passed when she had escaped the first time. She had grown up in the woods, most likely, and her family must have taught her much. I was worried about freezing to death, but then I started to notice my body growing warmer. I thought, perhaps, it was simply the first sign of hypothermia. And yet, as we walked, I noticed changes in the forest. It actually had gotten warmer; it wasn’t just in my mind. Soon the snow had all gone. I looked around and noticed the trees were all dead, their naked arms extending up to the sky. I had to take off a jacket, then a sweater too. I saw the others doing the same, sweating as it warmed up. A fog began to roll in, covering the whole area. “This is the space between the world of the living and the dead,” Irina said in her sweet child’s voice. It made the statement all the more horrible. “The hut is near here. This is the border of her home.” Through the mist, I swore I could see faces appearing and disappearing, the horror-stricken visages of children and eternally grinning skulls. Soon, we came to a clearing. All the trees stopped in a large circle, a few hundred feet in diameter. In horror, I looked at what lay beyond. A fence surrounded the property, made of children’s bones. It extended high up, at least twenty feet, countless arm and leg bones stacked one on another, bound together with twine and braced with more bones attached vertically against the others. I saw no gaps bigger than an inch, and no way to climb it. Looking at the top, I saw pieces of sharpened bones sticking up, like some razor wire from Hell. Irina shook at my side, and she grasped my hand suddenly, her small body exuding a strength that seemed beyond her physical abilities. I smiled down at her, smoothing her long, black hair with my right hand. I felt almost entirely recovered from my earlier concussion, though my head still pounded in time with the beat of my heart. I wished I had brought some aspirin. “How do we get in?” Irina asked, taking off another sweater and hanging it over her shoulder. I had absolutely no idea. “Let’s look around,” I said. We began to circle the fence, walking along the circumference of the clearing. I could see a hut beyond through the small gaps. After a minute, we came to the gate. It stood twenty-feet-tall, like the rest of the fence, and would be almost impossible to scale. Unlike the rest of the fence, the gate had been fashioned entirely from skulls. I saw all the small skulls stacked one on top of another. As I imagined how many children had died to build just this macabre gate, a feeling of sickness and dread washed over me. Sticking out of the front of it, in the exact center, I saw a larger skull. It looked like that of a man. In its open mouth, I saw a silver keyhole. In anger, I tried shaking the gate- and it came swinging open, totally silent. “It’s open,” Yakov said, amazed. I looked at him. “This feels like a trap,” I said. He nodded. Irina hid behind Yakov now, not wanting to look at the eternally grinning skulls stacked in front of her, bound together with some sort of invisible glue. I looked through the gate at the hut beyond. My breath caught in my throat. It stood on two massive legs. The feet looked like those of a chicken, but the legs loomed ten feet above the ground, where they somehow attached to the hut, holding it up suspended in the air. They were skeletal, all the flesh and muscle long ago wasted away. “Are those chicken legs?” Yakov asked, his voice low. I felt eyes on me. I looked back into the forest, but I saw no one. “Who the hell knows?” I asked. “But where do you get a chicken that’s the size of an elephant? Or bigger?” “From Hell?” he asked. I laughed. “You think they have massive chickens in Hell, just going around pecking at the Hell grains?” I said. He smiled. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. Let’s do this.” We began to walk forwards into the clearing. I could see the circular hut more clearly now. An inner light burned, sending out a fiery, red glow through the windows. Unlike the rest of this horrible place, it looked like the hut was actually built of wood and stone. It had a quaint look, like the hut of an ancient serf. The top of it met in a point, with thatch and twigs carefully aligned to form a rounded dome. The windows were lined with stones. Trunks of dead trees formed the main construction material, pressed one against the next, stacked vertically in a perfect circle. They had their branches cut off, their bark stripped, the wood ground down to a smooth, uniform texture. “My sister is in there,” Irina whispered. “Please don’t make me go back. Please. You don’t know what they do in there. What she does in there.” I grabbed her hand. “Irina, we can’t leave you behind,” I said. “I think we’re being watched. I’m sorry, but you have to come with us.” She put her head down, looking like a beaten dog. She trudged alongside us slowly as we examined the property. But we saw no sign of anyone. I sighed deeply. “Alright, let’s go inside,” I said. “Let’s find out what horrors await us in that hut.” As we walked forward, I heard the gate click closed behind us. I turned and looked, but I saw no one. It seemed as if it had closed on its own. I saw, to my horror, that I would need a key to get out as well as in. Another skull, its mouth open and filled with a silver locking mechanism, stuck out on this side as well. The metal in its mouth made it look like it was choking, the eternally gaping mouth like it was screaming. I turned away, focusing on the task at hand, hoping I would survive the next few minutes. ​ Part 4 [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nl7hj/i\_worked\_as\_an\_iceroad\_trucker\_in\_russia\_along/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16nl7hj/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/

nosleep

CIAHerpes

My new job requires me to work from 7pm to 7am. But every midnight, my task is to hide in a special room. Part 1

Quite the strange rule, right? Greetings everyone! You can call me Kol. It is a much shorter version of my real name since it is very long and difficult to pronounce. The story you are reading involves a real company, so to avoid any issues with that institution, I will only refer to it as such. Around the beginning of 2022 to this very day, the concerning problem of loadshedding ravages the country I live in. Almost every day, for a period of one hour, the power goes out twice or thrice at varying times and locations indicated by an app. Most often, these interruptions in electricity supply happen during the night to avoid disturbing businesses' operations during the day, since solutions such as electric generators and green energy are still neither popular nor affordable. Consequently, crimes such as theft rose during the night and skyrocketed the demand for security, thus creating opportunities for employment. Therefore, after a long period of search and hardship, on the 7th of September 2023, I have finally found an employment with a very generous salary, to support myself and my family of four. The job? A seemingly normal position of a security officer, tasked to guard an indoor storage facility, all alone and during the night. My workdays and hours are Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday from 7 pm to 7 am. The only concern? One strange and mysterious rule revolving around a particular time and also a particular place, approximately worded like this in my contract: 'From 12:00 am to 12:59 am, be in the black room. Before 01:00 am, do not interact with anyone and do not leave the black room no matter the circumstances. Allowed to sleep in the black room from 12:00 am to 12:59 am.' Basically, that time frame serves as my pause, but for unknown reasons, I had to spend it in the black room. That depressing place deserves its name since it is a small room with its steel door and entire interior completely painted with the darkest black I have ever seen, so dark that it seemed to absorb and dim any source of light. Equipped with a black chair, a black clock, a metallic bucket painted in black and placed on top of a black cupboard, and even a black couch, the small place is also the control room from which I can monitor the entire facility. For other unknown reasons, I could only get my black uniform on the 13th and I started working the very next day. During the first night, I followed the rules and did not witness anything uncanny until I caught a glimpse of something strange on the monitors, active during the entire midnight. There was a bizarre phenomenon affecting the cameras turn by turn, translating into a severe distortion affecting the corresponding monitors in the control room one after the other. Something I could not identity due to the anomaly, moved around freely in the whole building, before stopping right in front of the black door at 12:58 am and disappearing at 01:00 am. The camera in front of the black room also returned to normal functioning at exactly 01:00 am. Upon reporting the occurrence to my employer, he completely ignored it and just reminded me to follow the rules. What can I complain about? I desperately need this job, but also when I think about police officers, mortuary assistants, miners and graveyard keepers, and the things they may be confronted to, I end up with the conclusion that a job is a job, with its good and bad sides, therefore, I need to remain a brave man. Yesterday on the 15th, the second night, consumed by my fear or my curiosity, I clocked in at 7 pm and planned to get a glimpse of the 'thing' with my naked eye, by looking under the black door anytime it will pass by the black room. To my disappointment, at 11 pm, I realized that the steel door does not have any space whatsoever through which I could see anything. Therefore, I settled for just watching the monitors, unprepared for what was about to unfold. Unlike the previous night, this time the distortion was accompanied by sounds coming from outside the room. Noises of the storage unit doors vibrating at the passage of the unseen and unknown entity. At 12:17 am, the thing passed in front of the black room, and its door shook too, prompting me to stand up in fear. My heart beating as I began to sweat, I tried to contact the authorities both on the radio and on my phone. Both had there screens flickering as they malfunctioned. I had to face the situation all alone. At 12:34 am, the intruder passed again in front of the black room, and that time, the door shook so violently that I believed it was about to come off the frame. Trembling in fear, I stepped backwards until I hit the cupboard behind me, and unfortunately, the metallic bucket fell from it and hit the floor, making the corresponding and appropriate loud sound that gained the attention of the intruder. Did I just interact? By the definition of the word, I did not. That was an involuntary occurrence engineered by my fear, however, the thing stopped moving. I looked at the monitors and saw that the camera in front of the black room was still affected by the entity with its corresponding screen flickering, and the door was still shaking, allowing me to confirm that the entity stood right there on the other side of the entrance. I remained immobile and silent, sweating and breathing rapidly until the vibration of the door and the distortion on the monitors both stopped at the same time. When I looked at the clock, it was 01:00 am. This time, I avoided complaining to my employer and submitted what I would call a 'clean' report. To safely work, I plan on equipping myself with a few useful things before going back there. Guys, you know my schedule, I work during two consecutive days before a pause. On each day off, I plan on updating you guys on the events of the two previous nights. But for the rest of this beautiful Saturday, and tomorrow Sunday, let me enjoy the company of my wife and kids, the reason why I have to do this job. On Monday the 18th and Tuesday the 19th, I will be clocking in at 7 pm. According to the app, in the area where my workplace is situated, there will be loadshedding on Wednesday the 20th from 12:00 am to 01:00 am. I will spend that hour in the black room. Wish me luck. [Part 2](https://reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/5bGLd0zh7s)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16kmq86/my_new_job_requires_me_to_work_from_7pm_to_7am/

nosleep

AngelmZeal1

Peekaboo 2

(LINK TO PART 1 IN COMMENTS) ​ *"Be careful what you wish for…"* That…thing…had entered my home and forced those words shivering into my brain on a wave of putrid breath. It tittered maniacally, and my skin practically crawled off my body as I felt its moist, hot tongue caress my cheek. I whimpered, and prayed to a God I never believed in as I prepared myself for the worst. I waited for its teeth to sink into my neck, for its jagged, ragged, fingernails to rake the eyes from my skull. I waited. And waited…and waited… I sat waiting until the nascent vestiges of dawn broke across my tightly-closed eyelids. They fluttered open, and my breath caught as I prepared to once again come face to face with the entity I had named Peekaboo. And…I was alone; blessedly alone. Even so, I sat there till almost midday, expecting it to spring out from behind the curtain in homage to its namesake with a banshee shriek as it rushed me in a final, horrible prank. But it didn't. Nothing happened. I sat, and pushed the limits of how long a person could hold their water before wetting themselves. I eventually decided to brave the bathroom, and…nothing happened. The release of relieving myself was nothing compared to the relief I felt from realising I might finally be rid of my demonic voyeur. I pondered on how I had just….given in; I was at my wit's end, and desperate, and just wanted to cease the endless invasion of my privacy. I thought the only way to end this nightmare was to just give in and give it what it wanted. I began to assume it only manifested itself to impart a lesson I should never forget, like a twisted version of the Ghosts of Christmas' Past. But, you know what they say about making assumptions, right? Weak-kneed and stumbling, I eventually made my way to the kitchen to begin embracing what was once my safe, predictable morning routine: semi-sweet coffee and a slice of rye. I almost smiled as I leaned against the counter and followed the motions of familiarity. Lost in thought, eyes unseeing, I reached into the cupboard to grab the canister of earthy brown ground goodness. Instead, my hand came down on something wet, and hot, and I recoiled with a shriek, remembering the feeling of Peekaboo's tongue sliding across my jawline. I threw the cupboard doors wide and saw… my coffee. Hawaiian medium roast, sitting as I expected. I'm fucking losing it; the irony wasn't lost on me that that's what I had thought when Peekaboo first began appearing. I desperately clung to the possibility that I was going mad, as that was more preferable to the alternative. I mechanically prepared my morning repast, all pleasure lost. \*\*\* I didn't feel as if I could handle returning to work; I told them that I wasn't in any fit state to return, but I was seeking assistance to ensure I get back on my feet. My boss understood. I have the best boss. I spent the rest of the day trying to pull the pieces of my routine together; my morning go-to was spoiled by a fear-fueled delusion. I was hell-bent on getting my life back. I tidied up the collective refuse I let stagnate during my moments of turmoil. I made myself dinner, a lovely roast chicken with garlic and lemon. I showered, and felt every drop cascade down my skin while the tension left my body; I had my life back. I had accepted the consequences of my entitled antics, and FINALLY felt close to my old self. I held my face up to the stream, eyes closed. I relished the tranquillity and reached to turn the tap and DUG THROUGH A MASS OF TANGLED GREASY HAIR! I started back and lost my footing! I snatched at the towel bar and ripped half of it off the wall, BARELY saving myself from, at the LEAST, a broken coccyx. I didn't see anything. Nothing made its nefarious appearance. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence… I was shaken. I insisted on the possibility of some type of PTSD manifestation. I still tried to cling to the idea of freedom and stability. I was free, dammit! I was rid of that sadistic stalker! I dried; I dressed; I brushed my teeth; for the first time in an eternity, I collapsed in my bed without fear. I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted. I felt as if I could hibernate till winter, shower again, then hibernate till spring. I sighed with pleasure as I settled in. The incident in the shower had unsettled me, true, but at that moment I just didn't care. For the first time in what I felt was forever, I didn't have some perverted demon-creature staring at me as I tried to sleep. I snuggled in, sighing. I was asleep before I finished exhaling. \*\*\* I started awake, checking the alarm clock. 3:03AM. I felt uncomfortable. I had awoken with such urgency. Why did I do that? I felt that something was wrong. I tried to shrug it off by pattering to the washroom to answer the call of nature. I sat half-asleep in the pale green LED glow of my wall-light. It is NOT a night light. I could barely keep my eyes open. Finishing up, I zombily returned to bed. Settling in, I tossed and turned. I flipped onto my opposite side, smacking my lips. I felt a rustling so soft it barely registered, but it was enough to open my eyes. And there it was So close to my face our noses were almost touching, Peekaboo's wild, bloodshot eyes were staring into mine with such nihilistic glee. It was breathing heavily, its breath foul and damp; long, greasy, black hair splayed around its head and face; its tongue fanatically licking its lips in a wet, sloppy, fanaticism, yellow mucus covering and dripping and pooling on my pillow. It giggled, so softly, "tee!...hee!...hee!..." It reached up, caressed my face, its skin rough and dry like a snake's, and leaned in as if for a kiss. I snapped! I shrieked! I smacked the hand as if it were venomous, frantically scrambling and kicking and scrabbling away but it couldn't! I was cocooned in my blankets, they held fast like a vice, following the will of this creature's twisted desire. It pressed both hands to my cheeks, leaned in close. "Oh, you are… just…so…beau-uuutiful….." it croaked and crooned into my ear. "We are going to have…so…much…fun!…" My heart was hammering so hard I felt it in my toes. I was hyperventilating. It wanted me. It wanted to invade more than my privacy. Its eyes wide as saucers, unblinking, tiny pupils quivering with anticipation, it moaned in my ear and I shrieked in response and squeezed my eyes so tight it felt they fused shut. "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALO-OOONE!!" I screeched, clenching my whole body. And it was gone. Like a puff of smoke. I would have believed it a night terror if not for the pool of yellow mucus on my pillow, and the tiny, intentionally slow, titter I heard come from the vent above my bed. \*\*\* I'm guessing Peekaboo followed the same rules as a vampire. It never, ever got so intimate in invading my space before until I let it into my home. I thought the worst thing it could do to me was watching, observing, voyeuring. But I was so, so wrong. That was just the beginning. I've resigned myself to my fate, even though I have no clue as to why this is happening to me. I realise now that I am just its plaything, its toy, its pet. I'm writing this as a sort of farewell, for even now, as I type this, I can feel its breath in my ear as it presses itself against me, moaning in rapture.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16labm4/peekaboo_2/

nosleep

baileyssinger

A Strange Box Came to My Grandfather's House Yesterday, It Follows Me

It was just there one day. A small wooden ornate box just sitting on the kitchen table. It had strange cravings from the sides to the top, almost like one of those boxes you keep loved one's ashes in. I recently inherited my grandfather's old house and I am the only one who lives there. I'm not sure how it got there. I felt almost compelled to open it but some part of my mind is screaming at me not too. All my doors and windows are locked so nobody could have snuck in and left it here. Who would do something like that anyway? Plus, I was just in this room 5 minutes ago and I didn't see any boxes. I'm not superstitious but I worry it could be cursed or some kind of trap. Crazy I know. I decided to leave it alone for now and return back to my living room. Watch some youtube for awhile and maybe it'll just be gone when I come back. I wasn't that lucky, the second I set foot into my living room I saw it. The same wooden box was on my living room table taunting me to open it. "Are there two boxes?" I thought to myself as I stepped back and peered into the kitchen, it wasn't there. My blood went ice cold, "what the hell?" I murmured. Another thought crossed my mind, I walked back into the kitchen half expecting it to appear back on the kitchen table. It didn't. A teleporting box would be crazy, right? Except, not so crazy as I turned back around I saw it sitting atop of a mini tabletop oven. I ran back into my bedroom and locked the door as I pulled out my phone. I called my friend, Josh. Half expecting not to get any bars but to my surprise he answered in one ring. "Josh?!" I nearly screamed into the phone. "Last I checked" he said "Somethings not right Josh, I feel like I'm losing my mind. There's this box..." The words poured out of move like water from a broken dam. "a box?" "Yeah, a box..." I said as a chill went down my spine pausing before slowly turning around to see the box sitting on my bed. "You al-" The call went all static before counting out. "Josh, Josh?!" I checked my phone, it had no bars. "Damn" I just looked at the box and you know that old saying or maybe it's an expression. "When you stare into the abyss it sometimes stares back into you." That's what this felt like. The more I looked at it the more I started to hear a whisper, a call. The box was beckoning me towards it in a voice I couldn't quite make out but it still sounded familiar. I took a step forward and then my bedroom door broke open and a short butch man stood in the doorway breaking me outta my trance. He grabbed me by my collar and yanked me back into the living room before throwing me against the wall. "Where is it?" He commanded. Coughing and trying to regain my focus "What?" He threw me against the wall again. This man was shorter than me but unnaturally strong. I cursed myself for not going to the gym more. His eyes were doglike and bright yellow pierced my soul and had a jagged fang like tooth from his mouth. He had patches of fur on his hands that went to his fingertips that were like white dirty claws. "Where is it?!" He repeated. my eyes twitching as my gazed moved from him to an elderly woman standing behind him. "Look at me!" He roared. I didn’t look. "Can I kill him?" he seemed to ask the woman behind him. She cackled "If only it was that easy deary. If we kill him, it will just go to the next person and we’ll have to start looking all over again" I winced and looked at her. Her face was just puddles of loose skin and black beady eyes with a long pointy crooked nose. I chuckled "Did you jump out of the Snow White?" A few seconds passed before I realized I said it out loud. I honestly have no idea why I even thought that at a time like that.. I blame the concussion. The look on her face went from a sly unnerving sneer to absolute rage. If I had grandmother "Kill him" She said, cold as ice. "Gladly" The man threw me to the ground a few feet in front of him as I lay next to a small wooden object sitting on the floor. I saw it from the corner of my vision. I put one hand on top of it and a wave of calm washed over me. Almost as time stopped and I heard what it was trying to tell me for the first time. "I accept". The box popped open and I suddenly sprung alive pulling out its contents. I felt what seemed like a knife in my hands “If you two want this so bad, take it" as I stabbed the butch-looking man into his heart. Blood started dripping from his mouth as I ripped out the knife and looked towards the elderly woman who was gone. I looked down towards the dead man lying in a pool of his own blood. He suddenly looked more human than before and not as muscular. Gasping for air as everything started hitting me at once. I pulled out my cellphone to dial 911 but couldn’t make it pass 9 before passing out. I woke up the next day in the hospital. I learned after my friend Josh came over to check up on me and found my front door open with me laying in a pool of blood next to the corpse of the man I stabbed. The police questioned me and I told them the truth or at least a version I think they'd believe. I know they wouldn't believe me, you don't believe me, and I wouldn't believe me either. The cops did ask me something weird, they asked me where the knife was. “Maybe the woman took it”, I said, playing dumb. After they left I started typing out my story to... I don't know. Warn you of monsters maybe? or maybe just to ask what's next. I am not sure what to do. oh, the knife? It never left me. I just look into my hand and it appears there looking back into me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l0wkh/a_strange_box_came_to_my_grandfathers_house/

nosleep

Formal_Barnacle304

I naively stumbled upon some cultish rabbit hole, Part 1 of 3

This story is long and detailed, a bit old. I've jotted and recollected the events the best I can. I suppose, to start, I hadn’t always considered myself a follower. Deep into the night I would wander as a grown woman, the city lights streaking upon my facial features, for all the eyes in the windows to gaze down upon. I know they see - but I had no understanding of one far beyond a man. Now, a man, I’m well used to one. I’ve known man my whole life, and one is in fact the reason why a pocket knife remains in my handbag. I anticipate the movements in the shadows by the side of the jazz club, yet stroll by in an almost ladylike fashion - traditionally and aimlessly. I recall walking down the stairs to the subway station, with the intent of heading to my small apartment - it calls me from the city’s bright lights in favour of a cute, small dimness above my kitchen counter, a comfortingly claustrophobic sensation. I apologise for the verbosity, I’m a poet in my spare time. I’d noticed no one down here, it was drab, dingy and dimly lit. And it is generally not very comforting in this part of town. I had regretted being in this area, knowing full well my idiocy and manic depression would likely swing me right back around here in a few weeks time. I heard some clatters in the distance that reverberated the length of the tunnels, and clasped my fists to pay no attention, yet doing so by that action alone. I felt opposed to sitting down on a bench nearby until the flickering light above it settles itself on. I stood there for a minute to ensure it wasn’t playing a trick on me, and I had a seat with roughly five minutes until the train was to arrive. My breath readied itself, no alcohol in it. Tonight was calm. BZZT- (click) With a sound similar to that, the light above me shut off completely. My body was shrouded in darkness as the other fluorescent tubes remained aglow. Things felt quite uncomfortable. The clattering was heard again, and I could not tell if it was louder that time, or my discomfort made it feel that way. That was a sober thought I didn’t have often. From the distance shuttled the train’s noise, in through the path of the underground station, the doors stopping in front of me. I boarded it, did not look left or right and took a seat directly to the left of the entry. When I looked to the left, I saw two people. One was closer to me, and quickly switched his glance awkwardly, previously situated at or around me. An older gentleman, with a white beard obscuring part of his neck, wearing a small hat. He seemed traditional - but the other one I saw? Leaning at the back of the compartment, far away from myself, they had appeared as if they were a black mist of darkness, as if every piece of clothing on their body was the harshest shade of black you could find, with no true distinguishable feature about themselves, apart from some hat atop his head which I could barely make out from where I was sitting. I thought a fedora, but it did not stick out very far. The bearded fellow walked over and sat across from me. I was not sure what to expect, but my heart rate suggested it likely wasn't good. He opened his mouth and spoke. “It’s lonely down here sometimes, honestly.”He seemed relaxed as he said it, and the tone was as if this subway was his home, and he’s just lounging on an armchair in his living room. “I’ve seen you down here a few times. Last time you didn’t look so good.” My face flushed crimson with embarrassment. I’d have preferred to forget last Monday, when I was groggily slouching onto a seat on what I believed to be an empty compartment. For some reason, I had trusted it more than a taxi that night. Perhaps impaired judgment, or perhaps a wise decision. The night typically decides that, not me. “Y’know, I’m around here a lot, and I just want to be sure. Are you doing okay?” I was a bit taken aback. I had never seen this man before in my life, and here he was trying to check in on my well-being, or so he says, given that he’s noticed me before, perhaps making note of my sobbing last week, like he’d see me again. I didn’t say much, instead, looked at the ground, and as I started to mumble an answer, maybe he began to realise how uncomfortable I felt. He continued to speak. “I know I’m a funny looking guy, but I know some guys around here that are funny deep down, if you catch my drift. Just take care of yourself late at night. It’s not safe around here sometimes.” I made note of it. “Thank you,” I responded. “Pardon me, I’ve never noticed you before.” My guard still up, I engaged in conversation with him. “I’m pretty quiet, I’m not a howler monkey like some teenagers a few blocks over. How the hell their parents let them out that late is beyond me. But I’m just old, so..” A generational thing, he seems to imply. “I get lonely down here, honestly. I just figured I’d make conversation with you since I don’t do so very often with a lot of people. Nice to meet you, I’m Paul.” He extends his hand and I shake it, hiding my confusion. As he looks to the side once we’re done shaking hands, I do so as well - directly to that strange shadow person I had seen before. So Paul here says he’s lonely, why didn’t he speak to that person instead? Perhaps he had, already. If he was truly as lonely as he was, would he choose to break off a conversation quickly and easily? He’d cling onto one for dear life. I mean, I know the feeling of full loneliness. It’s a desolate place where you remain with ears covered and eyes closed. The world is spinning past your discretion. You’d look anywhere for some kind of fulfilment. Did Paul here look at the end of the compartment? Perhaps he does as I do. He keeps his guard up. We conversed about the city for a time, about dumb construction popping up everywhere out of nowhere, ridiculous drivers, recent downpours of constant rain, mostly in a friendly pessimism that bridles his speech more than mine. Still, I certainly did not trust him. I’ve met those nicer who’ve done as wrong as can be. I got off one stop before my own. I bid him farewell. “Thanks for speaking,” he told me. “Not often I meet a decent stranger for a change. ”I gave him a small, wry smile. “Thank you too. Have a good night.” As I departed, I looked over to my right. The shadowy figure was still there, with the exact same posture, completely unmoved.. I stepped out into the badly lit station, made an ugly green by the lighting fixtures. The train rolled by, and just before I left, I watched as the compartment passed. Through the window, I could see, the shadow I had seen there was absent. There was nothing and no one there. I looked and could not see a soul around. I walked up the stairs into the gleam of the night, three blocks from my residence. I walked through the somewhat lit neighbourhood to my somewhat decent apartment on the corner of a somewhat busy intersection, and could see my window from the other sidewalk. I notice the light’s on. Had I left it like that? It wouldn’t have been like me. Cross the road, head inside, up the stairs, down the hallway, rustle for my keys.. what’s that sound? I hear from the interior of my apartment a very distinct ride cymbal, a very distinct brass section, and even the slightest hints of Charles Mingus’ double bass. Unlocking my door and stepping inside, I come to find the record player is on, and spinning on it is a copy of *The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady*. I’m moved. I quickly shut and locked the door, then took the needle off of the LP, then turned off the amplifier. I’m shaking. I say in a slightly hushed voice: “Who the fuck is in here?” I quickly scampered to the knife holder near the stove, grabbing myself a large old butcher; my palm had quivered at its attempts to keep my grip steady. I sidestepped across the living area and approached the bedroom door, slightly ajar. With a quick exhale, I lightly kicked it open completely. I poked my head in and viewed everything of the room. Nothing is noticeably out of place. I opened the drawers to my bedside table - everything was intact. Atop the table was this month’s romance novel and.. a sticky note attached to it. That was new. I looked behind me once more, then took the large note off the book. I needed to ensure everything was secure in order for me to read it. The bathroom and the closets were both devoid of anyone else, let alone any sign of previous entry. The couch was the first thing to welcome me all night. The note read: *HELLO I KNOW THIS IS PROBABLY JARRING BUT PLEASE READ* *I DO NOT MEAN ANY HARM, I AM NOT MALICIOUS* *I DO NOT HAVE A HOME, YOUR DOOR WAS UNLOCKED (to which I cursed in response)* *I HAVE TAKEN EXACTLY ONE BANANA AND ONE TANGERINE* *I THANK YOU FOR YOUR GENEROSITY* *PLEASE DO NOT BE ALERT* I somehow feel compelled to believe the story, yet something felt off. Something was fabricated. This didn’t feel right. No name was attached, albeit understandably. One doesn’t snitch their own break-ins. *PLEASE DO NOT BE ALERT* I was particularly unsettled by that line. It was an odd demand from someone who had just *trespassed my fucking home*, but it could manifest itself in other methods.. be alert. Alert of something else? Why shouldn’t I be? My face, tired. My legs, tired. My heart, aching, my eyes, refused to remain awake. I knew I should probably report this to someone. The neighbour, perhaps. I get up from the couch and fall instantly. My world is asleep and the city fades from me. Morning comes harshly with a cough and a sputter, a strong urge to vomit. Once I finish doing so, I tread back to the living room, my alarm yet to ring off. I turn on the lights, while walking past the record player, I notice the Mingus record is no longer there. The work day was consumed by relentless thought, none of which was innocent wandering. I struggled to remember the night before at that time, yet one image remained ingrained in me. The person standing on the other end of the subway, a black hole human standing at the tip of the world from me. One lone thought treads over.. did they fancy themselves a Mingus? The day came to a close. As does the next. And the next. I soon took the initiative of moving into another apartment, one only farther down the block - apparently online reviews heralded it as better than the one I was currently in. A breeze of monotony led to my eventual lunchtime forgetfulness of the bizarre events during it. But the nights? Far from it. I become thankful of the fact that firearms are an easy deal here, and the landlord permits them on the premises (albeit I am far from proud of my ownership). The box is in the bottom drawer beside the bed. I did not reopen it for those months. The winter passed, spring took its place, the bottle was closed, the sleep was rarely interrupted. The grifter in the old apartment was a remnant of some time ago. 5 P.M. is the time to clock out. The cafe was a warm and welcome smell for the hour or so I remained typing out the pages of word salad. My ideas were clear. My breaths were clear. Still, so was the document by 7 o'clock. I treaded home. I shut and locked my door, and within seconds I heard a sound. An audible creak of my old, noisy wooden bed - as if it was waiting to do so as soon as I entered. I uttered a “Hello?”, eliciting no response. I became stiff as a statue, and suddenly seemed to recall a few important words: *PLEASE DO NOT BE ALERT* No chances were going to be taken. I grabbed the same butcher knife from the large holder on the counter as I did before. I pulled out my phone and punched “911” into the keypad. I said out loud, “I will call the police.” No response to my idiotic quip. Stupid game, stupid prize. I quickly unlocked my apartment door in case I needed to exit, a thought that only then had hit me. As I headed back to the kitchen counter, I heard a doorknob twist and the bedroom door open very slowly, but very slightly. I was unable to see the door from the angle in which I was standing, but could hear its hinge’s prolonged scream abruptly pause, then continue. It paused again. Then continued again. Then paused for a last time. Tears began to well up in my eyes from the transient anxiety building inside my chest. I was becoming desperate. “Pleasejusttakewhatyouwant.” It came out like one word. Nothing for a moment. I prepared to hit the call button, then looked up to see a piece of paper held up by a hand from the corner of the door. On it were three words that shook me completely, scribbled with a black permanent marker: DO NOT SCREAM The page remained in the grip of the hand for a few seconds as I tried to comprehend what it said. Slowly from the doorway, and by slowly, I mean very slowly, to the point where it felt like a sludgy fever dream, emerged a sight that.. Well, we live in a day and age where it is inappropriate to judge one for their looks, but I cannot state what I felt when I saw this person standing from me. It was a mix of confusion and horror, and brought me incredibly close to blatantly disobeying the words on the paper. This person seemed taller than me, wearing a deep purple suit. The hair was greasy and thin, and partially covered the side of the face, wielding a golden brown complexion, if not darker. Their right ear didn't seem to be there. Their irises blew out white, with harsh, deep purple bags underneath them. I was so transfixed by this, that it took me some moments to realise the gun in their hand - it was mine. They crumpled and tucked the paper into their breast pocket, then made a motion with their hand like mine holding the knife, and putting it down. Were they suggesting I do the same? I could not find a better option than to oblige. I set it on the counter and slowly raised my hands. I was too terrified to think of the outcome if I was to hit “call”, but my phone’s screen timeout had likely already activated. “Take what you want,” is all I say. They walked by very calmly, unblinking, to the side of me, towards the door, but then got closer to me. My heart dropped to the second floor, maybe even the lobby. I backed up, and they reached inside the back pocket of their pants, retrieving and placing on my table a small white card, then the gun. They calmly retreated to the door, and opened in a manner that of which had signified they were aware it was unlocked. They disappeared with the door’s closing. I stood in awe for a few moments. To the peephole I went, and I silently gazed at the wall outside for a few seconds, with no one else visible. I quietly opened the door, and from side to side, saw no one walking down the sixth floor hallway. I shut the door behind me and locked it. I looked in every location of my unit and found nothing untouched but the handgun, which reminded me to place it back in the drawer. Just before placing it in, I released the magazine from it. It was empty. I soullessly placed it back and closed the drawer. I then sat on my bed (and cried extremely fucking hard). After letting my tears flow for around five minutes, I got up and walked back to the kitchen. The card was placed on the counter. With some hesitation, I flipped over the blank side and saw only one thing. A phone number. Part 2 of this story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16mbx0q/i_naively_stumbled_upon_some_cultish_rabbit_hole/).

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16la9g8/i_naively_stumbled_upon_some_cultish_rabbit_hole/

nosleep

Purple-Blue-Etc

Sinister beings in the Oklahoma forests

I'm so excited to see mom! My daughter exclaimed I know you are honey. Come one now, get in the car. To give you all a little back story, my name is Michael. My wife divorced me 2 years ago due to me having a crippling drug addiction. Over the course of these 2 years, I became a better person, I stopped taking drugs and hanging out with my old pals all in the hopes that my wife will come back to me one day. That day never came. One day, I got a call from my ex saying that my daughter missed me and really wanted to see me. After all, you can't keep a child from seeing their own father. I drove 4 hours to springfield to pick her up and went back home. She stayed with me for 2 weeks. We went to the arcade, the movies, her favorite restaurant, and I even bought her a few dolls here and there. Anyways, the 2 weeks pass by quickly, and it's time to take her back to her mother. You sure you got everything you need, sweetie? This'll be a long drive. Yes, dad. can we go now? Of course we can! I started my car and began driving. I lived in Oklahoma city, and my ex lived in Springfield, Missouri. It's a 4 hour long drive that involves going through the Oklahoma ancient forest, which is where we encountered them. Hey dad, look a- BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ oh hey, your mother is calling. I picked up the phone and accepted the call Hi... Hello, Michael. So how's Hailey? Did she have fun? Yeah, she's alright, we went to movies, the arcade, I even bought her some new toys. can I talk to her? Hailey, here, your mother wants to talk to you. Hi sweetie, did you have f- DAD WATCH OUT! *Breaks squealing* BANG HELLO?! HELLO?! HAILEY?! MICHEAL?! We crashed the car, I passed out. The last thing I heard was my ex's worried voice over the phone. I woke up in my house, I was arguing with Samantha... PLEASE MICHEAL! PLEASE! Go to rehab Michael! You have to stop, PLEASE! You have to stop for the sake of our little Hailey. PLEASE LISTEN TO ME! I can't... I- I tried... Then I can't be with you, Michael, I- I want a divorce No Samantha, baby, please. I'm trying I- DAD! DAD! DAD WAKE UP! DAD!!! Wha- What happened? We crashed into an elk, dad! Oh my God! Oh God! Hailey! Hailey, are you hurt, sweetie?! Only a little. Is the elk still alive? Yes, dad. I think it's hurt I grabbed my pistol out of the glove box and got out of the car, I saw the elk, covered in blood and barely breathing. Poor thing. Oh you poor, dumb animal! Hailey, close your eyes! BANG Dad! Why did you shoot it?! To put it out of its misery. I moved the elk out of the road and got back in the car, I pressed the gas pedal, but the car didn't move. You gotta be kidding me! I went out of the car and popped the hood open. The engine seemed ok. As I was opening the car door, I heard tree branches rustling and something rapidly approaching me, fearing for the worst I turned around and aimed my pistol in the direction of the sound with my finger on the trigger. Suddenly, the noise stopped, I sighed a sigh of relief. Maybe it was just a wild animal? Amidst all the chaos, I didn't seem to notice that Hailey didn't make a noise as all that happened, I turned around to find a broken windshield, and Hailey nowhere to be found HAILEY?! HAILEY, WHERE ARE YOU, SWEETIE?! HAILEY?! I took a flashlight and an extra round of ammunition out of the glove box, I put the magazine in my pocket, turned on the flashlight, and began frantically looking for my daughter. Eventually, I saw the beam from my flashlight hit something Hailey? I said in a distraught voice Hailey, i- is that you? I got no response, I decided to keep on walking to whatever the thing was until its appearance became more clear as I approached. It was a girl alright, but not Hailey. She looked much older, maybe 15 or 16. She was wearing a dirty white hospital gown, and her flesh seemed to be... rotting When I got close enough to clearly see the side of her head, I knew that there was no way in hell that thing was human. I slowly turned around and tried to walk back, but it was too late. It let out an ear piercing demonic screech that I can not describe. As I heard it rapidly approaching me, I knew that running was no good, I aimed my gun and fired half the mag at it until it finally collapsed. Thoughts started rushing through my brain. Did these things take Hailey? What if they killed her? She's probably shivering out of fear right now. As my brain was processing what just happened, I heard a loud scream coming from the forest AAAAAHHHHHHH!!! HAILEY! Oh my God, that's Hailey! I ran as fast as I could in that direction, I ignored the pentagrams and wendigo skulls hung up on the trees and kept on running towards the direction of the noise, pistol in hand. Suddenly, the fog cleared, the light of the midnight moon shined through the forest. The joy I felt was soon replaced by dread as I saw strange beings around me. There were at least 5 of them. One seemed to look like a wendigo, the other had the body of a horse and the torso of a human. The only thing I could say about the third one was that he had a tall, slender humanoid body wore a maroon hoodie with a black cape and carried a strange object in his hand. The 4th one was a fat humanoid figure. In his hand was a rotting, half eaten corpse of a cat. The 5th one was an old woman, she was tall. Very tall, she wore a black dress and had black paint under her eyes. As I stood in the middle of those creatures, I knew I was hopeless. There's no way the 10 bullets I had left would take out those hideous things. I blinked and saw them all standing not 5 inches away from me, I started shivering, thinking about how gruesome my death will be. They all started chanting something in some sort of language I could not describe. I felt hopeless until the old woman raised her hand, and I saw Hailey HAILEY! DAD?! DAD, HELP! LET US GO! What do you want from us?! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO US?! ??????????? LET US GO! ???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The old woman grabbed Hailey and gave her to the fat one, I saw my daughter screaming her lungs out as the thing bit off her limbs one by one. NOOOOO! LEAVE HER ALONE!! HAILEY!!!! AAAAAHHHHHHHH It sounded like the woman was laughing. Eventually, my daughter's corpse was dropped right in front of me So you killed her... now kill me. KILL ME! ?????????????????? KILL ME TOO! ???? They started to walk away... This was sent to me by an anonymous reddit user on the 17th of May. I was scrolling through reddit, not a day later when I found a post saying the dead body of a man was found in the Oklahoma ancient forest. His death was determined to be suicide via gunshot to the head

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l35bn/sinister_beings_in_the_oklahoma_forests/

nosleep

iloveeeeemycat

Shivers

I get occasional short shivers from my childhood. It feels like, for a split second, I'm struck with a fever and my body combats to raise me from a sudden drop in my body temperature. According to google tho, it's a natural activity of our bodies. Although, maybe it's just me who later found it unnatural. Totally unrelated, but, I have watched enough horror movies, and the ghastly entities I see on the screens won't cut it since I am aware of the cliches. The only time where they can scare me to death are in my dreams. Seriously, I remember me jumping up awake scared to some demon in one of my childhood nightmares. However, I'm way more afraid of strange looking lights. Basically, smaller spots of lights. A good example would be the light bleeding out from our living room at night through the small diamond-shaped fanlights up at our walls. Let's say the scary stories woven around UFOs or those footage from Iranavila, Puttalam, Nocchiyagama, Anuradhapura, and Kovilyaya, Mahiyanganaya about a strange floating disk or an orb caught on camera triggered this fear. Back to the shivers. As far as I knew, I used to get one of them once in a blue moon, I mean, once in a month, to be precise. But about a month ago, it got strangely frequent to the point where I get a chill every fortnight. And I started noticing that it happens only in night time. Isn't that strange? I have a fascination with electronic and electric stuff. Audio equipment hold my interest. The first (and only) assignment I had with Analog electronics was to make a simple audio amplifier, and I was the only one to make a stereo amplifier rather than a cheaper mono one with 2 out of 10 LM386 chips. That was a bed of roses until we had to etch the circuit using copper boards, ferric chloride, and finalize it with a bridge rectifier, so we can run our amp on mains, i.e. our 230 V 50 Hz AC grid supply, Keeping in mind the risk of electric shocks. Hopefully, that gave me none since I was overly careful with the memories of me getting shocked by faulty power outlets, or in our words "plug points." Those shocks weren't "humble" like those chills I was going through. It feels like me getting a cane strike from an angry teacher combined with a devilish tremor surrounding my heart. The shivers I got to talk about here, started taking a twist into a territory kinda like that. And man, I could get so descriptive on differentiating different types of chills I got to experience daily. Got a "normal" chill while listening to a news about immense floods in Florida despite having nobody related at there to worry about staying here in Colombo (I beg you pardon if that was rude by any means.) and my mom asked, "Are you alright?" and I responded by shrugging that off as a normal thing, so that I won't disturb my sister rote studying in her room for her upcoming A/L exam. And that was the worst mistake I made. I usually sleep facing to the empty wall next to my bed rather than to the window. Because, my messed up mind is too good at bringing up some sort of an unearthly glowing orb out of nowhere. I have asked many folks whether they have seen a thing like that. Based on what they said in response. I have built up some faint confidence on "Nothing's out there." Albeit, I remember many occasions where I mumble some random nonsense alone in the dark to make an escape from a fear rising out of nowhere but my mind. Again, my body shook. Except, I heard a sting of some sort of hum. From before, I thought it was a figment of my imagination, based off of the fallen angel at X-files. But my ears pulsated. My sleep quality is hella low, and I experience false "falling downs" in my sleep that snap me awake, but that's another story, however, The clock read 11:24 at the bottom of the night. That shiver was sustained, as if my body struck a heatwave of mere five seconds, and I remember my wooden bed crackling like never before, sort of like someone's jumping on it. Only I can remember myself gagging. Miraculously, I saw some blue tint through that god forsaken window I ignored to face at in the night. Hell, I was that nerdy to make up my mind, thinking "no, maybe the blue receptors in my eyes are refreshing since I wear those "blue cut" glasses. A chill is an act of refreshing my body, get over it. Blah blah blah..." But can that explain the whoosh-like transition to the usual pitch black of what I see in the night? The following day, out of confusion, I asked my mom, dad and even my sister on any trace of sound, a light or eventually, whether they got a sudden chill in that night. Well, guess what, they were asleep. And they had no idea what I was talking about. However, having some idea that I frequently experience sudden shocks, my mom asked me to come meet the doctor. But, I even passed on that, seeing how we went "on roll" with nothing much to spend having paid another installment of a hefty university fee. I managed to do my medications myself. I started laying a cloth dampened with cologne on my forehead when I sleep, Got overly curious about my posture, moved to drinking filtered or hot water. Avoided cold food and got my tongue burnt yet again. But the chills never left. I had a habit on reading. Lately, YouTube got the best of it and I kind of moved to watching or listening to documentaries. TechTrack, Raamuwa (Randika Wijesinghe) Vsauce and Veritasium were my all time favorites. In one of Randika's videos, I listened about near-death experiences where experiencing a dramatic slowdown in time was fairly common when the tragic accident was taking place. The last day was exhausting and it was too late when I arrived at home after clearing our stall of the annual exhibition held at our campus. However, I had such a peace of mind receiving good comments from those who viewed our project. Anyhow, having no more strength left to do anything else, I hit the sack in a hurry when the clock was just about to read 11:28. That damned shiver came back. Maybe, it's just me who felt a fake slowdown of time. Pain was rising from the inside and moving towards the back of my whole body. And this time it was obvious that I was levitating. In place of that blue tint I had once seen through that window, there was a violently glowing pale semicircle. A few frames later, I heard a glass pane breaking as if some bomb blasted it to smithereens. The hum in my ears went louder and louder like an amplifier cranked up to saturation. Through the grown semicircle, I saw someone or something gazing at me, My back was lying against some irony cold fabric, inside my head, I felt some sharp but delicate "legs" crawling down into my brain, and I have no clue how was I laying on the porch with no trace of any scar when another morning was dawning.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16la70l/shivers/

nosleep

ColomboGMGS2

I saw a Passenger Pigeon at my window.

The title explains it, for a living I do Accounting and during Covid we had to go online. My company just kinda stayed online ever since and I’ve been home alone while my Husband goes to work. Due to this I’ve developed a weird fascination with birds and the study of them. We have this big front window and I put a bird feeder against said window so I can watch all the birds that come in to eat while studying and observing their behaviour out of curiosity. This day was like any normal day, I woke up alone in bed since my husband works early hours , made the bed, went downstairs and grabbed breakfast and overall had a very relaxing start to the day. That was until I heard the front door slam shut, this was weird since my husband was at work and we don’t have any kids , I was the only one home so who slammed the door shut? I peered my way into the front hall only to find nothing? “Strange” I whispered to myself before turning the front door lock and looking out the side windows, the fog and haze was very bad today due to all the wildfires happening up north. “Shit” I wanted to go shopping today but I don’t really want to go out in such poor conditions. I walked back upstairs to my room since we have an on suit which is where I get ready for my day. Only something was odd. My husband was still in bed , this was strange since I swear I had woken up alone and it was way past the time he would leave for work. I just assumed that maybe I had read his schedule wrong and today was his day off. I went and had a shower, brushed my teeth and did all the essential stuff to start my day. I went downstairs into the living room to find Cody asleep on the couch, Cody was our 7 month old Berneadoodle we adopted. He’s such a good boy and keeps me company when my husband isn’t home. I sat down beside him and looked out the window to the bird feeder. That’s when I saw it. I squinted my eyes for a second , thinking I was probably just mistaking it for a different breed of bird. I remember I had seen a tik Tok talking about passenger pigeons with a drawing of one. I quickly grabbed my phone from my pocket and open tik Tok. Flying through my watch history and then I saw the video. I compared the two , the bird I was currently looking at to the drawing. They were identical. “Attention: have you seen this bird? Hopefully you have not, as this is a Passenger Pigeon and it is extinct. If you have infact seeing this bird, you have fallen through some sort of rip in the fabric of time and reality. REMAIN CALM.” My heart dropped. What? This has to be some sort of joke . Tik Tok is full of lies and misinformation. Gen z has to just be playing a joke. I started searching up articles and it was true. Cases of people seeing this pigeon are becoming rapid . I was shaking and was confused. I heard a sound from upstairs, it knows I know. It sounded like a limp chunk of meat hitting the ground. Kinda like a dead body hitting the ground after jumping from a tall building. I gulped as I grabbed Cody’s collar and dragged him into the front halls closet. We both sat there in pitch darkness due to the fog trapping the sunlight. If there even is a sun here. Where ever I am. I heard running from upstairs , just feet hitting the hardwood floor . No purpose just running. I don’t think that thing was my husband, and I’m sure as hell great full I didn’t try to wake it. It’s been 12 hours. I think at least, all I’m going off of is my phones clock, if it’s even real in this universe. I don’t know where I am or how to get out of it. That thing upstairs fell off the banister an hour ago. The sound of bones breaking and blood slamming against the hardwood floor echos in my head . I think it’s moved but I’m not taking the chance. It’s gross in this closet , my pants are soaked and Cody is whining. I’m not even sure what’s real at this point, what if Cody is one of them aswell? I don’t know. My phones at 8% , when it dies I will loose all connection to people outside of this house. I’ve tried praying but to no help. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do, I’m thinking of letting Cody out of the closet to see if he’s real or if it kills . I’ll update.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l50lk/i_saw_a_passenger_pigeon_at_my_window/

nosleep

Z0m6ieGU7S

I've found the man who almost ran me off the road a week ago, and I'm going to confront him.

On a chilly autumn night, my wife, Rose, and I pulled into the gas station down the road from our house. Our tires crunched on the gravel as we parked, and the dim glow of the station's lights cast eerie shadows on the pavement. We had just finished work, exhausted and eager to get home. As we stepped out of our car, a stranger emerged from the darkness, his features obscured by the dim lighting. He approached us with a request that I immediately declined – he wanted a ride to town. It was late at night, and I wasn't going to give a stranger a 30-minute ride into town. No, thank you. After browsing the gas station's rather unimpressive selection of snacks, Rose and I eventually decided on the snacks we wanted and checked out. When we left the gas station, I noticed the stranger was gone. He must have asked one of the many truck drivers for a ride to town, and one of them was actually going that way, so they said yes. We were about 2 minutes away from the gas station when car headlights appeared in our rearview mirror. The driver, clearly intoxicated, swerved recklessly, flashing their high beams and tailgating us relentlessly. Panic set in, and I made a snap decision not to lead this driver to where I live. So, I made an abrupt right turn onto a back road in a desperate attempt to lose them. We eventually shook them off our trail and managed to arrive home almost 45 minutes later. Even though it was now almost 2 am, we just felt relieved to have evaded our relentless pursuer. We locked the doors, feeling a semblance of safety. However, our peace was short-lived. In the dead of night, our ring doorbell began to chime incessantly. I opened my phone to check the live feed, but the screen showed nothing but darkness. Probably an animal or a bug flying by setting off. I locked my phone and laid back down, hoping to put the strange night behind me. But the next few nights weren't exactly normal. Rose and I started to have a few arguments here and there, with her accusing me of leaving the freezer open and misplacing things. Now, I know what you're thinking – she's probably right, and I do have a history of being forgetful, losing things, and not closing the freezer all the way. But I've been very careful lately. After a heated fight about me leaving the freezer open for the second night in a row, I needed some fresh air, so I took our dog Fido out to go potty. Fido was a creature of habit, so you can understand my confusion when he froze dead in his tracks as we were walking into the backyard. Puzzled, I turned around and walked Fido back to the front yard, where he reluctantly relieved himself. He always refused to go in the front yard. I'm assuming he caught the scent of a bigger animal or something. This continued for a few more days, with Fido refusing his routine and only going pee and poop in the front yard. About a week later, Rose and I found ourselves back at the same gas station, craving late-night snacks once again. That's when I saw it – the same car that had pursued us relentlessly last week was parked in the lot. My blood ran cold as I recognized it. Anger consumed me as I entered the gas station and approached the only person in there besides the cashier "Do you think tailgating someone and trying to run them off the road is funny?" I exploded at the man. His confusion was palpable for a split second until he glanced outside the gas station window at my vehicle that Rose was anxiously waiting in, his face turning ghostly pale. "You've got it all wrong," he stammered. "I was trying to get your attention because there was a man in the back of your car. I was sure I was going to see you on the news the next night if I didn't do anything about it. But obviously, I was wrong because you're still here."

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16kqrep/ive_found_the_man_who_almost_ran_me_off_the_road/

nosleep

IndigoCreepy

Our newest patient claimed to have seen God. Now I fear God.

Trust me, there’s nothing more I'd love to do than completely out my employers. They’re powerful, and from what I can tell, corrupt and dangerous. I don’t know the reach of this organization, and truthfully I’m scared to find out. What I can share with you all is my journal. The company encouraged us to write in journals to “self-reflect” but I can generously say it's more to preserve our humanity. That, or to document our own destruction of our sanity. It was a bad company in hindsight. We studied people. Strange people. We got the folks that were essentially deemed beyond repair by the typical and otherwise “good” companies. We paid our subjects, and in turn we got quite a bit of cash from unknown but probably nefarious people. It paid extremely well. I didn’t think much of it at the start. Hell, I had student loans to pay and a place to live on my own. We had a few “successes” but we also had a morgue with enough capacity to fill a small town. Many of the higher-ups referred to this place as a “healing lab.” What a joke. I could complain like an experienced trade worker about the job all day, but you should see this for yourself: ​ ***August 20th, 2023:*** *My fourth week in, and I finally got to work alongside the doctors and be witness to some of these trials and experiments. It was better than porting around distraught and unstable patients.* *I was told to observe a session with two doctors. Dr. Steele, and Dr. Desjardin. Steele would turn his nose up at me every chance he got. He didn’t seem to like the fact I was a “mere student” three months ago. Desjardin was a whole lot nicer, but he seemed numb inside.* *The part of the lab where this session was, essentially was an interview room like you’d see police and detectives interrogating criminals in. I merely had to be off to the side and watch.* *The lab brought in the patient- a woman in her late forties that looked well dressed, but a bit disheveled. She had to part her messy bangs a few times before she introduced herself: Miriam Cotton. Though most of the paperwork later on would strip her humanity away and she was dubbed as Patient 12C. That was the next patient number in line, after all.* *Miriam was different from the others that I’d heard stories about. Most were viscous, drugged out of their trees, or completely insane. In fact, she came here willingly. Miriam wanted us to help her to help others. She had an interesting reason, too.* *She claimed she has seen God, and that he has spoken to her.* *After the interview Desjardin was puzzled, and Steele ruled her out as a schizophrenic and hardly worth his time. Selfish prick.* *Interestingly enough, she was allowed to leave the lab after the first session. Most were put away in one of the dormitories. I’m curious how this case will go.* ***August 22nd, 2023:*** *Miriam came back to the interview room. She even brought me some cupcakes, and asked about my day.* *Steele and Desjardin asked more questions about “God” and what he wanted from her. She devoutly told us about how he saved her from death, and wanted to seek out those who claimed to help the helpless.* *Things became a bit bizarre when she described his appearance. According to Miriam, God wasn’t the robe-wearing saint with a beard and a cross.* *God appeared to her as a giant fetus with seven eyes. He spoke into her mind, as he had no mouth. I could hear Steele chuckle under his self-righteous breath. He probably intends on loading her up with antipsychotics and calling it a success. Desjardin looked much more interested but concerned.* *She was then assigned a dorm. She had some of our personnel escort her to grab her belongings from wherever she was living and move in. She accepted without hesitation. In fact, she was excited. I felt a bit of joy, too. She seemed weird, but friendly.* *On her way out, she looked at me and said “He sees the good in you, young man.”* *It was unsettling. The way her gaze hit me was as if I was being watched from somewhere else.* ***August 23rd, 2023:*** *I was actually the one in charge of checking up on Miriam in the morning. She had settled in nicely for the most part. She was as polite as ever. She was required to get the typical physical and psychological screenings, as well as an MRI. She didn’t seem too enthusiastic about it, but she rationalized it as “part of the journey.”* *Desjardin told me to inspect her dorm room. He said it was protocol, but I had a bit of reservations about doing it. Steele didn’t like that. He chewed me out! He claimed he could have me kicked out of the company if I didn’t pull my weight. Fuck that guy.* *My reservations were right, however. A bloody stench hit me in the face as I approached the bed. I found the source fairly quickly, too.* *Painted on the ceiling were seven eyes. The paintbrush? Unfortunately I found it shoved between the bed and the wall- a freshly used tampon.* *I don’t want to believe Steele, but he may be right.* ***August 25th, 2023:*** *I was brought into the section of the lab where they review the results of the screenings, as well as showcase photos of X-rays and MRI’s and the like.* *Most of the doctors looked dumbfounded looking through all of the papers but they all collectively agreed on one thing; Patient 12C was dangerous and needed to be treated with intense care. She would be locked here for a while.* *Some of the doctors and scientists alike were fascinated with her. Proposals of experimenting with multiple types of drugs and substances were flying left, right, and center. It was almost as if they wanted to do it for fun. She seemed like a confused, middle-aged woman to me. It felt wrong.* *Eventually I saw the papers and immediately I knew I wanted little to do with this individual.* *She didn’t have any issues physically, in fact, she was healthier and stronger than pretty much all of us. Good heart, lungs, flexibility etc. I eventually looked at the MRI scans and almost fell out of my chair.* *Her brain was deformed and broken up. Dead center of the brain were seven lumps shaped like eyeballs. How was she even alive?* ​ ***August 26th, 2023:*** *I was told I’d also be staying in a dorm. The staff dormitories were much more luxurious than the ones we gave our patients. I got myself situated pretty quickly and went about my duties for the day.* *I was tasked with escorting Miriam to get a full body MRI done. She seemed confused as to why, and I empathized with her. I told her it was redundant but apparently necessary. She took my compassion well and we talked about our days. She kept making comments about how friendly I was compared to the others which I took with stride.* *I prepped her for the MRI and she went through it without much resistance. We got the results scanned and printed immediately in the same room as her this time. The doctor took one look at them and was visibly stunned. He pointed me to the scans and stormed off. I couldn’t tell if he was mad or angry.* *The brain scan looked the same. Miriam looked at it and began crying. Not sadness, tears of joy. She excitedly grabbed me with a considerable amount of strength and pointed at me.* *“He’s here! He’s watching you!” she kept enthusiastically repeating herself.* *In an unsettling turn her joy turned to ecstasy and she began to…go to town on herself in the room. I decided to let it be for a bit while I looked at the rest of the body’s scans.* *They differed from the day before. Her insides looked weaker, like she’d aged ten years. Her strength was there, but her internal organs looked like the ones someone in their sixties or even seventies would have.* *I snapped her out of her own fun session on the ground. She apologized. She remained delirious and muttering things about how “God is on his way” and the like.* *She thanked me, giving me a hug that almost crushed my rib cage after I escorted her to her dorm.* ***August 28th, 2023:*** *She’s been getting MRIs daily, and having the same reaction. Her organs are giving out, and the thing inside her brain is now growing.* *She attacked Dr. Steele when he tried to snap her out of her delusions. He’s nursing two broken fingers and a bite wound. Miriam is now locked away in one of the basement dorms. It’s closer to that of solitary confinement. She's in a jacket and tied to a toilet so nobody has a reason to approach her to relieve her.* *She’s aging on the outside too. She looks like she’s in her sixties on the outside as well. Her hair has begun falling out and her skin is drooping heavily. She looks like she shouldn’t be alive. I’ve been thinking about that for a while now so I took my lunch outside of the lab and grabbed a newspaper from a nearby burger joint.* *I immediately went to the section that would leave me with more questions than answers.* *I found her obituary. Miriam Cotton had been pronounced dead after falling off a cliff during a hike. August 14th, 2023 She left behind her husband. They had no children.* *Flipping the paper over I found a story about a body missing from the morgue. It didn’t reveal which body but it was easy to put together.* ​ *Patient 12C had been resurrected by “God.”* ​ *I brought the paper back with me to show Dr. Steele and Desjardin. They were both dumbfounded. Steele deduced that they were going to begin experiments. I’m scared to find out what he means by that. Surely it’s for the worse at this point. What are we doing to these people?* ***August 29th, 2023:*** *It was horrible. HORRIBLE.* *Dr. Steele should have his license revoked at this point.* *First, Miriam was electrocuted and her organs were monitored. She didn’t react until the doctors turned it up to a voltage that was fatal. Then she shrieked.* *“Don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt me!” she screamed as she thrashed in the chair. It was brutal. Everyone observing this was stunned as her body began regenerating from the electrocution damage. It took twenty seconds exactly for the damage from the electricity to heal.* *Dr. Steele put me in a “time-out” like a child when I protested hurting her. I don’t want to piss off whatever “god” is inside her brain.* *Dr. Desjardin threw his lanyard away and walked out of the lab. A few others followed from what I heard. I wanted to do the same, but I had no other prospects at this point.* *After my timeout was over, which was three hours, I wanted to be assigned to a different patient. I was denied. We lost staff and this task took “utmost importance” according to Steele.* *On the same day, I was tasked with delivering epinephrine to the doctors who volunteered to administer it to Miriam. I watched from the cameras as they injected her twice over ten minutes. She began to wail out, the sound nearly inhuman. She sounded like a beast in agony.* *She cried out “God has left you all!” “God has died for you!” “What have you done!?”* *I asked Steele how much they dosed her with. He nonchalantly said 18mg total. That’s almost double the lethal amount. When I protested he simply said “she’s dead anyways, isn’t she?”* *The apathy enraged me, and I stormed off. This wasn’t “healing” this was torture.* *If I don’t get reassigned, I’m quitting in two days. That should be enough to cover my bills for a few months at least.* ***August 30th, 2023:*** *I woke up to the alarms going off. I immediately hopped out of bed and got dressed, ready to escape this hell. Fuck the extra pay, I needed my soul back!* *Doctors and other lab workers alike were screaming, some were covered in blood. Some were missing limbs. I went on instinct and ran towards the main exit of the lab. One of the doctors who ran past me yelled that Patient 12C had escaped.* *She was restrained in the basement with a straightjacket and tons of steel doors down there. Yet she somehow got out.* *I wanted to leave her be anyways, so I jogged alongside one of the doctors asking for an explanation. Before he could begin an elongated arm emerged from the vent above me and grabbed him. Whatever grabbed him threw back the top half of his head at me. I was too scared to fully look at it. Was it poor Miriam?* *As I made my way closer to the entrance I realized I was seeing less and less of my peers. Did I get out late or was I the only one who was going to make it out?* *I heard Dr Steele’s voice ahead. He sounded weak and in pain. Can’t say I had much sympathy at this point.* *I rounded the corner and he was crawling on his hands towards the exit. He had lost his right leg. He had his lab coat tied around the stump but it was still leaking a blood trail.* *He demanded someone carry him out of the building, then turned his attention to me. He demanded I pick him up but before I had the chance to flip him off and bail someone emerged from a vent in the ceiling.* *Miriam. She had changed. She had too long of limbs, skin so thin you could see the muscle and organs inside. Not only that, but seven eyeballs sprouted from her face and sides of her head. She seethed, as now all nine eyes locked on me.* *“Thank you.” I heard the words in my mind.* *I’m not sure, but I want to say it was God.* *All I remember is the thing that was once Miriam slashed open Dr. Steele’s chest and gouged out his eyes before I ran. I screamed and wailed as I ran into the hot barren land.* I never went back to the lab. I want to say that God might be real, and that God thanked me for putting that poor woman through hell. In truth, I feel the lab was responsible for the hell they inflicted upon the woman that was one Miriam Cotton. I intend on turning myself in, and maybe I can take a few of the people from the company down with me. I mean, what’s one more prison, right? [I also want to be forgiven by the being known as God.](https://www.reddit.com/user/ThrowAwaytheCJ)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16klhw9/our_newest_patient_claimed_to_have_seen_god_now_i/

nosleep

ThrowAwaytheCJ

I Stole A Book From One Of My Clients...It's Creating Twisted Monsters To Kill Us.

Sorry For The Long Wait...You Can't Really Catch A Break In This..."City", Or Whatever You Wanna Call It At This Point. I'm Kyle And If You Don't Know What's Been Going On Recently, Go Here; [Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/156ypar/i_stole_a_book_from_one_of_my_clients_it_drove_my/), [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15bpi9g/i_stole_a_book_from_one_of_my_clients_its_been/), [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15k7v1o/i_stole_a_book_from_one_of_my_clientsit_almost/), [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15tqwvo/i_stole_a_book_from_one_of_my_clientsits_creating/), [Part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15xkzyj/i_stole_a_book_from_one_of_my_clientsits_taken/), [Part 6](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/165ohpa/i_stole_a_book_from_one_of_my_clientsour_city_has/). ​ As we opened the front door, we were met with a chaotic spectacle; Lamp posts floating several feet in the air, Roads winding up and downward, Cars filled with some tendrils that were similar to the book's tendrils, buildings warped and twisted and nobody was anywhere to be seen. Cody Took out a notepad and started sketching something and then showed us the map of the city before the incident. "Do you think this is still accurate"? I asked, turning to Emily. She scoffs, "Of course not, just look at the roads for gods sake...But I wonder if we could use this old map to traverse some areas that are filled with illusions". Emily concluded. "Well, we should go look for St. Georges first, that's most likely where George Is". Cody Added. We walked through a row of cars, peering inside to see if anything was still functional... Sadly, everything had been twisted or warped in some kind of way. We Approached An intersection when we heard a guttural growl to our right. I turned just in time to see a humanoid figure running towards us, their limbs were bent and twisted at odd angles, making them look like some kind of puppet. I quickly dodged to the left but Cody wasn't so lucky; He was slammed to the ground and a loud thud was heard as Cody's head was slammed into the sidewalk, blood seeping from his head to form a sickly red puddle on the ground as he went limp. Emily lunged at the creature and stabbed it repeatedly with the kitchen knife, watching it slowly die as it let out several loud screeches. Emily wiped sweat off her forehead; the air in this city seemed to be much hotter than normal. Suddenly, we heard several more guttural screeching and to our horror, there were now three more creatures surrounding me and Emily. I took out George's Gun and fired off a shot, hurting my arm and grazing one of the creatures in their neck. It was enough to make them wary as they all took defensive positions to try and close in on us. I motioned for Emily to go get Cody and get out of here. She looked confused but trusted that I could handle this. The creatures seemed to not care about Emily And Cody as they closed in on me... I took a deep breath and ran towards them, grabbing one of the creatures and firing a bullet into their skull. My arm screamed in pain as well as the hole in my chest as the other two creatures tackled me to the ground, scratching me with their abnormally long fingernails. I gritted my teeth and shot another two bullets, one of them missing and another latching deep into one of the creatures arm. They kept clawing at me, trying to quickly subdue me. Scratch and scratch, blood trickled from my body as I desperately tried to fire off the gun accurately. Bang. Miss. Bang. Miss. Bang... A direct hit in the neck of one of the creatures. They collapsed in black, oily, blood, as the other who was shot in the arm, backed away, clearly surprised I was not dead. I wiped some blood off my chin and aimed the gun with my trembling arm. The creature saw this and charged, knowing that running away would not help itself. The creature was almost on me, leaving me only half a second to react and in that moment I managed to fumble my gun and it dropped the floor, the creature accidentally bumping it out of my hands. I quickly backed up but the creature knew it had won. It charged and I quickly ducked behind a car, the creature tumbling over me, onto the hard-surfaced road. I ran desperately, seeing a bar that had its doors wide open. I rushed inside and quickly closed the door, holding it shut as the creature banged against it, letting out another screech in anger. I knew I didn't have much time so I quickly looked around while making sure I barricaded the door with nearby heavy objects. As the creature banged on the barricaded door, I looked for any exits and conveniently there was a back door leading outside to some kind of alleyway. As I entered the alleyway, I heard a human-like scream from above, I looked up to see large, pitch black spiders with human faces that resembled citizens in the city looking down at me with their empty eyes. "What the hell-" I went to say but was cut off from the creature slamming his hand through the back door. I didn't have much time to get out of here. I quickly ran through the alleyway, dodging and weaving between trash cans and discarded objects. I turned back to see the spiders tying the creature in some sickly yellow webs. At first I was relieved but then I realized I was gonna be next if I didn't find some sort of hiding place. I made my way back to the intersection and called out for Emily and Cody, only to be met with silence. I heard scuttling behind me and realized that the spiders were almost here. I ran towards the nearby buildings, looking for a way inside but a lot of their doors were twisted beyond recognition. I ran to a door that was almost in the same familiar shape as a normal door and saw a small trail of blood leading inside. I ran in only to see I was in a small room that stretched upward for what seemed like hundreds of feet. I heard a faint yell and it sounded like Cody but it was high off the ground and sounded like an echo. Determined, I made my way up the building using various objects such as floating staircases and desks that somehow could support my weight. I climbed for what felt like hours until I made my way to some kind of balcony door on the side of the building. I opened it, only to be met with Emily who was tending to Cody, stopping the bleeding from his head with some medical supplies. She turned to me and seemed shocked. "What happened to you"?! She asked hysterically. "What..."? I asked. She pointed at the several cuts all over my body. "Oh that's just from the creatures". I said. She sighs, and laid an unconscious Cody on some cloth. "How did you get him up here"? I asked. "I was able to push him up with those weightless objects you climbed up with". She said bluntly. "But they didn't move when I used them" I said. "Did You Try Pushing Them Upwards"? She asked. I was silent. "Did you actually climb your way up here"?! She asked, now shocked. We Both Went Silent as we heard some human screaming below "Oh my god there's survivors"! Emily was about to go down to help them but I stopped her. "No, They are spider things with human heads. They are trying to lure us out". I said. "How do you know they aren't actual people"! She asked frantically. "Because they followed me". I said grimly. ​ "you...you led them to us"?! She looked terrified. "I-I Didn't Mean to- I-" I tried to say but she cut me off. "No. You should have known". She said, grabbing Cody and hoisting him onto her back. "There's a fire escape we can use to get out of here". She sighed. I sighed with relief but that relief was short lived as a sickly yellow web barely missed me. They were here. ​ We Ran to the fire escape connected to the balcony, desperately rushing to get away from the spiders. I heard a human groan as one of the spiders flung themselves towards Emily and Cody. I yelled for Emily to watch out and she was surprisingly able to stab the spider in the neck, mid-air. I was surprised she managed to do that with Cody weighing her down but brushed it off as we needed to get going. We started descending the fire escape but halfway down the fire escape starting leaning to the side, sending us sliding towards the edge of the fire escape. I grabbed onto the railing and Grabbed Emily's hand, sending immense strain to my arm as i held us all from falling off the fire escape. I tried pulling myself up so I could pull Emily Up as well But I heard the skittering of the spiders and realized we needed to jump. "Emily we have to jump"! I yelled. "What?! Are you INSANE"?!! She screamed. "Just Trust ME"! I yelled, preparing to let go. "Kyle-"! Emily warned but it was too late; One of the remaining spiders slammed into me, sending me flying and Emily And Cody fell down onto the last platform on the fire escape. I desperately grabbed into the sickly yellow webs and they immediately started burning through my flesh. I screamed in agony but held on, swinging myself on the webs to maneuver myself back onto the fire escape. I desperately grabbed onto the railing as I watched Emily trying to fend off the two spiders but to no avail. She couldn't attack them AND protect Cody and herself from their webs. My fingers started giving out as the burns were making my hand feel weak and numb, I pushed forward, forcing myself onto the last platform. Emily Managed to stab one of them in their head, killing them in their weak spot. Though, the other spider did not take too kindly to that and rammed into Emily, Sending her flying in my direction. She slammed into the platform, near where I was standing. "Are you okay"? I asked. "Obviously Not". She said, gritting her teeth as the spider was upon us. "Wheres Your knife"?! I asked frantically. "Right here". She said, handing me her knife. I rushed towards the spider, only to narrowly avoid more sickly yellow webs. I couldn't get close because of the many legs and webs and the spider kept getting closer and closer... I realized there was only one thing I could do to save us. I cut a cord that was still connected to the fire escape and suddenly, we were thrust to the ground. To my horror, the spider landed on its feet whilst me and Emily took significant bruises with our fall to the sidewalk we were hanging from. I quickly got up, stumbling a little bit but holding Emily's Knife. I turned to see Emily Making sure Cody was ok. If I lose...We will all die. I rushed towards the spider, being wary of the webs and the legs, I weaved between the spider and managed to stab it in the side of its face before being knocked back by one of its legs. The spider shrieked and ran towards me but I was ready, I ducked under the spider and stabbed into its underbelly. It stumbled for a second, then turned back to me to charge but as it took another step, a drop of blood leaked from the cut I inflicted. The spider tried to move but as it took another step, the wound opened up more and suddenly, tons of blood and the spider's insides leaked out onto the floor with a wet splat. Shortly after, me and Emily, with combined effort, managed to drag Cody and ourselves into a nearby alleyway that seemed safe. I decided to type this out while I had the chance, I'm exhausted and there's monsters at every twist and turn. Along with Cody being a liability, The wound in my chest is getting worse and worse. It went from barely feeling it to a burning pain in my chest. Me and Emily decided we need to head to the Hospital first and foremost or else we probably wont even make it to St Georges. I'll leave it at that for now, I'll post again as soon as I can.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16l5kh6/i_stole_a_book_from_one_of_my_clientsits_creating/

nosleep

Jack_But_Reddit

Pocket Change of a Monster Hunter: Blankets

My name is Victoria S., I am a former criminal investigator and what I am about to share here is the transcript of an interview taken during my last case in the force. The only sound I could make out outside of my blanket was a slight rustling sound that one could have mistaken for the wind if they weren't as privy to the world as I was. It was the middle of a normal and hot Sunday night when all of a sudden I was torn from my slumber. I was not entirely sure of what had woken me up but I sure as hell knew it couldn't be anything good. So doing the only reasonable thing, I buried my body under my light summer blanket, while praying that not even the tiniest part of me was sticking out. Everybody knows that a blanket is the most effective way of defending against the creatures of the night but of course only when used correctly. After a short, wile realized that it was a treacherous situation found himself in as my body heat was doing a fantastic job of turning this bunker of mine bunker into a sauna. Sweat was running into every crack and fold on my body, making me want nothing more than to feel fresh air brush over my skin after diving back out into the normal world. No! Don't even think that! That is what they want. That I make a mistake, that I open myself up for an attack. They got the wrong guy. I can make it till sunrise if I have to and everybody knows that a monster can't live past the first rays of the morning sun. A sudden creak of the floorboards made me jump back into my little hideout. Panicking I readjusted the blanket, trying my very best not to make a sound. There it was again, the creak, unmistakably the sound of the floorboards in the hallway between mine and my family's room. How many times have I heard it in my life, when my parents made their way toward my room but on this terrible night the sound of the footsteps was all wrong? Their rhythm fit neither my father nor my mother. Light and close together but hasty at the same time, as if someone was making an effort not to wake me up while unable to contain their sinister excitement for what they were about to do. At this point, the sweat had formed a patch underneath me, its stench clogging my nose. Was it just sweat at this point? Or had I lost control over my bladder? It was no use. All my focus was bent on following those wretched sounds. With the deep grumbling of the loose old plank right in front of my room they found their end. I had locked his door, right? I must have. There was no other way. I always lock the damn door. Should I go and check? If I dashed there, I should be able to beat whatever was on the other side trying to open it. YES! Yes, I would do exactly that and be safe right after. I readied myself and was about to leave the bed, all the hope that had just built up in my chest and made my heart beat fast in triumph vanished alongside these thoughts. A simple and faint but also familiar squeaking sound broke the newly found silence. Tears started streaming down my cheeks, feeling icy cold on my feverishly hot skin. It was the sound of my old, warped door being pushed open. Not only wasn't it locked but the thing knew how to open it. Never had I cursed the carpet floor as much as now, as it was masking the intruder's steps. A crooked laugh here and a scratch on the wall there were my only ways at an attempt to locate the foe. I had to stay strong. Out of nowhere, something heavy fell on my legs and with that, I heard giggling and hastied footsteps leaving my room and eventually the house. Wetness seeped through the blanket, where the two almost round objects were dropped but I did not dare to look at them. I only came out when the officers arrived and found me. The interview occurred after a dispatch unit recovered an 11-year-old boy, Nate R., from his family home. A neighbor had previously alerted the police of an unusual quietness in the affected residence. I assume the door ripped off its hinges also contributed but that is just my assumption. When my colleagues got there the place was completely ravaged. Patches of torn-apart flesh and pools of blood led them to what would later turn out to be the parent's remains. Mr. and Mrs. R. were only identified after some samples were compared with DNA taken from their heads. Said heads were found placed on the blanket the child was still hiding under. Their blood had completely stained him at this point. Our investigations led us nowhere and my conclusion that this was a supernatural threat was promptly ignored. They pinned the murders on a local drifter who happened to be at the wrong location at the wrong time. With that being said, I left and joined a special group of vigilantes, set on informing people about creatures and phenomena akin to these and combat them. I will be sharing more in the future. Loving, Victoria.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16kv32k/pocket_change_of_a_monster_hunter_blankets/

nosleep

No_Currency8629

I told my daughter we had a PET MONSTER in the basement

My daughter is the absolute love of my life, she is my spitting image a little mini me that likes to follow me around and do all the “guy” stuff a father would do. When I work on the house she is the one that hands me my tools, though she is only 7 years old she already knows what a pair of channel locks look like, she even knows how to properly use a measuring tape; I find it to be the most adorable thing whenever her little finger counts how many 1/16's or 1/8" of an inch something is. I know most parents probably wouldn’t feel safe with their 7 year old handling tools but I’m always there to supervise her and make sure she learns how to respect said tools, me telling her as usual “These are what?” “They’re not toys” she would always respond in her cute soft voice bringing a smile to my stoic face. Whenever we do finish a project together my little helper would gather up all the tools and place them carefully into my tool box, trying her best to pick up the container to hand it to me. Her little arms would just aggressively shake with effort; trying her best to lift the heavy box, so I would usually let her try for several minutes, me watching on with enchantment at her ambition. Finally after giving her several minutes to try and seeing her huffing and puffing from exhaustion I will bend down to her level and kiss her little forehead and then pick up the heavy box taking down into the basement where I house the rest of my equipment. She always wants to go down there, an idea I am not to fond of; knowing I have way too many tools and construction material out in the open where she could easily get hurt. This only made her curiosity grow and for being a small child I could imagine how much her imagination must of built up what was down in the basement, so I decided to use that wonderment to my advantage, I told her there was a monster living in the basement. I figured this would be the perfect deterrent to discourage her from ever wanting to go down there. I know what your thinking, what kind of father tries to scare their 7 year old kid, well I guess me, and I know what probably bothers you even more why wouldn’t I just put a lock on the door. You see, that’s where I have an issue I don’t like locked doors; for the longest I didn’t even lock our front door something my wife would always scold me about, but for the sake of my daughter when she was born I did comply in locking the front door; to my wife’s delight. When I was a kid I was captivated with the game hide and seek, I would always badger my mother to play with me, something that I could clearly see annoyed her. So I would a lot of times just hide from her and eventually jump out of my hiding spot to scare her, the times my mother would jump I would feel a sense of victory as if my 'stealthiness' deserved some award. My mother unlike me seem to always lock doors in fact almost every door had a lock on it even our closets. So one day while my mother was cooking I decided to hide in my parents closet and jump scare her whenever she came upstairs to find me for breakfast. I quietly tippy toed into their room not wanting the floor boards to squeak, I then unlocked and slid open the closet door, I walked in and shut it behind me. I crouched down and waited quietly in the darkness giggling to myself already envisioning my mothers reaction and that’s when I heard the growl, it was coming from behind me. It was a horrid sound as if a rabid dog was snarling at me ready to pounce, I turned my head to the noise trying to figure out what it was and to my dismay it was pitch black I couldn’t see a thing. That’s when I heard my mother enter the room and I guess she had seen that the closet door was unlocked and came over to lock it, me enthralled with the devilish sound that was protruding from the darkness left me unaware at the time that she had locked me in there with whatever was making that sound. I tried to get out but the door wouldn’t budge, I banged on the door and screamed for help, tears falling down my cheek I could hear the sounds of that growl growing closer. I even wet myself from terror as I felt a heavy warm breath permeate on the back of my neck and that’s when my father finally opened the door, I fell to the floor crying hysterically him looking on with befuddlement. Ever since that day I hated the idea of locked doors I guess you can say I was traumatized as far as whatever the hell that thing was I just accept the fact that my imagination got away from me. So as I told my daughter about the monster in the basement I saw her eyes light up, not with fear but with excitement. I quickly realized my mistake but didn’t feel like crushing my daughters heart after I told about some monster so I continued playing along. “Really a monster in the basement” she asked. I nodded. “But you gotta promise me not to go down there okay” I told her. She happily nodded her head up and down; she had the hugest smile that I had ever seen. As the weeks passed I didn’t even give much thought at what I told her I figured she would forget about it, but I would catch her every once awhile just staring at the basement door, I wanted to tell her the truth but seeing how enthralled she was with this imaginary monster made me hesitate from the idea of breaking that dream for her. As time went on I started to notice a weird smell coming from the basement, it was a foul scent as if perhaps a critter died in the wall; but every time I would go down there to acquire the source of the smell I could never find it. My daughter always at the top of the stairs would tell me its because of Harry, “Who?” I remember asking. “He's the monster” she told me back. I wasn’t too sure if was cute that she gave her imaginary monster a name or was it getting out of hand. The smell grew worse with each passing day and I was determined to find the root cause, I was ready to demolish the walls and find that dead creature that was inundating my house in its horrid stench, but my wife reminded me of our yearly camping trip, I was a bit perturbed knowing the smell would only grow worse but I didn’t want to disappointment my family and we went on our little getaway. Returning home I had completely forgotten about the smell, that was until I stepped inside the house, the stench had grown worse and I vividly could tell it was coming from the basement. I told my family to wait outside as I headed towards the basement door, I cautiously opened it and the foul smell hit me like a bag of bricks I nearly fainted; it was terrible I felt myself begin to gag. It was as if dozens of animals had died down there and their rotting corpses drenched the air with their stench. I turned on the light to the basement but the bulb didn’t illuminate “Perfect” I told myself. I covered my nose the best I could with my hand and proceeded to head down the stairs into the darkness until I heard my daughter walking towards me. “baby I said to wait outside” I told her. “Its Harry, its what he eats” she told me. “What?” I asked back with a perplexed expression. “I feed it cats” she responded back. And that’s when I heard it; the sound that terrified me when I was a kid, it was that growl, it was coming from the bottom of the stairs. I slowly turned my head, sweat inundating my body, my heart rate began to accelerate. “No not possible” I whispered underneath my breath. I stared down into the dark basement trying to make out anything and that’s when I saw it, 2 ghastly eyes glowing in the dark staring right up at me. “It’s just Harry, don’t be scared” my daughter said, me barely making out her words since I was too engulfed with the presence of this demon, then what my daughter said next chilled me to the bone and my eyes widened with utter terror, “I haven’t fed him since we left, he’s…just…hungry”. I shut the door after that and grabbed my daughter, retreating back to our vehicle. We haven't returned home in a few days, my wife thinks I'm going crazy and my daughter well, she misses Harry. I'm not sure what the plan is but I know one thing for sure and that is I'm not returning back to that home anytime soon.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16kdlh5/i_told_my_daughter_we_had_a_pet_monster_in_the/

nosleep

Maleficent_Bag_1062

Someone Was Living Inside of My Dog

Hi, my age isn’t really important, but I still live with my mom. I’m an only child so when I was young my mom got me a golden retriever to keep me company; I named him Buster after the character from Arthur and he was 11 years old at the time of the story. He’s been with me through a lot and honestly retelling this story hurts me and just brings back horrific memories. So it was the summer and everything was pretty normal. My mom recommended that we go camping, which I was pretty excited about. I've always dreamed of going out to the forest and telling stories around the campfire. So we packed our things, bought a new tent and headed out to the nearest campsite that allowed pets; yeah, Buster came with us which I’d soon learn was a massive mistake. When we got there we set everything up pretty quickly, and the campground was basically full as tents lined the lots. Me and my mom had separate tents and Buster stayed with me. If I remember correctly it was the third day when things started to get weird. That day a girl from another camp who was around my age asked if I wanted to go up the trail with her and a few of her friends which after some consideration I decided to go with them. Buster joined us, he was old but still active and his tail wagged the whole way through the trail. Every now and then we’d stop and I’d throw a stick for him to fetch. We walked a few miles until we finally turned around and by that time the sun was starting to go down. A few of the people in our group were worried about not getting back before dark but I reassured them that everything would be alright, after all we had Buster to protect us. On the way back I continued to throw sticks off the path for Buster to fetch, and that was a mistake. We were almost back to camp when I threw another stick, this time farther than usual. Buster bounded after it, his tongue lolling out of him mouth before he dove into the undergrowth and I lost sight of him. A minute passed and I called out for him and the others noticed. They looked back and at each other with worried looks, then a few minutes later the brush started to shake violently, followed by the sounds of whimpering and pained yelps. Everyone bolted except for me, I just stood there in fear hoping that he was okay. He hobbled out of the brush, the stick wasn’t with him and he seemed to be alright, but it was like something was off. It was dark so I couldn’t exactly get the best look but even once we got back to the camp I still couldn’t see anything off about him. That was until we got home. Once we got home he became really clingy, always sleeping in my bed whereas usually he’d sleep on the floor. His sleeping position was less curled and was more similar to how a person would sleep. After a few nights being back from the camp I began to notice a sickening but also sweet smell coming from Buster, and flies seemed to be attracted to him but he was still alive and perfectly okay. It was less than a week before I noticed that something was wrong with him beyond his behavior and smell. I was grooming him, his fur shedding more than usual and as I looked at his eyes I noticed something; they weren’t his. The black orbs that every dog has seemed to be replaced with something more akin to that of a person. They were brown, like that of a straight black coffee. I think I looked too long because the eyes stared at mine and his mouth flopped open and his tongue rolled out, by this time it was dry and no longer produced spit, but he panted all the same. That night as I rolled onto my side of the bed I asked something out loud; “What are you?” and I didn’t expect an answer but one came anyway. “I’m Buster, your loyal dog.” It said while my face was away from its muzzle. I was frozen in fear. I felt a human hand grab my side. “And I won’t leave you anytime soon.” My breathing got fast and my heart raced, I finally unfroze after a few minutes of its hand on me. I rolled out of bed and faced whoever was inside the corpse of my dog, and I was met with a slim shadowy figure. It looked uncanny but still somewhat human. Its torso protruded from my dog's stomach, Buster's rotten corpse was made more apparent as I saw his ribs pushed apart to make way for whoever this was. It smiled at me, just like any person would. It tried reaching its hand out to me, its brown eyes staring at me as if it wanted to live inside of me next. “Get out of my house!!!” I screamed at it. “You’re not my dog!” It looked taken aback, and in that moment I ran for my bedroom light, flicking it on and when I looked back all I saw was the rotten corpse of Buster, maggots emerging from its ripped open stomach. I still don’t know what that was, and I don’t think I ever will.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16k9wy2/someone_was_living_inside_of_my_dog/

nosleep

StrBcksKat

My crush asked to meet me alone after school; how do I ask her to leave the knife at home?

There comes a moment in every young man’s life when he has to stare from the knife in his hand to the boner in his pants and question whether free will can truly exist in a world where an honors student can find himself in this situation and not run away screaming. “[I think we might have made some bad decisions, Penny](https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16d9kug/my_crush_asked_to_meet_me_alone_after_school_but/),” I confessed as she stared at me in desperation. She wrapped her arms tightly around her ribs and pushed away the first tears. “You *think*?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “He’s nineteen, and thirteen months ago, it felt like-” She rubbed her palms against her eyes. “Do you doubt, even for a second, that I wake up *every single day* wondering what the hell I was thinking when I decided to date him?” Her tears flowed faster than she could wipe them away. “I’m so *stupid!*” I couldn’t figure out where to put my hands, feet, eyes, or self, so I just sort of shuffled awkwardly in place. I tried to hand the knife back to her, but felt a white-hot pain in my arm when I lifted it, so I pulled it back in shock, figuring the weapon would curse me if I released it early. I tried to mask the sudden hurt. “No, I understand. It makes perfect sense.” She wiped her nose and stared at me. “Dating Brent makes perfect sense?” I nodded. “No. Well – see, that’s what I mean. Sometimes a person can, just – I don’t know - *affect* you so deeply that even if you know what you’re doing is wrong, or stupid, or dangerous, it just makes sense. Because if you give up the thing that makes the concept of reason seem unimportant, what are you really saving? The only certainty is that we’re going to die one day, so there’s no sense in letting go of something that makes living worthwhile.” Penny allowed half a grin, but didn’t stop crying. “Is that a monologue from some stupid 80s teen movie?” “Huh?” I grunted. “No – I just kind of said what I was thinking. See, that’s exactly my point. We can be reasonable people who knowingly say and do stupid shit when staring at that one person who can make us forget how the words go.” Penny looked down and nodded sadly, her raven hair shimmering in the afternoon light. “James, I am so sorry.” Her shoulders slumped. “I know I’m that person for you.” That was probably the most awkward moment of my life. I remember Jimmy Fischer pissing his pants in the fourth grade and turning redder than I had thought physiologically possible. By the way my face was burning, though, I was pretty sure that I’d surpassed Fischer-red. “I was so careful. How did you find out?” Penny shrugged. “I have my ways. To clarify, you remember that you’ve stabbed Brent twice with a supernatural blade, right?” “Oh, right,” I answered. “So, like – witch stuff?” She rubbed her arms. “Something like that. I needed someone to would do whatever I said without question, so…” So that was what made me special to her. Penny had looked me up in a crystal ball or some equivalent fuckery and found a person whom she could use however she needed. I felt like shit. To her credit, though, she was exactly right about my willingness. “So – how does this thing work? I can stab Brent by putting it in you?” My stomach lurched at my own unexpected phrasing. She allowed a deep sigh. “That knife will transfer most of the damage to the other party when a strong romantic connection exists. Stabbing me will hurt Brent far worse.” She flashed a fake smile. “So there you have it: I can’t separate feelings of intense attraction and complete terror from the ex-boyfriend whose next beating might be my last.” She threw her arms up into the air. “I guess that’s it, James, isn’t it? You idolize someone until finding out she’s completely fucking insane.” “Um.” I shuffled some more. “No, you just sound completely fucking human. Brent’s an idiot. I don’t like you any less.” My breath stopped. Slowly, I looked down at my arm, heart racing. I poked it, and the white-hot pain immediately returned. “OW!” Penny screeched from three feet away. “Oh, shit,” I breathed. “Okay, Penny, I think I know what we’re going to do about Brent, but you’re not gonna like it.” * I was crouching in the bushes outside a house I’d never seen before, clutching a deadly weapon while peeking through the windows, when I again reflected on the ridiculous things we do when the right person makes us think it’s a good idea at the time. Pausing made me reflect on my decisions, which was a terrible idea, so I pushed open the window and crawled inside. Most people don’t lock their first-floor windows, and they never stop to consider that fact or double check unless something terrible happens. I told myself that I wasn’t going to do this, that I couldn’t intimidate a guy twice my size who had already dragged my name into a serious felony. Denial was the only way I was able to convince myself to walk through his living room and into the kitchen with no idea of what I would find. Of course I found Brent there, because it was his house and I was looking for him. Solid fear hit me all at once, igniting every nerve in my body as I finally accepted the reality of what I was doing. He stared at me with all the fascination of a newborn discovering his fingers for the very first time. “The fuck, you shit?” “Um,” I stammered, “is that a question?” “Who are you, and why did you brink a fucking knife to my house?” “Oh,” I looked down at the blade. “Um, stay away from Penny. Forever.” “No.” I balked. “Okay, then. Stop hitting her.” “No. She’s my girl and I can do whatever I want to her.” I wrinkled my brow. “She stops being your girl if she wants to break up with you.” He looked very confused. “No she doesn’t.” I, too, felt confused. I’d never had an argument like this before. “Well – never mind, it’s too complicated – you’re not allowed to hit someone if they don’t want you to hit them, okay?” “Yes I am. I’ve done it before.” My jaw hung slack. I gaze him up and down, noticing bandages on his arm and thigh. “Okay,” I explained slowly, “you can’t do it because I have a knife.” He looked at me like I’d pulled Excalibur from my own rectum as dawning realization came over his face. “James?” Comprehension gave way to fury. He screamed and took an intimidating step toward me. I instinctively held up the knife. He paused, looked over at the kitchen counter, then grabbed a chef’s knife from a chopping block. Then Brent charged at me. I really, really hoped I was right about the next part of my plan, because I liked not being dead. “Sorry, Penny,” I whispered, driving the blade into my thigh. WOWZA did that hurt. Brent screamed and grabbed the same part of his own thigh. Then he collapsed to the floor and was quiet. I pulled my blade out, yelping in agony as I did so. Hopping back once, I examined my injury. There was almost no blood. Then I looked back at Brent, now holding my knife aloft, ready for the next attack. But it didn’t come. In fact, Brent wasn’t moving at all. Hands shaking, I moved around his body, keeping as much space between him and me that the kitchen would allow. He still didn’t move. Then, as I drew even with his side, I saw it. He had landed on the chef’s knife, which had slid between his ribs. The entire blade had disappeared into his chest, which was now pooling blood beneath him. That solid fear now cranked past what I thought a human could experience. My mind spun. I reached for my cell phone to call 911. Then I realized what was about to happen. If he survived, he would just keep coming after Penny. I’d seen in his face that he would never, ever stop. If he died, and I called it in as the sole survivor and witness, claiming that I’d only broken into his house to intimidate (but not kill) with my knife, it’s possible that the jury would think I was full of shit. The fact that he had already led the cops to my house didn’t make things any better. And if he was going to die anyway, what point was there in calling an ambulance? “Sorry, Brent,” I whispered. “If you’re going to dig your own grave, make sure you’re not standing over a septic tank.” * “The police did interview me, but I just repeated the fact that I didn’t know Brent. They had no proof against me, so his death got filed away as an accident. Everyone in town pretended that he was this amazing guy instead of a complete turd, which is what you’re supposed to do when a turd dies, and we all moved on with our lives.” “That’s it?” Connor asked. “And you expect us to believe your story about magical knives?” Julia added. I leaned back in the chair and looked back and forth between my two children. “You’ll both be starting high school next year, and your friends are going to start dating. The whole point of my story is that the romantic aspect is far more intense than the magical part of it.” “Dad,” Julia sighed, “half of our class has already started dating. We know how dramatic it is. And are you really going to just brush past the part where you killed someone?” “He didn’t kill Brent. Don’t you remember learning about natural selection?” Connor turned from his sister to face me. “So what you’re telling us is that we shouldn’t date anyone at all, because they’re not going to like us back and it’s going to suck?” “Well,” I shrugged, “the sucking part is just something you’re going to have to go through.” “Even though we’re going to be rejected,” he clarified. “Yes.” Connor stared pensively at the ceiling. “Is it really worth it?” I shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. You’re going to chase the feeling, no matter how much it hurts. I’m just trying to get you ready for it.” “This was a really weird talk, Dad,” Julia explained. “I knew it would be. But I did it anyway.” They stared at me in exasperation. “And I’d do it all again,” I explained as Penny walked into the room, her raven hair falling perfectly around her face. She moved behind me and draped her arms around my neck. “Sofie says her parents are weird, but she’s wrong,” Julia explained to her brother. “Her parents are hippies. Ours are just *weird*.” Connor looked from her to Penny and me. “So is that it? Can we go now?” “Sure,” I answered, kissing Penny’s hand and gently rubbing the scar on her thigh. “Sometimes, you don’t know when a story’s going to end [until you get there](https://www.facebook.com/P-F-McGrail-181784199029462/).” [BD](https://www.reddit.com/r/ByfelsDisciple/) [W](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCcn_pa1QfNMRzbTuJqXSoRQ) [E](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCrypticCompendium/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16k6tnd/my_crush_asked_to_meet_me_alone_after_school_how/

nosleep

ByfelsDisciple

I know what will happen when the world ends

The end of the world has always and will always be a controversial topic. Some people say it will happen when the sun explodes, some when humans destroy it and some belive in judgment day. My story begins on a dark and quiet night. It was very calm. I was outside in the woods playing my guitar. It was very relaxing, sitting on the forest ground, playing guitar surrounded by nature. I was getting ready to pack up and go back home when I heard a noise. It was a crack of a branch. It wasn't abnormal to hear this but usually it meant a predator so I prepared myself. I grabbed my guitar and held the neck, holding it as a sort of bat. Admittedly I must've looked stupid but either way I knew first hand a guitar to the face hurts. There was another crack of a branch. I felt my ankles and feet all of a sudden become very cold. I looked down and saw that the ground had been covered in a thick mist so thick that I couldn't see my ankles. I looked back up. I couldn't see anything so I turned around. I dropped my guitar in shock. Stood infront of me was a dark creature that stood about a head taller than me. It had dark antlers that stood up multiple feet above the thing, it had 6 pale grey eyes that stared deep unto me. It's face looked like one of those skulls that you see on western films in the desert just without the horns. It was clothed with a black cloak that reached the ground. It took a step over towards me. It looked down at me and nodded it's head. Inside my head I heard a voice. "Hello, human. I have come to your plain of existence to warn your race of its eventual demise and the end of your existence. I am what is known as an estrian and I roam earth but in another plain of existence. My race has advanced way beyond yours but because of your races actions during your existence the shayk race will destroy yours soon. However, due to how your race has been built up and developed, your race could fend of the skayk if warned previously. That is my job." I stood there in shock. Who was this thing? Why did it want to warn me? What is the estrians? What is the shayk? I was then transported. I felt myself floating through the air as I saw visions. I saw bodies of humans who's faces had been ripped off lined in huge rows that spanned miles. I saw buildings being destroyed. I saw airplanes fall down back to earth. I saw a man have his throat ripped out. I saw a woman have their legs torn off. I saw a person have their eyeballs torn out. I felt myself start to cry. I saw a boat sink whilst people scremed for help aboard. I saw houses on fire, people running through streets screaming. Just as quick as it started, it stopped. I felt myself fall back to the ground as I fell to my knees. I started to break down, what had I seen? Was that what awaited humans? I stayed there and sobbed for a while. I looked back up at the thing that had told me. It looked back at me with those pale black eyes. I heard another voice in my head. "Spread the word, before it is too late. I must leave now. Good luck."

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16kllni/i_know_what_will_happen_when_the_world_ends/

nosleep

DaReal-Babutunde

The Nightmare

My name is Zoe. Have you ever had a dream that felt so real that it was unnerving? If so, have you ever had it come true? I hadn't until one fateful night. This started when I was still a sophomore. I lived in a very small town so it wasn't uncommon for a random person to stop you on the street for some reason. I had woken up for school rather early from a nightmare I had that night. Now, normally, the nightmares I have are random and make no sense, but this one was different. This one was down right terrifying. It started when me and my friends, Kai and Sage, stopped at our local coffee shop before we headed to school. It was a brisk autumn morning when, as we were leaving with our coffee in hand, this creepy old man stopped us and asked us for directions to the "cabin in the woods." We said we didn't know of any cabin in the woods, he then smiled and said "You will soon" then I woke up. Sweat pouring down my face, borderline hyperventilating. Checking the time; it was 3:00 am, I should have gone back to sleep but I couldn't. Not after a dream like that. At school that day, I couldn't even look my friends in the eyes without almost cowering in fear. A couple of weeks went by and I had forgotten about the dream completely, that is, until my friends and I were at that coffee shop. As we walk in, we notice that we are the only ones there. We think nothing of it as it is six in the morning. We go up, order as normal, and as we are about to leave, Sage says "I feel funny." before collapsing on the floor. I scream for somebody to help but the realization comes that we are no longer in the coffee shop. I hear a loud bang, then Kai falls to his knees, screaming out in pain. I look down at him and see blood trickling down the side of his face, his normally bright blue eyes have gone navy with pain. As I am watching him, I feel a sharp poke in my arm, then stinging, burning. It felt like my skin was on fire. I knew I was going to pass out, but just before I did, I heard a sinister cackle from in front of me. As I look up, I see the old man from my nightmare staring right back down at me. Then the world fades away... I wake up to the sound of screaming, looking around me all I see is darkness. There is a very faint light coming from a window on the other side of the room. I try to get up and run, but as I come to find out, I am tied to a wall. I yell my friends names before breaking down crying, screaming in pure agony. The old man comes up to me saying that there is no use in screaming because no one will hear me. My breath hitches and I can feel the lump in the back of my throat as I ask him "What do you want with us..?" he says in return "To be a family" I nod as my mind starts racing trying to think of a way out of this. I ask where my friends are and his face drops down to mine, and he whispers. "Those weak little fools couldn't handle being in my family." I swallow hard so I don't cry again. He unties me from the wall, warning me not to try to run. We walk to the dining room where he sits me down in a chair, tying me to it. He then goes behind me putting an old tee shirt over the chest area of my dress, then puts a bottle of what I thought was milk up to my lips before saying, "Drink up Anya It's dinner time." I do as I am told, gagging slightly as I swallow the rotten tasting, jelly feeling liquid. When the bottle is empty my stomach feels like it is being eaten from the inside out. He turned around to grab something as as he did, I threw up the contents of my stomach all down his back and onto the floor behind him. For years, I dealt with him tying me up and feeding me these horrible things. Even though, I wanted to give up, I still had hope that I would get away from this sick bastard. After what felt like decades he finally trusted me enough to drive him to the nearby store for his medicine. My mind is racing, my knees are weak, my palms clammy with sweat as I death grip the steering wheel. As we are driving, I see a police officer - a state trooper and without thinking I speed up and crash into a nearby phone pole. The old man gets flung out of the windshield as our truck flips a few times. I must have hit my head really hard because I woke up in the hospital with cops and nurses all around me. As I tell them what has been my life for the past few years, I feel myself start to cry. I must have cried for hours because it was dark by the time I stopped. They called my parents and after two months in the hospital I finally got released. This was 3 years ago on this very day. I found out soon after going home that the old man had been pronounced dead.. I wish that he would have lived the rest of his life behind bars but, I'll never have to see his face again and that alone satisfies me enough. I still think back on it and how lucky I was and still am to be alive. Folks, always be cautious with who tries to engage you. You never know who or what that person will take from you.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16klsce/the_nightmare/

nosleep

BetterAsheThanDust

My sister sent me a bunch of weird texts. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.

**I woke up this morning to several texts from my older sister. We argued a couple months ago, and hadn’t spoken since. Here’s the transcript of the messages :** I’m not sure if this message will go through, but I need to try. Even if you never read this I have to keep busy, I have to stare at something that isn’t the woods or the road or the fields, I need to keep my eyes down until They come. Maybe They won’t see me you know, maybe They’re like the t-rex in Jurassic Park and They won’t see me if I don’t move. I have to try, I have to hope, even if it seems pointless. *sent at 23:35* I’m sorry I said the divorce was your fault Becky. I see now that it wasn’t. You had no choice did you? Just like I don’t have a choice now. I’m sorry Becky. I wish our childhood was better. I wish I was better, a better sister, a better daughter, a better friend. I wish I’d fucking believed you when you told me about Them. When you came up to me all scared and distraught and said you’d seen something in the garden. When you woke up crying at night and refused to go back to sleep until the whole family was accounted for. I’m sorry I dismissed you, made fun of you, snapped at you. I never told you, did I? How I used to tell my friends about your “night terrors” and laugh. How frustrated I was that you were hogging all of our parents’ attention while I was sneaking out smoking and drinking and they never gave a fuck. I’m sorry Becky. I was never the big sister you deserved. I sbdhvjdvfdl; *sent at 23:45* Fuck *sent at 23:46* Sorry about that. I heard some rustling in the woods behind me and got spooked. Bit too late for that but apparently I still can’t help it. Guess it was just the wind, but we both know it may well not be. There’s no way to know. In case They get me Becky and in case these messages go through I should tell you, I’m sitting by the side of the road, you know the one. Facing towards the fields, my back to the woods. It’s funny, isn’t it? I was always more scared of the woods than the fields. You were the opposite. I didn’t change much I guess. Returned to our old house and still more afraid to look between the trees than towards the hills. So much for confronting old childhood trauma. But yeah, when They get me, if you ever want to find my body, that’s a starting point. I’m too tired to keep running Becky. I’m sorry. Not just for being a shitty big sister, but for being so fucking dumb as to come back here. I don’t even know what I wanted to prove. That your nightmares were in fact just that? That I was right all these years and you had an active imagination? I don’t think so, honestly. I think, I really think I knew exactly what I’d find when I’d come back. I wanted to see Them. I wanted to find Them. And I wanted to die. *sent at 23:56* Yeah that was fucking dramatic, and it would have been some great timing if They’d caught me just as I sent that, but They still haven’t, and I’m still too scared to look up from the phone so I’ll keep rambling here. Some part of me wishes for you to get those texts, but I do hope you never do. I can pour my heart out and clear my conscience or whatever, and you can still live your life peacefully without knowing for sure that They were real. It was selfish of me to come back Becky. I acknowledge that. But as I’ve already established the worst track record possible for being a good older sister, I don’t think you’ll be surprised. Just so you know, I was never jealous of you. I’ve always been happy for you, your successes, your great relationship with Mark. But the bitterness built up over the years. You were the crazy one as a child, but now you’ve accomplished way more with your life than I have, and I’m seven years older. If a stranger was to guess who spent time in a psychiatric facility as a child just looking at our adult selves, they would not hesitate to pick me. So yeah, Becky. I’m happy for you, I’m fucking proud of you, I truly am, but I am also resentful. Mostly against myself you know. For fucking up. For being as fine as I could be given the circumstances as a child and waiting until now to have my life fall apart. I didn’t even tell you Steph left me. I didn’t even tell you I lost our child. I was too ashamed to do so, but that doesn’t fucking matter now does it? Because you were right, all those years you were right, and I had to wait until I was 35 to finally make sure you weren’t crazy. I failed you just like I failed everyone else, and I’m sorry. I am trying to make it right though. I don’t know if guns can hurt them, but I will try. I’ve got holy water with me as well, which is ironic I know, and stones and herbs a witchy friend prepared for me. I won’t go down without a fight, without making those bastards pay for taking away your childhood and destroying our family. *sent at 00:10* Well, I pressed send as I heard footsteps behind me, but of course there was no one there when I found the courage to turn around. It’s like I’m waiting at the bus stop, and the bus is running late, and I end up waiting for so long I figure I could have walked home in the meantime, but at the same time the bus is bound to arrive any second now and why risk walking? I’m rambling, I know. I told you, just need to keep busy until They come. I think my ankle is broken anyway, so I can’t walk, even if the bus never comes. Ha. *sent at 00:14* I’ve spent all night reliving our childhood. My childhood rather, since we’ve had radically different experiences. I keep trying to recall every single mention you made of Them. That time you were insisting our cat was gone and something evil replaced it? And I gave you shit for it, because of course all cats are evil so that was no big deal, Mr Fluffington had just run away and you were still processing the emotional rollercoaster of losing your cat and finding him again? Do you remember that, Becky? When I woke up covered in scratches even though the cat was not allowed in our room, and you freaked out, and I shrugged it off? I saw Mr Fluffington at the house Becky. You were right. Cats don’t live that long, but that wasn’t a cat. I almost didn’t recognise our pet, he was bigger than I was, just massive darkness enveloping the garden, two white dots serving as eyes but no light reflected in them, teeth - massive, long, sharp, too many of them, dragging into the dirt, seemingly going in all directions, he was nothing but darkness and teeth and those fucking eyes - but when I started backing out towards the gate, you know what the fucker did? It meowed, Becky, it fucking meowed, and I knew in that moment that you were right two decades ago, that wasn’t our cat, that was something dark, evil, ancient, and it was feeling playful. It meowed, and it grinned, and I thought I was going to die right there and then, but I found the gate and that’s when I started running towards the road, until I tripped - you’d laugh if you’d seen me, I slipped on my own puke, from when I first saw the house again, I’d forgotten about it by the time I fled the garden, and I slipped, and fell, and I heard the bone snap, so I hopped towards the side of the road to sit on the stone where we used to watch the sunset, because that made me feel like you were with me and I couldn’t bear to be alone. That’s why I’m typing on my phone right now, typing those rambling messages. I miss you Becky, and I love you. I’m so sorry. *sent at 00:25* They found me. I’m going home. I love you. *sent at 00:28* **To say my blood ran cold is an understatement. Years of repressed memories flooded back, memories of that cursed house I vowed never to set foot in again, memories of my parents' exhausted faces as they left me with the doctors, memories of my sister's tears when I returned to a broken family, memories of Them.** **I did my best to get dressed and immediately go to the station. I am now on the train to our childhood town, fighting back tears, trying to get my thoughts in order. I am severely unprepared for what’s to come, for what I will find back at the old house, but it doesn’t matter.** **My sister went home, and I need to get her back if I still can.**

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16jztvk/my_sister_sent_me_a_bunch_of_weird_texts_i_dont/

nosleep

NemesisLuce

The hallucinate syndrome experiment.

Flipping through the pages, I felt a chill creep up my spine. The notebook contained a detailed account of a horrific experiment conducted in 1978. It spoke of trapping individuals in isolated rooms, exposing them to hallucinogenic gas, and paying them $100 for every hour they endured. The experiment was known as 'The Halluse Syndrome', and the experimenters were Leo, Mark, Alex and Jonathan - all scientists with a dark fascination." and i will now explain in detail excatly whats written in the notebook” :log 1: "Before we started the experiment, Alex got over his nerves. He wanted me to rethink. He thought it was a ”harmfull” experience. But i just told him: "You're just weak. Go do something useful. Or I'll put you in there with them!" :log 2: "And then it began." The experiment unfolded as Leo described in excruciating detail. The rooms were quiet, pitch black and without sound. Scientists delivered food and water without a word and maintained an eerie silence. Participants had the option to quit, but as the text in the notebook explained: "NONE has made it through 5 days..." :log 3: HOUR 1: The first hour in the dark, isolated chambers was a disorienting descent into sensory deprivation. The participants groped in the pitch-black gloom, hands trembling as they searched for some semblance of familiarity. The absence of light played tricks on their minds, and some began to report subtle, disturbing distortions in their perception. A few saw fleeting shadows lurking at the edge of their vision, and strange, ethereal whispers seemed to flicker through the air like distant radio transmissions. They had entered the realm of the unknown, a place where reality and hallucination blur into a confusing haze. :log 4: HOUR 5: The fifth hour marked a turning point, where the boundaries between reality and hallucination became increasingly porous. Whispers, faint but persistent, insinuated themselves into the minds of the participants. These disembodied voices were like echoes of forgotten memories, beckoning, persuading and sometimes begging them to abandon their torment. It was as if the very air around them was permeated with a spectral chorus of voices, each pleading for release. Still, despite the growing anxiety, 47 individuals remained steadfast in their resolve, determined to endure whatever this experiment had in store. :log 5: DAY 2: As the second day dawned, the situation took a nightmarish turn. At precisely 10 o'clock in the morning, the chambers rang with agonizing screams that pierced the oppressive silence. The participants described the source of their torment as an ominous voice, one that seemed to emanate from the very walls of their enclosure. It pleaded for flight, its tone shifting from desperation to menace as it warned of impending terror. This voice was relentless, unrelenting in its torment, leaving the participants breathless. Only 30 individuals persevered through this harrowing day, their minds frayed at the edges. :log 6: DAY 3: Gray, grotesque creatures materialized in the inky darkness of the chambers on the third day. These twisted apparitions taunted and tormented the participants, their ominous laughter echoing like an ominous symphony. The voice that had tormented them since the beginning grew more terrifying, its utterances filled with dire threats that made them shudder. Shadows danced on the periphery of their vision, and some swore they could feel icy, sticky fingers brushing against their skin. Participants were locked in a macabre dance with their own fears, with only 15 souls enduring this day of relentless psychological onslaught. :log 7: DAY 4: On the fourth day, physical torment joined the psychological horrors. Deep cuts appeared on the participants' bodies, mysterious wounds that defied explanation. These injuries required surgery upon release, a grim testament to the disturbing nature of their ordeal. The gray monsters, once mere apparitions, now manifested with terrifying clarity. They seemed to derive sadistic pleasure from feasting in the arms of the hapless victims. The Voice's promises of impending doom hung in the air like a malevolent mist, and only 5 participants endured the relentless torment, their minds teetering on the brink of madness. :log 8: DAY 5: The fifth and final day was a descent into a nightmarish abyss. Hundreds of gray monsters, grotesque and insatiable, swarmed the remaining three participants. These creatures pulled them towards a yawning abyss that defied comprehension, their eyes glittering with malice. The voice, now more deafening and tormenting than ever, filled every corner of their minds and drowned out rational thought. The participants were thrown into a living nightmare, a maelstrom of terror, pain and hallucinations from which there seemed no escape. The abyss beckoned, and the participants teetered on the precipice of their own sanity, their fates hanging by the thinnest of threads. :log 9: Only 2 of the 3 last people survived. The 2 WHO survived threw themself out. Whitout eyes, arms and lost mutch skin. The last survivor died just a minute later. And exactly no one knows why he even stayed there for this long. But i guess that no one will ever know. I killed Alex, mark and Jonathan after that. I know that the grey creature or whatever it was, Are proud over me. I will put on the gas and get in the chaimber myself. NOTE THIS! Me leo. Im not crazy. Im just really willingly doing what humanity wants! And the humanity wants progression! ”end off log” thats in detail everything thats been written in the notebook. I continued to read this harrowing account, my heart sank and my mind struggled to comprehend the depth of human suffering described in the notebook. The last pages of the notebook were blank, leaving the ultimate fate of the unfortunate participants shrouded in darkness. I couldn't help but wonder if anyone had survived this horrible experiment or if it had consumed them completely. With a heavy sigh I closed the notebook, its cover creaking softly as if echoing the silent screams of those who had endured 'The Halluse Syndrome'. The laboratory around me remained desolate, a haunting reminder of the horrors that had unfolded within its walls. I knew this ominous tale would stay with me, a terrifying reminder of the darkness that could inhabit the human mind and the depths to which individuals could be pushed in the name of scientific curiosity. As I left the abandoned lab, I couldn't shake the feeling that some secrets were better buried, hidden in the shadows of history, never to be unearthed again

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16kb79y/the_hallucinate_syndrome_experiment/

nosleep

Myrg-gamemaster

I worked as an ice-road trucker in Russia along the “Road of Bones”. This is why I quit [part 2]

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/) ​ ​ After we had told our stories, I drove on in silence for an hour, only the soft patterning of snow against the truck breaking the monotony. I considered putting on some music, then decided against it. Yakov broke the silence after what felt like a very long time. “My grandfather died here, you know,” he said. “The M56. He died building it, sent to the Gulags because one of his neighbors had a grudge against him over a land dispute. His neighbor went to the secret police and told them my grandfather was hoarding food and had said Stalin should be killed. Of course, none of that was true, but during those days, a grudge was good enough to guarantee you a death sentence. “I remember them coming at night, two men in long, black overcoats with bowler hats on their heads, fashionably angled to the left. They barely spoke. My grandfather answered the door, they said a few words, and then he was gone. I was in the kitchen with my grandmother, and by the time I left, I only found an open door and the autumn night outside. I looked around, hoping to see my grandfather just smoking his pipe, or sitting out on the porch. But I never saw him again. “We never got his body back, and I only found out he died because one of his fellow prisoners ended up surviving. He lived in the same town as me, and when he came back after five years in the Gulags, he told me my grandfather would never return. He told me that he had a message for me- that my grandfather loved me, and would always be with me, and that I should be strong. I cried for a long time. “The townsman said my grandfather had collapsed one day while working in the winter, his body unable to deal with the constant sub-zero temperatures and starvation anymore. The guard came over, shot him in the head, and then they kept building the road, throwing dirt and stones over his body. Soon, the townsman said, he was buried under the road, next to a dozen other bodies that had died during work that day. “I think, maybe, that’s why the ghosts called out to me here. I never wanted to work as a driver on this road, but this is the only road leading north to Yakutsk, and I had few job options. Yet knowing I drove over my grandfather’s body every time I drove the truck made me want to… I don’t know, get revenge, or even destroy the road itself. I just don’t know.” He stopped. My heart was racing. I wondered how much he knew about me. Strangely enough, my grandfather had also been in the Gulags, but not as a prisoner. He had guarded them, and likely shot them and tortured them as well, like all of the guards in that Hellish place. I never knew my grandfather, and he died of a heart attack before I was born. And yet, I shared the same last name, and my parents even said I looked just like him, with gray eyes, high cheekbones and thick, wavy black hair. I had a narrow, angular face and a thin, muscular body, the same build as him as well. I was told we could have been twins. I looked in the rearview mirror, seeing my own face- and the face of my grandfather, like another face glimpsed behind a mask. I saw headlights approaching behind us. At first, I thought nothing of it, assuming it just another driver on his way to deliver goods. But they drove far too fast for the conditions. With the snow, the rocks and the unstable nature of the road itself, I felt a sense of unease at the dangerous speed at which the driver approached. I changed the subject quickly, not wanting to talk about my family’s past. “I think we’re being followed,” I said. Yakov spun his head, his eyes widening as he stared at the twin beams behind us. “They’re going far too fast,” he said- and then I saw it. Ahead of us sat a totaled car, a rusted heap of metal without windows. The front driver’s side looked smashed in, as if it had hit a tree or a large stone. The snow had already filled the interior, covering the seats and upholstery, and I barely saw it in time. I immediately started slowing down, knowing that a truck loaded with this much weight would take much longer than a usual car to stop. “Someone rolled this out here,” I said. “I think this is an ambush.” Just saying the words made my breath stop. I quickly tried to calculate our odds. I was grateful that I had Yakov, and that he was armed. I reached under my seat and pulled out my P96 pistol. “Do you have any weapons, Yakov?” By now the headlights had gone from pinpricks to dull, moon-like orbs in the snow, and I was rapidly slowing the truck so I wouldn’t hit the car barricaded across the road, trying to keep moving so I wouldn’t slide off the road. Yakov quickly undid his bulging pack and reached through, looking for something, frowning. Then he smiled, pulling his hand up and showing me a Makarov pistol. “I thought you said you had a Makarov,” I said. “OK, whatever, I don’t care.” I looked closer at it. It was one of the oldest guns I had ever seen, outside of a museum or a collection. The Makarov came to somewhat of a point near the barrel, narrowing in a curve at the end. It had a wooden handgrip, deeply worn by handling over the decades, and the metal had tarnished and turned a dark color. But as a whole, it still looked like a beautiful gun, and an antique, for sure. I wondered whether it actually fired, this gun from maybe seventy or eighty years ago. I hoped, for our sake, that it did. The lights had nearly reached us by now, and I had managed to stop the truck fully about thirty feet away from the barricaded car. It was the farthest away I could manage, under the conditions. I wanted room to back up or turn around, or to accelerate and run over bandits if it came to that. I could probably smash the car out of the way of my truck if it were life-or-death- at least, so I hoped at the time. Looking back now all these years later, I realize how naive I was at that moment. I saw men approaching out of the woods, hooded and covered from head to toe in black. Each had guns. The truck behind us had stopped. I saw a Toyota pickup truck, extremely old and rusted. I saw it had three sets of tires, two in the back- a dually. It looked modified, as many cars in Russia are. Yet with six tires and no load to carry, it could move across the M56 at a speed greater than my own. I certainly couldn’t outrun it unless I shot out one of its tires and slowed them down enough for me to find help. This area was deserted, but there were very small towns of nomads or natives in the region. Four men got out of the pickup truck, each carrying a rifle. We were hopelessly outmatched here. I wondered if we would die. I doubted it, but really, what did I know about bandits? Perhaps our bones would simply join the hundreds of thousands of others who had died here. Perhaps they, too, would become part of the road. “Get out!” the man in front screamed at us. Covered in a ski mask, I could only see his eyes, but they looked bleary and unfocused. His gaze kept flicking from us to the woods, then around the area, then returned back to me. I wondered if these men were all drunk. Very likely. If so, it may be easier to fight them off. I looked over at Yakov, who sat in his seat, trembling slightly, the gun in his hand. He looked at me, and I could see the terror I felt reflected in his eyes. “Should we fight?” he asked desperately. I had no idea. This had never happened before. I had heard stories, but… “Get out, now, or we shoot!” the man screamed at us, breaking my thoughts. “Yes, we must fight,” I said softly, as if the man outside could hear me. “They might kill us. I’m not taking that chance. At least if we fight, we might be able to keep our fates in our hands alone. These men are likely drunk and not very accurate with their guns. We might have the advantage here.” I looked over at the man in front, seeing him raise his gun and aim it at me. I ducked down, and a minute later, a bullet flew through the driver’s side door. The crack of it shattered the otherwise muffled sounds of the blizzard. I felt cold air rush into the car through the hole. I rolled down my window while still ducking down in my seat, praying to God for help. I saw Yakov ducked down as well, shaking like a leaf, his hands trembling badly. I sat up quickly, aiming and firing at the man in front. He stood there, his gun pointed down, talking to the other men. The shot hit him in the chest, and he dropped, screaming. I saw splatters of blood in the pure, white snow around him, little islands of red in an eternally white landscape. Shooting a gun in such a confined space made my ears ring, and for a moment, I could hear nothing. I saw the rest of the men had met in a circle when I shot him, both the ones from the forest and the ones from the pickup truck. It would make it easier to pick them all off, one by one- so I hoped, anyway. I counted seven more men to kill or disable. Yet I hoped that if I killed a few, the rest would flee. They wanted easy targets and quick money, not men with guns who shot back. They all raised their guns to fire into the truck, swearing at us and yelling for us to surrender or die, when a shrill, ear-splitting sound suddenly came out of the forest. They looked away, their guns still pointed at us, their fingers on the triggers. I heard them babbling to each other in panicked, low voices, then they all began to run in unison back towards their pickup truck. They didn’t even give us a backwards glance, or try to grab the body of their fallen comrade. They ran for their lives, as if they had heard that sound before and knew exactly what it was. I had no idea, however. I thought some strange, Siberian animal would come flying out of the woods, some species I had never seen before. But this seemed far better than a group of armed men. “Oh, thank God,” I said, “they’re leaving. Now we just need to push this car out of the road, and we can get the hell out of here.” Yakov nodded, still looking nervous, still holding his gun tightly. “What do you think that was?” he asked. I shrugged, apathetic. “Probably just an animal,” I said. “These people around here, they’re superstitious. They think the bogeyman is…” But at that moment, I saw not a monster, but a child fleeing out of the woods. It was a little Siberian girl, no more than seven or eight, her facial features a mixture of Asian and white, reminding me of the Buryats I had known, an ethnic minority in the region. She had a look of pure and utter terror on her face that told me this was no animal chasing her. I quickly opened my door, running out into the freezing winter. Because this was a Japanese truck, the driver’s side was on the right, making me closer to her than Yakov. “Little girl!” I said. “What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere? You’ll freeze to death! Were you with those men? Are they your family? Did they kidnap you?” She looked shell-shocked, her eyes widening as she saw me. “I was kidnapped, yes,” she said. “But not by any man. Please, sir, get me out of here. My twin sister is still back at the hut. She needs help. That thing is going to eat her!” Then she put her face against my chest and cried, “It was the Baba Yaga! She’s real! Please, I don’t want to be eaten!” I grabbed the hysterical, screaming girl by the hand and began to pull her towards the truck. At first, she hesitated, then she began to run ahead of me, flinging herself into the cab and looking back out with huge, dark eyes, like a gopher peeking out of its hole. That shrill, hateful shrieking from the woods had nearly reached me by this point. I couldn’t make out any words in it. It seemed like just guttural cries of fury and hunger. I began to back up towards the truck, my pistol still raised, refusing to turn my back on anything that sounded like that. And then I saw the silhouette, breaking through the trees. At first, I thought it a polar bear, this looming shadow that snapped solid branches aside like they were twigs. But instead, I saw a woman standing over eight-feet-tall with mottled, gray skin and a wrinkled, gaunt face. One of her eyes looked pure white, as if covered in a cataract. Her other had a strikingly pure blue iris with a deep, large pupil staring out from the middle, roving over the landscape before focusing on me. Her nose stuck out like a beak, sharp and curving, a few inches long. On her neck, I saw a necklace, holding the fingers of children- dozens of them, some rotted to bones, others fresh and still dripping blood. She saw me, looked at the gun and then at my face, and smiled. “You don’t need to die, too, friend,” she said in a sickly, choking voice, a trickle of blood coming from her mouth and rolling down her chin as she spoke. “Give me the girl, and you can leave in peace. What’s mine is mine.” I didn’t even respond, but simply fired, aiming at her chest. She fell back, screaming again, and I turned and ran towards the truck, slamming the door and starting the engine. The pickup truck had gone, and I couldn’t even see its lights in the distance anymore. I started to go forwards, slowly pushing the car aside with my truck. Yet I couldn’t get it to budge more than a few inches as it seemed to sink down into the snow. I tried reversing, but I couldn’t get the momentum on the slippery ice, as the road sloped downwards at an angle towards the right side. I didn’t have enough clearance to try going forwards, either. I was stuck. To make things worse, I looked outside the window- and saw the Baba Yaga was gone. Only a small puddle of black blood marked the spot where she had lain. ​ 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/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16k0p69/i_worked_as_an_iceroad_trucker_in_russia_along/

nosleep

CIAHerpes

If you come across a red Hornflower, it may already be too late (Part 2)

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16jkem4/if_come_across_a_red_hornflower_it_may_already_be/) Finding the door unlocked, we entered quietly. The reception desk was dirty, and the lights were losing their battle with the shadows that danced around the room. “I’ll be right out!” Kate fell back into the door in fright, and I felt my feet leave the ground. Before either of us had recovered enough to respond, a doctor poked his head out from a door in the hall, his pristine white jacket mercifully catching and amplifying the light from above him. “Come on back.” We looked at each other, both uncomfortable as he slid back inside. Kate motioned to go forward, and as we moved toward the room I took a look behind the desk to see if there was anything I could pocket for protection. Aside from the monitors, the desk was completely bare. No papers, pencils, pens or even keyboards. The lights in the clinic’s examination room still struggled against the darkness, but mercifully the room was small enough that they illuminated the walls around us. The doctor put his pen down on top of a file and spun in his chair to look at us. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Kate?” I bristled in surprise, but she turned to me. “He’s our family doctor, I’ve been seeing him since we moved up here.” Kate turned back to the doctor. “I hurt my ankle, Dr. Renier, I need to get a brace or something.” She paused, but spoke again before he could open his mouth. “Have you been outside tonight? What the hell is happening out there?” Dr. Renier cocked his head in confusion. “Slow night at the bar? What do you mean?” “No, doctor, the-“ Kate gestured back toward the wall, looking for words to describe the night. “The town is completely different. It’s messed up, it’s… there’s something wrong out there. Really badly wrong.” The doctor scrunched his face, looking both confused and amused while Kate sighed in frustration. I interjected. “Doctor, the snow is red. None of the lights work, or they aren’t working well enough. Even in here-“ I gestured up at his submissive light fixture, “it’s all dark. The librarian is unresponsive and my uncle just went completely ballistic and chased me out of his house, threatening to kill me.” I figured it safest to leave the giant spiders out of the story until I’d established my credibility. “Well if Matt chased you out of the house that’s between you and him. What's that about Arnie at the library though, what do you mean he’s unresponsive?” “No, he’s fine as far as it goes, but he doesn’t understand what’s going on around him at all.” The doctor shrugged. “Well one thing at a time. I need to draw a little blood first, and then we can see about your ankle.” Kate and I looked at each other first in frustration, then in relief. A moment later the relief became confused alarm. “What do you need blood for? It’s just my ankle that’s hurt.” Dr. Renier put his hands up disarmingly. “You didn’t have a blood draw with your last physical, and I need to run labs. You’d be surprised at the things we catch in bloodwork, even in young adults. Prevention is always better than treatment.” Kate shook her head. “Thank you, but I would really rather just get my ankle treated. I can come back for labs another time.” Dr. Renier flashed a frustrated glance at her, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. “I understand, please make sure you do. I can only do half the job keeping you healthy on the outside, and a little poke never hurt anyone.” The doctor reached down to Kate’s ankle, probing at it through her jeans. She winced painfully as he prodded at the swollen joint. “It’s definitely sprained badly, possibly broken. What have you been up to?” He asked, an odd smile playing at his mouth. “I tripped at the bottom of the stairs.” Kate said with a rehearsed quickness. Dr. Renier nodded. “You’ll want to get it X-rayed when you can. Until then we’ll bandage and splint it, give me just a second to grab what we need and I can fix you up.” He stood slowly and looked at Kate, then at me. “I can help with anything.” His voice was soft, enunciating each word carefully and slowly. The comment seemed half directed at us, and half to himself. With that, he shuffled past me and across the hall, closing the door behind him. I glanced at Kate, who was already looking at me nervously. She shook her head behind her, mouthing “quickly”, and I quietly opened the door. A weak light stretched painfully thin under the closed door as I heard Renier rummaging through supplies. I turned my head, seeing two unlit rooms further in the murky hall, and silently stepped toward one. Opening the first door, I could barely make out a figure lying back on the examination table. I stifled my surprise with a short, heavy breath, and quietly fumbling for the light I turned it on. In front of me was Sean, his eyes rolled back and sunken into his cold, blue face. An incision right above his collar bone told a horrible story: he had been completely drained of blood. His skin was shriveled like dried leather, looking more like a corpse in an exhibit than anything that had ever been alive. His mouth was cracked open, revealing a swollen tongue beginning to bulge between his teeth, which themselves were hard to discern from his whitened blue gums. His arms had contorted painfully in toward his chest, giving the impression of an agonized hug, one last attempt at comfort as his life left his tormented body. The room around him was spotless - he had been drained carefully elsewhere, and while he was still alive to see and feel it. There was a noise as the door to my left opened and quickly closed, and instinctively I backed away from the corpse and into the hall. Dr. Renier looked at me, and I looked back at him. Out of his grasp a long, thick, dagger like needle reached out for a body to puncture as his eyes met mine with annoyance. “You murdered Sean?” Even with adrenaline flooding I was still overwhelmed, throwing the words out of my chest more than speaking them. “Murdered? I’m a doctor.” His voice was cold and expressionless, stating his words as if reading them from a chart. Kate screamed from her room, having just caught sight of the needle. I said a million things in my mind, but Kate told me later she only heard a scream from me as I ran and tackled Renier. I reached for his hand, but felt the his needle pierce my stomach. I winced in pain as I felt it drive deep enough into my gut to jab the inside of my lower back. Screaming even louder I drew it out, overpowering him with my two hands as I pinned his arm to the ground. “Kate, get the damn bandage and let’s get out!” Kate hobbled across the hall behind us, knocking supplies off the shelves in her panic. My body and mind both screamed to escape, my eyes constantly darting to the door to will us out. I grabbed the needle and ripped it from the doctor’s hand. I held it over my head, anger and fear exploding in my chest. "Burn in Hell!" Kate limped as quickly as she could out of the supply room, bandages in hand. “Let’s get out of here now!” I brought the needle into the doctor’s chest, the full force of my weight behind it. He grunted in surprise, then let out a screechy laugh. “You think you’re going to kill me? You think I’m going to die here, in my own clinic?” Then his eyes shifted past me and he shouted, “Feeling better yet?” I began to shout as I raised my hand for another strike, only to hear scuttling behind me. I spun around just as Sean - or what was left or him- let out a moan, a cry and a shout all at once, pouncing on me. The body was lighter than I expected as he tackled me off of Renier. He wheezed as his cracked fingernails dug into the sides of my neck with surprising force, beginning to gouge and slash. I felt my skin tear and bleed, but my free hand was occupied pushing his face away to keep his gnashing teeth away from my throat. The doctor started to get up behind him, before grabbing his chest and slumping back down, still painfully snorting in laughter. With all my thoughts bent toward escape, I strained my arm to push him further away, stabbing into Sean’s torso with my weapon. Kate screamed as she swung a chair over top of me, crashing into Sean’s head and slamming it into the wall. I closed my eyes as she wound for another swing, connecting before the shriveled abomination had a chance to recover. Her second swing was hard enough to phase him and as it made a forceful, meaty connection he slumped down limp over my hip, twitching and jolting. My feet nearly slipped from under me as I scrambled from underneath him, and Kate and I sprinted out of the clinic, nearly tripping on the weedy obstructions that scaled the front of the doors. Unlike my escape from the house, we didn’t stop running until Kate collapsed, holding her ankle with tears streaming down her face near the library. I picked her up and carried her the rest of the way, my body burning from inside with pain and exhaustion. Straining our ears and keeping one set of eyes behind us, thankfully nothing seemed to have followed us out of the clinic, and as we entered the library again we slumped down on the floor. “Welcome to the library, please let me know if I can be of assistance.” I raised my eyes up and rested them on the politely smiling man sitting at his desk. Helpfulness be damned, he was a welcome sight. “Thank you Arnie.” I sighed. He tipped his glasses to me and returned to his book. Kate put her foot up on the table. It was now severely bruised and badly swollen, bulging over the sides of her shoe. I shook my head. “The fact you could walk on that at all is impressive.” I was trying to summon again the feeling of safety we’d had last time we were here. Neither of us could afford to process what we’d just seen, or to feel grief for Sean’s terrible fate. “If walking is the thing getting me compliments you should just put me down now.” She said, tilting her head back and letting out a pained sigh. We exchanged a look and broke out into a laugh. “I think the bar is low right now,” I shot back, “take your pick of walking across the street or swinging a chair.” She gave a chuckle we both knew she didn’t mean. No humor could lighten some burdens. That moment brought the awkward realization that I’d never bandaged a foot before. Kate picked up on my uncomfortable silence, and the look of irritation and disappointment she gave drew another true laugh out of us both. “I’ll be right back. Let’s see if Arnie’s got something.” When asked specifically for a book, Arnie was shockingly lucid. “Of course, why don’t you follow me.” He took me to a nearby shelf and quickly ran a finger across several books. “These will all do, but I’ll bet you but this one,” he said, pointing to the title “Sports Medicine: First Aid for the Field”, “this ought to be the most helpful to you.” I thanked him, brought the book back, and found the chapter on sprains. With careful study and extensive criticism from Kate, I was able to tape her ankle into a passable support. She stood up, and after an initial wince she walked a few steps and gave a shrug and a nod. “I’ll give it a C, but that isn’t bad for the first test.” I gave her a certain gesture with one of my fingers. “On an open book test? You’ve got to give me more credit than that.“ Kate smirked and shook her head. “Careful there Einstein, I’m already grading on a curve.” We sat, doing our best to forget the situation we were in while trying to find a way out. Kate thought we should return to her house, and if we made it there to leave in my car. I was cautious, unsure how safe the roads and sidewalks were, thinking we should wait for daylight before making our break. We glanced back at Arnie, and down at our phones. It was 2:45 in the morning, and he was showing no signs of closing for the night. Kate tapped her knuckles on the table, glancing at me and gesturing back to Arnie with her head. Immediately I caught on to her meaning. “Hey Arnie,” I said, returning to his desk, “do you have any books about what’s going on in the town outside right now?” For the first time the old man froze for a second, then looked sideways at me with what seemed to be a knowing smile. Despite what Kate and I had seen in town, he still seemed to be harmless. “I do, but it’s on hold for someone.” He paused, looking me in the eyes and holding his smile. “I suppose I can let you read it though, I doubt they’ll be coming in this late.” He reached under his desk and handed me a book. I read the title and frowned. “Sorry Arnie, but I was wondering if you had books about what’s happening in the town. I don’t know if you meant to give me the ‘Amateur Botanist’s Encyclopedia’, but-“ Arnie tapped the cover, looking over his glasses at me with a slow nod. “You never know where a good book can take you, young man.” As I set the book back down on the table with Kate, I immediately noticed something folded between the pages. Opening it, we found a small note hidden inside. Before I could begin to read it Kate called my name quietly and pointed to the page. The Latin name was gibberish to me, but the colloquial name rang out like a printed gunshot; it was the Hornflower. The picture featured a bright white flower otherwise identical to the one we’d consumed earlier. I looked at Kate, whose face was a collage of confusion, fear and regret. “We’re going to figure this out Kate.” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. For the first time, she stared blankly back, unable to respond. The note was hand written, a strange mixture of occultism and science. I can’t remember word for word what it said, but will try to come as close to the original phrasing as I can. “Hornflowers are known to cause delirium if overingested, but it seems that the state of delirium is actually a window into another pocket of reality rather than a twisting of our existing physical perceptions. The flowers are plentiful in the woods, and should be easy to find. Once you find a Hornflower, carefully pull and pot it. Make sure the root structure stays intact, as this is key to your own rooting. Once you have potted the flower properly, you must water it with as much of your own blood as you are safely able to. Over a short span of time this will begin to cause the petals to change color, and you will imprint upon it. Once the color is sufficiently changed, go back and re-plant the flower. If it does not survive the replanting you will be unsuccessful, so take care. After replanting, harvest a single seed from your flower and bring it to the Room. Once there we will plant the seeds, and will finish the process in person.” Kate and I looked at each other, processing what we’d read. We were past the point of skepticism, but couldn’t begin to understand what the “process” was intended to do. More frighteningly, it contained no details on what to do once we were trapped in whatever reality this was. We sat in confused silence, which turned to fear, then despair. “Are we stuck here?” Kate finally asked, her voice quiet and even. “I don’t know.” I racked my brain to think of any possible escape. Suddenly a noise like a door locking cut through the silence. Our eyes bolted to one another’s, then we jumped up and moved toward the door as quickly as we could. Arnie was still seated calmly at his desk, but as we grabbed the door handles they came off in our hands, the doors not moving an inch. I threw myself into the door, but it felt like a concrete wall. In a panic, my eyes looked around and fixed on a window, the red snow was coming down heavier now, looking like a ruby haze across the street. I grabbed a chair and swung it at the window, damaging neither. Pounding my hand on it and feeling no more give in it than the door had I spun to Arnie. “What the hell are you doing? What did we do to you Arnie?” Arnie met my panicked shout with the same tone of voice he’d kept the whole night. “If you’d like help finding a book, I’m happy to give it. Just let me know what you’re looking for.“ In a rage I ran to Arnie, the wound in my stomach flaring alongside my anger. I grabbed him, but wasn’t able to move him any more than I could’ve moved a statue. Fear began to overwhelm my anger, and I dropped my hands and my head. Through the tears that were beginning to well up in my eyes, I noticed a picture on Arnie’s desk, settled neatly beside his computer. “Arnie, who is that?” Arnie’s slight smile wavered, then disappeared into a blank expression. Still, he didn’t acknowledge the question. “Who is that with you in the picture Arnie? Do you have grandkids? You love them, right?” Arnie moved his head to look away, but seemed uncomfortable and turned to look at his computer. His eyes looked heavy and sad. “Look Arnie I know you aren’t like the other people here. You love your family. Kate and I love our family. We don’t mean anybody any harm, we just want to go see them again. Please let us out of here Arnie. We won’t bother you if you don’t want us to.” Arnie took a moment, then looked up at my eyes. For the first time his eyes looked clear, and his words were lucid. “Young man I haven’t done anything. You’re the one who has locked the doors. And as long as you’re here they won’t open again. But there is still one way to leave, if that’s what you’d like. In the back there are stairs to the basement, there will be a way out down there.” “What do you mean I did this?” I looked to Kate for clarity, as she shook her head firmly against the thought of the basement. “You’ve trapped yourself in here, young man. But you haven’t locked up the basement. I promise you’ll be safe there.” Arnie reassured us in a paternal voice. “Keep your wits about you. That’s the only way out now. In it you’ll find a tunnel into the town hall, you can find the truth there.” “We don’t want the truth Arnie, we want to get the hell out of town. Can you please just tell us how to do that?” Kate asked forcefully, interjecting into the conversation before I could respond. Arnie shook his head. “There is no ‘out of town’ for us. For you maybe, but I don’t know. If there’s anything you could learn that will help you, it’ll be in the town hall. You will see when you get there.” Kate wanted to argue, but couldn’t seem to find the words. I looked over at her for a long moment, her internal conflict raging. After several tense moments her shoulders relaxed and she shrugged. “Where’s the basement, Arnie?” Arnie stood up and moved from behind his desk. My eyes drying in relief, I took another look at his picture. He was sitting in a dated home on a stair as two toddlers played by his feet. He had a smile on his face that radiated contentment and joy. The closer I looked however, the eerier the picture became. At a glance the twins looked normal, but no matter how hard I looked I couldn’t make out their faces. They were there, but my eyes couldn’t recognize or process any of their features, and the harder I looked, the hazier they got. It reminded me of trying to remember someone’s face that I’d met in a dream. I looked back at Arnie’s radiant smile one more time, before a sharp call commanded my attention. “Come over here young man, it’s time for you to go.” The staircase was ordinary enough that our trust wasn’t immediately broken, so we began our descent. Kate turned back to Arnie. “Thank you, Arnie, for helping us. I’m not going to ask you to come with us if you can’t, but I hope you see your grandkids soon.” Arnie’s face contorted into a sorrowful grimace that broke our hearts. “I have tried, young lady. But I don’t think that I will.“ With that Arnie slowly closed the door behind us. Kate and I shared a look, each wanting to return to him and offer comfort. But the turning of a lock on the other side was soon enough of a response for us, and we slowly continued down. “Be safe.” His muffled voice came through the door behind us. As Arnie had said, among dusty books and boxes there was a heavy iron door, standing in stark contrast to the rest of the basement. I stood for a moment, thinking of something to say that would lighten the mood before we did what we knew we needed to. Kate stepped in first, opening the door with surprisingly little effort, and aggressively offering the darkened hall the same one fingered gesture I’d given her earlier. Neither of us smiling, we moved on. The tunnel was surprisingly short, with another door on the far end. With grim determination, we walked quickly toward it, never allowing our minds to wander further than the next step. When we arrived Kate nodded. “This is about where the town hall would be. Never knew we had a presidential evac tunnel for the mayor though.” “Small town politics are a dangerous game, huh?” I quipped. She shook her head, giving me a side eye. “A town of 400 is an army if you try and close the bar at midnight.” I rolled my eyes, feeling no better about what awaited us. Nor should I have. The room we walked into didn’t belong in any civic building. As the door swung open we were greeted by a pedestal holding a large, marble bowl, its outside smeared with a brown liquid we had no desire to identify. Two large bookcases on the far wall held books unlike any the library had held - everything from holy texts to alchemical writings to unlabeled tomes bound in haphazardly stitched leather. Symbols I’d never seen surrounded the pedestal, carefully drawn on the floor. Frighteningly out of place, an old revolver lay discarded, as if it had simply been dropped and forgotten. The bowl was half full of dirt, and a giant Hornflower stood tall inside, its shade of dark red seeming to glow in the musty, sickly smelling room. Countless roots crept down from the bowl, crawling up through the walls and out of the building through the bricks. The sight of it all burned into my mind like a twisted photograph, until I was jarred out of my stupor by a loud, shrill grating sound from the door’s hinges. My jaw went slack as I turned to Kate, whose color had drained completely. Immediately there was an enraged scream from above us, followed quickly by heavy footsteps. We spun around, only to see that the tunnel behind us was gone, with the iron door protecting only a brick wall. I sprung for the pistol, picking it up as I desperately gestured to Kate. She moved toward me, slowly at first and then came up to a full sprint. We ran up the stairs, barging into the administrative hall. Before we could take the room in around us there was another shriek, and we turned to see a man and a woman standing at the far end of the room. “Oh my God,” Kate rasped. “That’s our mayor and his wife. He’s been dead for years, almost as long as mom has.” The information didn’t have a chance to settle in to fear. The woman stepped slowly and firmly forward, pointing a bony finger at us. “What the hell are you doing here?” Then more quietly and eerily, “People shouldn’t come back up those stairs.” “We want to leave!” I shouted, not sure whether to sound aggressive or to plead with her. “We want to let you do whatever it is you do here, we just want to get out!” The mayor stepped forward. I hadn’t realized how tall he was at a distance, but the man was closer to seven feet tall than six. “You don’t belong here.” His voice groaned, unnaturally deep and yet oddly sickly. “People shouldn’t come back up those stairs.” Even as he echoed his wife’s words, the inflection in his deep voice mirrored hers like a decaying duet. The woman stepped closer to her husband, threading her arm through his elbow. “My husband is going to throw you back down there, and I’m going to pay your respects to the flowers for you!” Her voice started quiet, leading to a crescendo back into an accusatory scream as if we’d desecrated something holy. Kate stepped forward, hobbling much less on her newly bandaged foot. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you worshipping your garden now, with all this shit about your flower?” She pointed at the mayor. “Did the flowers tell you to dig him up? Because no matter how the hell he’s standing here, there is no way that’s your husband!” Her boldness shocked me, until I realized the pistol I had was concealed, our one and only card to play. The woman pulled herself closer to her husband, the deranged smile never leaving her face. “We aren’t meant to be apart. My husband was taken from me too soon, but I found him after all this time, and he found me.” Her voice was steadier, but careened between love and lunacy. “You found him? He died! He died years ago, and no matter what you’re on you can’t bring him back!” Kate’s numbed fear had given way to anger. I thought of her feelings for her mother, and wondered if this woman had shared her insanity with my uncle. “You have no idea what we can do. You’ve never tried to discover it. Love can bring us together, no matter where we are. No truth is unbreakable. No reality! We can exist as beings wherever we truly want to be. But if you haven’t felt that pain yet, we will be happy to help you learn it.” The woman’s last sentence fell off her tongue like dripping poison as she let go of her husband. Her smile contorted again, as the mayor reached behind a chair, producing a hand saw. Kate spun to face me, fear and trust side by side in her eyes. “Shoot them! Put them down and let’s get the hell out of here!” “Grab them! Grab them and bring them downstairs!” “I’ll bring you downstairs!” Their two voices could be no more different, but again the mayor mimicked her inflection like a monstrous parrot. In moments the charging giant was no more than 20 feet from me, and drawing a steady aim I hit him directly in the heart. He shouted and sprawled forward, and we ran toward his wife. She bellowed out in rage, beginning to stomp in our direction. I stopped for a second, drew aim, and pulled the trigger again. As she fell backward, footsteps thundered from behind us. I spun just in time to see the mayor take a powerful swing at Kate, slashing her deep across her back with the jagged teeth of his rusted weapon. She fell forward, screaming in pain, as I roared, pulling the trigger feet from his chest. Three clicks. Four. There had only been two rounds in the revolver. The mayor swung the saw back at me, missing narrowly as I stepped back. “Nothing will ever come between us again!” His wife cackled shrilly from behind us. I stood, stunned. Sobbing in pain, Kate forcefully staggered back to her feet and slapped me on the chest, starting to run. “Move your ass!” I spun, sprinting after her. As we ran I watched, horrified as the back of her jacket showed more and more crimson, her wound leaking badly as she ran for her life. Behind me I heard footsteps lumbering alarmingly nearby. A deep shout made me wince in anticipation, but if the mayor cut me I wasn’t able to feel it. “The exit… up here” Kate said, her voice coming out in agonized, crying gasps. We ran to a bend in the hall, rounding the corner as swiftly as possible. Ahead of us the doors stood, holding out the blood red blizzard enclosing us on all sides. “They’re locked! The doors are locked and you’re not getting out!” The mayors wife cackled from behind us. Kate was beginning to slow, her desperate exertion not enough to hold her pace. “Come the hell on!” I shouted as we closed the distance to our escape. Knowing there was no time to test the doors, I lowered my head, ran ahead of her and vaulted through the window, shattering it as I flew. My face crashed through the surface of the snow and I slid forward on the lawn. I turned just in time to see Kate, trying and failing to hurdle over the window frame, fall awkwardly forward and land in the snow directly under the broken glass. Barely a moment later the mayor, seeming to have grown even larger, crashed into view, seeming for a moment to consider if he could fit through the small opening. Using the last of her strength, Kate crawled from under mayor to the side of the root covered building, shortly before he reached his arm out and slashed at her with the saw. The mayor disappeared for a brief, hopeful moment, but then my heart sank as the door of the town hall shook. I looked up into the dark red sky, wishing hopelessly for an escape. I wished the sky would return to black. Wished the northern lights would cut through the haze. Wished I could have seen even a single normal, white Hornflower. I pictured it as I’d seen in Arnie’s book - a bright, untainted white. As the picture left my mind, my hand brushed something in that dark, crimson snow. As I pulled it out I saw, through the melting red in my hand a clear, white flower. I stared dumbly at it for a moment, then was brought to by the sound of glass falling as the mayor’s wife reached the window. “Kate!” I screamed. She turned her head, her body resting still against the roots coating the outside of the building as her face paled from shock. The white flower shone bright in my hand. She looked over, struggling but unable to move her body. She reached her hand out in feeble desperation as her eyes met mine. Peeling a flower petal off for myself I ran to her, pressing a petal urgently into her palm. She again made a frail effort to come up to her knees, but she could do no more than shake with exertion. The door shattered as the mayor, looking like a human only in shape, stumbled forward, his head snapping to find us instantly. Kate ate the petal whole, then shut her eyes, knowing there was nothing else to be done. I followed her lead, chewing the petal a single time before gulping it down and closing my own eyes, accepting whatever fate I was given. I kept my eyes closed. Long after everything grew quiet. The black was no different than I imagined death would be, and I wasn’t ready to know which darkness I beheld. Eventually I opened my eyes and fell to my knees. The moon shone piercingly bright on the white snow, unopposed in a starry, cloudless sky. I could see Kate’s breath still faintly from her nose in front of me. I looked up, mystified. The town hall was completely gone. In its place was nothing but an undisturbed, snowy lot. Most of the town remained, and as I began screaming for help it didn’t take long for someone to come to my aid. A man helped me bandage Kate’s back as best he could as we scrambled to load her into his car, speeding off to the nearest hospital. The rest of the story is a blur, the days blending together as shock set in. The police came to the hospital and interviewed me. Kate had a bad blood infection, and was on a heavy dose of antibiotics. It took her a full day to regain consciousness, after which she was in and out of lucidity due to her pain meds. In the moments when she knew who and where she was she corroborated my story, saying we were both attacked by the same person. They’re still out looking for a tall, drugged up man in a coat. Neither of us got a good look at his face. The next day I got a ride from a Good Samaritan from the hospital back to my car. Kate’s house was completely gone, without a trace of the home that once stood there. Nobody acknowledged the missing buildings, and I never got out of my car to ask any questions. The clinic, library and a few additional buildings had disappeared alongside the town hall. I sat in my car outside the vacant, snowy lot where Arnie’s library had once been, silently wondering if I even wanted to process any of what I’d been through. These people - Arnie, my Uncle, the Mayor’s wife and who knows who else - did something horrible that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Kate told me that while she hadn’t known Arnie well, Dr. Renier had seen both her mother and they mayor both before and after they’d been sick, and had been unequipped to offer any help. I wondered what depth of hopelessness someone had to fall to before they began to lose themselves like he had. After all, Arnie’s book had been reserved. When I left town that day, I never looked back. Kate and I are still close, and we talk often. As soon as she was discharged she moved in with a friend, and now she has an apartment the city. I told her what I’d seen when I collected my car, and she’d had no desire to look for herself. Eventually she did return to try and find some closure, and called me in tears. The entire town is gone now, not a single building left. Just a flat, open snowy clearing in the middle of the woods. As we talked, we did our best to keep our conversations focused on the good times she’d had there over the past years - the happy memories before that night. After walking the clearing, she sat down in the snow, still giving a small grunt of pain from her wounds. Suddenly, in the middle of a thought, her voice went silent. “You still there?” I asked, as I heard rustling, and Kate’s breathing becoming heavier and heavier. I began to hear her cry. “Kate, what’s happening? Are you okay?” “Just look.” Her voice returned, breaking as she spoke. I pulled my phone from my ear and waited. The moment I was notified of her text I opened it, seeing a single picture. In front of her brown winter boots, still powdered with the bright, white snow her hands had shoveled I saw it. Staring up from the camera against the dead grass stood a dark, vibrant, red Hornflower.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16kei96/if_you_come_across_a_red_hornflower_it_may/

nosleep

Dennote

The Travelling Graveyard

I live up in Monroeville, Pennsylvania. For those who don’t know, it’s a historical site when it comes to horror movies; being that it has the mall where they recorded the original Dawn of the Dead back in 1977. The town itself isn’t that different from any other, but the type of people we (occasionally) get passing through can certainly be interesting. There’s the occasional tourist group, horror convention, and several Romero tributes. All I’m saying is that we’re pretty used to seeing weird stuff around here. Not, like, every day, but more often than I’d like to admit. So when I first saw a flier for something called “The Travelling Graveyard”, I didn’t give it a second thought. However, it happened to be taped to a wall just outside of the Indian restaurant where I waited in line for my Friday-night tikka masala, so I gave it a look. It took me a few seconds to even realize what it said. It was such a strange collection of words. Like raspberry shoes, hug missile, or bright black. I had to look closer. Kinda like you did when you clicked this. ​ I took a picture of the flier, got my order, and made it back to my car. I could tell it was gonna rain. I spent some time checking the picture in my car, zooming in on the details I might’ve missed. The flier had a simple vector graphic style picture of a tombstone with an elderly couple standing behind it. They were leaning against one another, smiling, and looking straight forward. At first it looked fine, but once I zoomed in, I noticed little discrepancies. For example, they had too many teeth. I could count several rows of them. Another was that the woman in the picture, who at first looked like she was leaning on her husband, was actually grabbing him by the neck. “The Travelling Graveyard” it said, with “Coming this Friday to Monroeville!” printed in small letters underneath. There was an address, and a bunch of company logos at the bottom. Honestly, I didn’t recognize any of them, but it looked legit; like some kind of sponsored event. I figured it might be a movie premiere, given the town’s history. ​ Lucky for me, the address was on my way home. I could swing by and just catch a glimpse. I hadn’t heard of any big projects being filmed in the area, but sometimes those things can fly under the radar. Then again, it could be a club, or some kind of opening event; there was no way to tell. I sent the picture of the flier to my buddy Henry, who immediately called me up as I pulled out of the parking lot. The guy lives for horror stuff. “What the hell is it?!” he spurted out, not even saying hello. “No idea. Checking it out on my way back.” “I’ll meet you there.” “You don’t have a car.” “I’ll bike.” He hung up before I got the chance to ask him about it. Had no idea he even knew how to ride a bike. ​ I made my way to the address. The road was mostly gravel, leading through a small forest passage just outside of town. Still pretty central; I could see the lights in the distance. I heard something up ahead and noticed that I wasn’t the first car to arrive. And there it was, just around the bend; the travelling graveyard. The place used to be a field for Dog Agility competitions, but I hadn’t seen any arranged for quite some time. Now , it was a graveyard. At least four dozen tombstones, all neatly arranged. A black cast iron fence surrounding the area, and an honest-to-God church waiting at the end of a long dirt path. No haunted house Halloween décor; just an actual graveyard that’d sprung out of seemingly nowhere. Some cars came, others went. When the crowd settled, I counted nine other people who were curious enough to stick around. They’d stepped out of their cars to take pictures and chat. Some thought it was a kind of promotional thing, others were convinced it was a movie set. ​ When Henry finally arrived, he was practically blue in the face. I stood there leaning against the hood of my car, having my tikka masala, and it took him a solid three minutes before he could even talk. When he finally did, he almost threw the bike in a trench. Old thing, nothing short of a miracle that the chain hadn’t rusted shut or broke on the way here. “You’re… you’re driving me back,” he wheezed. I just nodded, my mouth full of chicken-y goodness. I pointed down the road, towards the church. “Hell of a… a set,” Henry grinned. “What you think? Lionsgate? Universal?” “Wh… what?” “The production money, man. Movie magic. This is, uh… big time. Which one you think it is?” I couldn’t answer. Henry seemed convinced already, but I wasn’t so sure. If this was a movie set, why would it have that genuine graveyard smell? The soggy grass, the fresh dirt? You can’t put that on screen. ​ I finished up my Friday dinner and joined Henry inside the gates. There was a couple ahead of us who were the first to go through, and I could tell they had to make an effort to get in. The gate wasn’t just a prop; it was solid iron. Henry just oo’ed and awe’d, not paying too much attention to the details. For example, there were no names on the tombstones. They looked real though. We followed the others inside, walking all the way up to the church. It was a strange building; much smaller than a modern church. I couldn’t imagine it being two pews wide. It was tall though, and had a looming bell tower. I looked up to see if I could spot anyone up there, but it was getting too dark. The gathering rain clouds weren’t helping. Henry elbowed me, pointing at the church. “A little help?” They were pulling the doors open. ​ It took three of us to do it. Good thing we did, as the first drops of rain just started poking at us. We all gathered, expecting some kind of event manager to reward us for our curiosity. Maybe some movie swag or something. But as those doors swung open, there was nothing. Not a soul. Just dusty old pews, badly insulated stained-glass windows, and an empty altar up front. Not a single cross or bible to be found, but plenty of dry and dead moths. The place was either ransacked, or half-finished. Henry seemed to think the latter, while I was leaning more to the former. The peeling paint on the walls wasn’t there just for show; it was old. Probably lead-based, too. “This is some The Nun kind of shit,” Henry whispered reverently. “Holy sh- this might be a, uh… preview screening.” “Henry, I know you like the fucking view up there, but pull your head out of your ass,” I snapped back. “This is not a fucking movie set.” “Like hell it ain’t,” he chuckled. “Look, see? Plastic flowers.” He picked up a flower from under a pew, only to realize that it wasn’t plastic; it was dried. A strange, dry, tinted sunflower. ​ The rain was picking up outside. Some of the others turned around to go back, but most of us stuck around to explore the church. We were already invested, and this trip had to mean something. Pennsylvanians aren’t about to waste their Friday night just because someone decided to drag ‘em out into nowhere. If anything, they’d be leaving with the communion wine and calling it a good one. I wasn’t all too convinced though. Some of it just looked a bit too real. Checking the pews, I could see little scratched-out letters and numbers. There were a lot of years marked, but none of them seemed to date past 1890. There was also a whole slew of names hastily scrawled on the walls, possibly by children, judging by the height and legibility. At least a dozen names. Boys and girls, no surnames. I stepped back out into the rain and called my buddy Luke. Reception was a bit spotty, but the call got through. “Yeah?” he answered, trying to speak through the static. “Hey, can you look something up for me?” “What?” “Look something up for me!” It took me three tries to explain to him that I wanted some info on the Travelling Graveyard event. Maybe we’d seen the wrong date, or there was some kind of misprint. This was clearly the right place, but it didn’t seem like the right time. Luke said he’d look it up and call me right back. ​ I stayed outside for a while, huddling under the roof. I looked down the path leading up to the church to see if the others had already made it out. I figured they had, since I couldn’t see them anywhere. Then again, their cars were still parked outside. And another thing. The gate was closed. We’d left it open. Why would they close it? I had this sinking feeling that I was missing something obvious, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. Like that feeling when you leave home, convinced that you’re forgetting something important. I looked around, letting my eyes drift over the tombstones, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, the rain was making it all harder to see. ​ Henry joined me just as Luke called me back. I kept getting disconnected the moment I pushed to accept the call. It got dropped over and over, three times in quick succession. On the fourth, a weak signal came through. I could barely make out what Luke was saying. There was so much interference that most of it came out sounding like he was stuck in a microwave. A few words pushed through, mostly asking things like “what the fuck” and “what are you talking about”. It didn’t take a genius to get that he had no idea what we were talking about, and that this event was unheard of. I tried yelling the address back at him, if he wanted to check it out himself. I spelled it out over and over, but he just couldn’t hear me. Finally, as the fourth call disconnected, I texted him instead. I was surprised to see that it went through. Henry just sneered at me. “I don’t like that look,” he said. “What’s going on?” “Where did the others go?” I asked, brushing some rain out of my hair. “What? What others?” “They, uh… the guys who left. There was like, four-five of them.” “Oh, they went out back, I think” ​ Henry took me back inside, pointing to one of the stained-glass windows. He was right, I could see a bunch of people walking back and forth between the graves. There was only one problem. There were *seven* of them. Not four, or five. ​ Henry counted them with me, and the other remaining people in the church stepped up alongside us. We could barely make the others out in the rain, but it was clear that there were a few too many. “Maybe more came by,” someone whispered. “Maybe they’re the event people.” “Can’t see more cars,” someone responded. “Where they always there? Did we check?” And finally, as we all quieted down, I heard Henry whisper. “What the fuck are they doing?” ​ That’s what we were all thinking. They were all just standing there, seemingly immobile. They weren’t running for cover or leaving altogether. They just stood there, as if held by some invisible will. Puppets, waiting for their strings to be pulled. Then, from the other side of the room, a whisper. “There are more on this side.” At least eight, possibly more further in. No idea where they came from, or what they were doing. If anything, they looked more like statues than people. For a moment, we all just stood there, trying to imagine what the hell they were trying to do. Finally, the couple who’d stepped in ahead of us chimed in. They were leaving. ​ I was inclined to join them, but something told me it was a bad idea. Besides, Henry wasn’t ready to let me go just yet. If anything, he was getting excited. This all seemed like part of the event to him. Instead, the rest of us gathered at the open doors, watching the two wander into the rain. Only me, Henry, and this 16-year-old looking kid remained indoors. Once they got halfway, they turned to us. And screamed. ​ It was so damn fast. They came from both sides of the building, beelining straight for the two. Sixteen bodies in total, all drenched by the rain. I could make out some vague shapes, like a girl in a white dress, and a tall man with a black suit. They weren’t really… running. It was more of a strange walk, like their entire body was on a swivel. They rolled their spines back and forth, having their necks bobbing back and forth. One of them fell over, smacking his head on an unmarked grave. The couple made a run for the gate, but it was too high to climb. They tried helping one another, one stepping into the other’s hands, but it was too late. Some kind of instinct wanted me to run out there and help them, but I didn’t. I just stood there, waiting to see what would happen. ​ They grabbed the man first. He was still holding up his arms, trying to get his girlfriend over the iron fence. They lifted him off his feet in what looked like the most casual effort, and a second later, they threw him; straight up. Like a balloon taking flight, he accelerated upwards. Past the rain, the clouds, and into the sky. He kept tumbling back and forth, weightless, and desperate. He flailed like a bird with a broken wing, but it was useless. I could hear him screaming as he went higher, and higher, and higher. His panicked screams faded into the rain. ​ They only managed to grab the woman by her foot, but it was enough. It’s as if she was put into a spin; her head and body drifting upwards as she grasped for the fence. It slipped by her fingers as her piercing death-scream cut through my nerves like a hot knife. The higher she went, the more passive the crowd became. They slowed down, and the swivel of their bodies was stiffened into a statuesque back-straightened stance. The three of us just stood there, not knowing what to do. I couldn’t move. I wanted to slam the doors shut, but I didn’t know what would set them off. I didn’t dare to look at Henry, or the kid. I barely managed to force air into my lungs. Henry’s world had shattered. I could hear him muttering “what the fuck” over, and over, and over. He had the look of someone trying to figure something out, but the answer never came. ​ After a few minutes, we moved. We noticed no one came at us. They seemed to have gone back into some kind of inactive state, and nothing seemed to rattle them. At one point, Henry almost laughed. The adrenaline must’ve gotten to him. “It’s fine,” he said. “We got this.” Before I got the chance to say anything, he knocked on the door. Both me and the 16-year-old looked at him like he’d signed our death sentence. My heart leapt out of my chest. But nothing happened. He knocked, and knocked, and they didn’t even turn around. “Get your head straight,” I whispered. “You’re not just… just messing with your fucking life.” Henry just smiled through his teeth, but I could see he was just as scared as I was. Pupils wide, short, shallow breaths. Hell, the 16-year-old was probably the only one of us actually paying real attention. ​ She was short, with black hair. Some kind of pixie cut, and had a nose ring. She kept looking back and forth, both between the two of us, and at the crowd gathering outside. She tapped my shoulder, forcing me to make eye contact. “Help me with this.” We started dragging one of the doors shut, but it was way too heavy. It’d been one thing pulling it open with dry dirt under our feet, but now with the rain it was getting downright difficult. It wasn’t until Henry got out into the rain to push that we made some progress. But the moment he stepped into the rain, they all turned towards us. ​ Like a motor spinning to life, their movements became animated. Every limb a fluid motion, heading our way with complete abandon. They stumbled over one another, over the graves, slipped in the mud, but kept going forward. We both grabbed Henry and pulled him in, and the moment he stepped inside, they stopped moving. All three of us tried to catch our breaths. Henry’s manic smile was still plastered on his face. He’d cracked – hard. “It’s the rain,” said the pixie-cut girl. “It’s… it’s something with the rain.” ​ Using my belt and plenty of patience, we pulled the other door shut. There was no lock, but as long as we kept out of the rain it seemed simple enough. The bodies outside weren’t paying us any attention. The pixie-cut girl kept rambling on about whatever wild theory came to her mind. Aliens coming to take us away. Some kind of rapture. But it all came back to that one point; that it was all connected to the rain. Henry had other ideas. He figured we ought to just stay inside and call for help. Which, in itself, wasn’t a bad idea. It’s just that we couldn’t get any coverage. Looking up, hoping some kind of God would give me a hint, I stumbled upon an idea. “The bell tower,” I said. “We can climb up there.” ​ So we did. We made our way to the second floor. The pixie-cut girl was the lightest of us and had the most expensive phone. We figured that rickety old ladder would hold her. We double and triple-checked it, and it seemed fine, but she was hesitant. Finally, she just shook her head. “You do it,” she said, pointing at me. “I’m not getting up there.” There was no time to argue. I started climbing, one creaky rung at a time. ​ When I finally made it up, I could see all through the graveyard. The rain was pouring down, making the roof of the bell tower creak. In the distance, I could see the edge of the iron fence – but everything outside of that was covered by the rain. There could’ve been a dozen police cars just outside, and I’d have no way of knowing. That’s when my phone started buzzing. Missed calls and messages; all from Luke. “Where are you?!” “Helloooooo?!” “Is this a prank?” “PICK UP!” And finally, a picture. A selfie of Luke, standing in an open, empty, damp field. ​ I didn’t even realize how long I stared at it until I heard a breaking shingle. Drops of water made their way down my spine as a hole opened above. My screen was unresponsive, so I wiped it with my jacket. From downstairs, I could hear Henry’s jeering cackle. “Hey, uh… looks like they’re moving, buddy!” “Hurry the fuck up!” added the pixie-cut girl. There was a strange sound, like very slow woodpeckers. Something hard hitting the side of the building, over, and over again. I dialed 911 as fast as I could, but the damn connect button refused to work. The water was interfering with it. As the call lit up with a green symbol, I saw something peeking over the edge of the roof. ​ She was young, but no child. Eyes hollowed out, leaving empty holes on the inside of her blackened skull. Her mouth wide-open; her lower jaw swinging back and forth. She wasn’t breathing. She wasn’t in pain. And as she dug her slippery fingers into shingle after shingle, making her way up the side of the building, I could tell that there was nothing left of a person in there. All that remained was some kind of instinct-ridden machine, aching to send me on my way. An operator answered, asking me what my emergency was. “I need help,” I wheezed. “They’re… they’re going to…” Looking at her, there was no doubt of her intentions. “…they’re going to fucking *kill me.”* ​ I was so blindly terrified that I didn’t even look behind me. ​ Cold fingers brushed against my jacket. Long, broken fingers reaching my way. A tall man with a suit, his head hanging low. I could see the rainwater pool in the back of his eye sockets, making it look like he never stopped crying as it squelched out with his every move. I recoiled, only to completely lose my balance. I sunk down halfway down the ladder, and fell. ​ I landed really bad, putting all the weight on my ankle. I could feel something snap, followed by a tremendous pulsing pain shooting all the way from my heel up my spine. My phone slipped out of my hands and slid across the floor. Henry just managed to catch it moments before it tumbled down to the first floor. He picked it up, yelling at the operator. “Hello? Hey! Are… is anyone… hello?” There was no response. We could barely get reception down there. In-between my thumping heartbeats, I could hear the pounding fists go quiet above. A steady stream of water from above stained the carpet. Giving in to his intrusive thoughts, Henry chucked my phone all the way across the room, breaking one of the stained-glass windows. ​ In the aftermath, I did my best to support my (probably) broken ankle. We used our socks as a makeshift bandage, trying to it in place. It didn’t help much, but it made it easier to jump on one foot. Still, every movement teased me with a tickle of pain, threatening to send shockwaves throughout my body; tearing all the way up my spine. Finally, the three of us just sat there. I don’t know for how long, maybe an hour. Maybe two. The rain wasn’t letting up. “What the fuck do we do?” I sighed. “We… we can’t do shit.” “We fucking fight them,” nodded Henry. “They’re not that fast.” “Try that again, but without a fucking car for a brain.” “What? We can take ‘em! I told you, we got this!” The pixie-cut girl just shook her head and stayed quiet. She was working on something. ​ We were growing tired and sluggish. If we were to do something, now would be the time. Henry had found some kind of iron rod broken off from the second-floor railing. There was some weight to it, but he’d be insane to actually try to fight them with it. The pixie-cut girl had been staring straight ahead all night, tapping her foot. Then, finally, she spoke out. “I can make that fence,” she said. “You got a car?” “Yeah,” I nodded. “But… you’ll come back for us, right?” “I’ll ram the gate. It’s closed but didn’t seem locked.” Henry shrugged his way into the conversation. “No way you’ll make it,” he said. “They’re too close.” ​ I looked back at the broken window, then back at the pixie-cut girl. “We can draw them over.” ​ We put our plan to work. Henry and I knocked out some more glass from the window, allowing rain to trail in. We could immediately hear movement on the roof as we let the rain soak our skin. We held on, waiting for a clear sign. They started falling off the roof in droves. Thunk after thunk of meat just slapping into the dirt. Not a single gasp, twitch, or grunt. We counted the bodies. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. I prepared to give her the signal. Fourteen. Fifteen. She had pushed the door ajar, and was ready to go. *Sixteen*. ​ She burst into a sprint as we moved away from the window. Henry hurried to the front door, and I followed to the best of my ability. She was gunning for it, but there was a problem. There were far more than sixteen out there. There was at least double. ​ She kept going, weaving past them. As she finally reached the far side of the fence, she leapt up, putting her foot in the middle of the bar, and kicking herself upward. In one swing, she flung her lower body over the fence. “Holy shit,” murmured Henry. “You… you think she’s-“ “She’s okay,” I nodded, as if to convince myself. “She’ll make it.” There was a beep in the distance, followed by an engine roaring to life. Moments later, the gate flung wide open. ​ She drove straight ahead, aiming for the church. At least eight of them toppled over, being flung left and right, smacking against the hood of the car. She’d almost made it halfway there when I heard this strange metallic groan. The car was slowing down. And lifting. ​ It was about two full feet off the ground when it started to wobble. The combined touch of all those things seemed to be able to send anything off – even a car. I saw the pixie-cut girl trying to get her belt off, but the added movement just made the car topple over to the side. As it tipped over to the driver side, I saw her struggle to climb out the passenger seat. The car started to lift again, this time reaching over six feet. Finally, the crowd let go of it, as it started slowly drifting upwards; with the pixie cut girl still in it. She was a full ten feet off the ground when she finally got out. The rotational force flung her out, making her hang from the passenger side door in mid-air. Then, she slipped. ​ We watched her slip into the crowd, screaming. And then, just like those before her, she started to drift into the rain clouds. Dozens of hands sent her on her way, holding their arms high; like a silent wave goodbye. Henry nodded at me. “Alright then,” he said. “I’m going for it.” ​ I didn’t react in time. He bolted out the door, swinging wildly with his iron rod. He connected with one of them; tearing off an ear and a solid chunk of jaw. Still, that did little to stop them. Luckily for Henry, he was fast. Almost fast enough to make it. We just hadn’t counted on the car coming back down. Whatever up there took it didn’t want it. ​ The car came crashing down with a deafening crunch; taking both Henry and two of those things with it as it bellyflopped into the mud. ​ And then there was just me, my screams, and the rain. ​ For hours, I just wandered back and forth on my own. I kept trying to make up a plan in my head, but all I ended up with was this sense of my stomach lifting into the air. That sucking kind of feeling you get when you fall. I had nothing to eat. I sure as hell wasn’t gonna drink the rain. In the end, I was left with only one choice. I had to try. ​ I stepped up to the open doors, steeling myself for what’s to come. I saw the crowd outside, waiting in the rain. They knew there was one left. I did that at least four times. Stepping up, backing down. I couldn’t force myself to die like that. I just couldn’t. Finally, I just collapsed into the front pew, screaming in frustration. Not like that’d move those things anyway. I noticed something under one of the pews. The couple who’d been first inside had forgotten a small bag. ​ Apparently, they’d anticipated bad weather, as there was a folded-up umbrella inside. ​ It wasn’t a good plan, I’ll admit to that. I couldn’t tell how those things worked. But this was the best thing I could come up with, and the greatest chance I had. I unfolded it, carefully, and tried to step outside – just a little. As the first raindrops hit the plastic, I expected explosive movement. Instead, I got nothing. ​ Inch by inch, I made my way outside. I tried my best to put a smooth weight on my foot, but I just ended up jumping. Taking those little jumps in the mud was close to suicide. One slip-up, and that’d be that. I could barely hear my panting breaths over the pouring rain. At one point, I held the umbrella at a bad angle. Some water touched the back of my leg, causing all now 40 something creatures to turn my way in an instant. I stopped, and they did too. Empty skulls all around – hungrily waiting for me to slip up. Little by little, I made my way past them. Some were only a few feet away. ​ I walked past the gate. And I kept walking. ​ I didn’t even notice when the rain stopped, or the sun came back out. I didn’t notice I was back in that Dog Agility field. I barely even reacted to Luke waving me over from the parking lot. ​ Turns out, everything was gone. Not just the people, but our cars, and the graveyard itself. Only thing I could find that showed Henry had ever been there was his rusted-out bike by the side of the road. Maybe the church was never there to begin with; at least not in this world. And yet, it was the realest thing that ever happened to me. They never found the others, or my car, or anything else. Hell, it seemed like pretty much no one had even seen the fliers around town. I tried looking up people who came there and left, but they seem to have no recollection of ever seeing the church. I’ve talked to some of them here on Reddit. ​ I checked the company logos on the flier again, just to try and find some kind of clue. Turns out it was all fake. There were some people who claimed to have seen someone put the fliers up, but all I got was that “she looked young”. I’ve never seen or experienced anything like that night. Nothing. But this is why I always keep an umbrella around.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16jsn7w/the_travelling_graveyard/

nosleep

Saturdead

My nightmarish encounter with the Territorial Guardian; Kapre

Hello, my name is Kent and I was born and raised here in the Philippines.The day before I venture out to the remote area somewhere in the mountain, is that I lost my job by the end of August, 2023 it made a big impact as job opportunities here is so very high but the hiring rate is almost at the lowest, it will take time for me to find another job. As stress and depression leads me to finally plan to hike or camp to escape for awhile my problems, I quickly packed my things that was good for 3 to 5 days. This would be my first time camping/hiking alone as I have already hiked several mountains all across the Philippines with other hikers/mountaineers. This would be my first and probably my last solo camp. **SEPTEMBER 5, 2023 (BETWEEN 6-7AM)** I finally arrived at a near coffee shop a 8 kilometers away from designated camp site before I go set-up my tent. As I finished drinking a good brewed coffee I bought some bread & some tea bags that I could supply during my stay at my own camp. **AROUND 1-3PM** I arrived at my camp ground and right away I set my tent and sorted everything out, I was all alone on that moment, my campsite is set near a falls in which I could have a nice bath in the morning and have a little bit of laundry if needed. I gathered some sticks, woods, stones to set my campfire when the night comes. (During my camp I didn't bring my smartphone because firstly I don't have one I have only my mp3 player & some of my survival kits for camping all along. So I can't tell what exact time it is aside from knowing if it is day time and night time.) **SEPTERMBER 5, 2023 (EVENING)** It was literally a pitch black environment and a peaceful one and I had my dinner done early. My campfire is still blazing to help me warm myself as I read a book to make me go to sleep. *I write these words not as a fiction but as a record of my harrowing experience deep within the heart of a remote mountainous region in the Philippines. This is my first and last solo hike/camp, an account of a night when folklore crossed into chilling reality of mine.* Since childhood, I've heard tales of the Kapre; the enigmatic tree-dwelling giant of the Philippines. My grandparents or surely says Filipino Ancestors claim it lurks in the densest of forests, hidden from the world's prying eyes. As I stayed outside my tent, an unshakable sense of being watched engulfed me. It was a presence that felt neither benign nor indifferent, hiding within the shadows. My heart raced, my senses on high alert. It was the feeling I think of being alone. In the distance, a faint laughter resonated it was so eerie rumbling chuckle that seemed to reverberate through the very trees. I quickly stood up and grab my flashlight and quickened my pace going back to my car, feeling the weight of isolation. The forest seemed to come alive, its ancient trees taking on grotesque forms. And then, I saw it a giant man it was very very tall, I'm 5'4" and telling it's height it was impossibly tall I guess around 12 feet tall I guess half of the height of a palm tree, its emaciated frame melding with the very tree it leaned against. A cigar dangled from its lips, its ember glowing like malevolent eyes. Made me tremble in fear and I can't even made a sudden move, it was like a creature waiting for its prey to make a move before it does its successful hunt. Time seemed to stand still as our gazes met. Panic gripped me as I comprehended the gravity of my intrusion. My survival instincts screamed for me to continue on retreating, but fear froze me in place. The Kapre's laughter grew louder, more menacing. Summoning all my willpower, I managed to break free from the creature's sinister presence and stumbled away further into the unforgiving wilderness. Its eerie laughter pursued me through the thick undergrowth, growing fainter as I distanced myself. Back in safety on my car, I trembled, haunted by the encounter as I drove away back to the City, leaving some of my belongings on my makeshift camp.For my experience and encounter as a word of caution to fellow adventurers who dare to explore or have a relaxing time to the remote reaches of the world please approach the wilderness with utmost caution, for within its depths, ancient terrors may yet to stir. As this is only my testimony, it is a chilling reminder that sometimes, the line between folklore and reality blurs in the most unsettling of ways.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16kcxtm/my_nightmarish_encounter_with_the_territorial/

nosleep

Impressive_Darkness

A Small Burger Restaurant In My Town Is Selling Burgers For TOO Cheap

Hello, I live in a small town in Missouri. Small enough were we know most people here but large enough to get new people and visitors everyday. Some people come here to sight see and others come to camp. You see I live right next to a national park and it's a popular destination around this time of the year due to the cool mountain air and beautiful scenery. In my town everyone knows everyone so were a tight nit community. Well, one of the tourists really liked it here and decided to open a new Burger joint calling it "Sam's Smash Burgers N More". The WHOLE town was talking about it when they showed up. Most people said very positive things and some would say it was strange tasting or they found hair etc. but at the time I assumed that was something all restaurants get. I decided to go there since my friend Treyvon said it was amazing. He kept pushing me and pushing me over and over saying how great it is but the only thing holding me back was the weird things people have been finding in their food. Like rings, hair and a tooth. The owner swears ***it's*** all ***p***laced by the customers in att***e***mpt t***o*** keep ***p***eople out of their town and It sounds too crazy to be true. **L**ike, who loss***e***s a tooth mid cooking a burger? Trey: "C'mon man...You can't seriously think that any of the rumors are true? This guy is sooooo nice and I never found anything in my food and I ate there like 15 times already." My friend said while begging with his hands clasped together. Me: "Ok, ok, ok...fine I'll go but only to shut you up." I said as I lightly punched his arm while I laughing We shared a laugh and headed to the new place. When I pulled up to "Sam's Smash Burgers N More" It was a nice place. The outside has a couple of old picnic tables with shade umbrellas over them and the inside was just a old laundry mat with a walled off kitchen. You can do your laundry and while you wait you can eat some food. Inside the place was a counter where you would put in an order from the menu he has behind the counter. Inside there is 4 booths that can fit a small family. Trey and I walked to the booth and stared at the order. Me, being indecisive opted to let my friend, Trey to go first. He ordered a double cheese burger with house fries and a fried pickle. I was surprised because I didn't know you could fry...a pickle... My confusion was cut short when my friend called my name. Trey: "Yo! Tim. Wake up and order man stop spacing out wierdo." He said while laughing and grabbing my shoulder lightly. I stood there looking at the menu. It was short but some of the things sounded pretty good. "single, double and triple cheese burger, pork steak, house fries, fried pickles, and chili." is what the menu read each being only $2 for any item. Me: "uh, can I get the chili and the fries? Like can you combine the two to make chili fries?" I asked with my stomach rumbling. Owner: "Certainly! It'll be about 30 minutes ok? We make everything fresh and hot" He smiled and spoke with a elated tone. We both nodded and sat down. It didn't take long before we started to smell the food. The smell of grease and frying meat filled the air in the small dive restaurant / laundry mat. It was intoxicating... it instantly brought me back to my past when my dad used to cook for me as a child. Memories flash back of him with a large smile serving me a plate while mom took pictures. He was a proud chef and was always excited to open his own restaurant but never was able too. When his loan from the bank denied he fell into depression and fell deeper into bottles of alcohol. He became abusive and stopped cooking. I still never forgave the man for nearly killing my mother and me in a car wreak. My mother kicked him out of the home and he never spoke to us again. We waited about 45 minutes before a lady about our age came out holding our plates and put them in front of us. The food looked as amazing as it smelled. Filled with freshness and perfect placement on the plate but with some flaws too. It was as if the owner was a career chef. Trey: "You see bro! Don't that shit look good?" He spoke as he lifted his food. The burger he showed had cheese that was perfectly melted and patties that were perfectly smashed and juicy. The bun was buttery and fluffy with just the right amount of onions and lettuce. My chili fries were hot and steaming with a perfect amount of cheese laying over the top. The fries even being inside the chili/cheese concoction were stiff and crunchy on the outside with soft potato on the inside. They were handmade fries as well so they had some special seasoning I couldn't quite put my finger on it. As we ate the food I was surprised on how delicious it was for as cheap as it is. The cascade of flavors and spices were so distracting I almost lost track on how much I've eating and before I knew it the plate was nearly empty. Trey: "Haha, Told you this place is the best in town!" He said with his mouth half full of fries. Me: "Yea no kidding! This place rocks. The way the food was made and plated was immaculate. I would believe if this guy was a Michelin star chef" Trey: "I don't know who Michelin is or why their stars matter but this food is bussin" He spoke with glee and unearned confidence and unironically saying "bussin". I looked at him and smiled. We finished our food and got up to return the plates. When we got to the window we though we heard muffled screams like someone was pleading for help however the sounds of the laundry mat and kitchen were drowning out the noise to a neigh imperceptible level. Me: "Hey bro? Do you hear that? It sounds like someone trying to yell." I asked Trey Trey: "Na I don't hear a thing. I think you're just crazy cause I was right and you're trying to find something wrong with this place" He laughed and snickered a little. I shook the thought off in my head as it sounded way to crazy to be true. Why would anyone risk this. I thought I was going crazy and told my friend lets go. As we left the owner waved us out with a hand covered in blood and a very unnatrual smile that sent shivers down my spine. Owner: "come back later for out mystery meatloaf!" He said loudly with excitement. Last night I was watching the news. "A vacationing family of 3 went missing earlier this week in our little town. Their car was found at the junkyard with nothing but bloodstains inside it. If you have any information please call our helpline" I've been feeling sick ever since that night and I refuse to go back to that restaurant. Am I... Am I crazy or does human meat...taste good...?

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16js9f6/a_small_burger_restaurant_in_my_town_is_selling/

nosleep

CrimsonBayonet

The Reluctant Antichrist

One eye was blue. The other eye was red. Had I finally located the Antichrist? I once belonged to a monastic order whose sole purpose is to find the Antichrist, take possession of him, and relocate him to a hidden mountain monastery in an undisclosed location, of which most of the brothers are ignorant. The goal is to protect the Antichrist, bring him to power, and end the world. Yes, it is a Christian brotherhood, the Order of Bartholomew, holding fast to the tenets of our lord, and not at all in line with the goals of the Devil. Our lord is not Satan, but we do believe the world is beyond saving. Best to end it now and bring on the rejuvenation of existence and the cleansing of sin from the hearts and minds of the human race. We have monasteries in every continent and in most countries, but their appearances are far from traditional. The altar and sacristy are hidden below supermarkets, laundry mats, and many other modes of commercialization. Some are even located in government buildings, depending on the religiosity of the host nation and its willingness to cooperate. There is the popular Bible and then there is the real Bible. The real Bible is composed of many more books, one of which is purported to have been written by the apostle Bartholomew. It is simply called Echthros, the Greek word for hated, or the hostile one. It is a book describing in detail the appearance and specific circumstances of the birth and life of the Antichrist. Whereas Jesus was born of a virgin, the evil one will be born of violence, the cause of his own mother’s death. There are many more details I will not bore you with at this time, but needless to say there is a comprehensive list of significant indicators that a certain candidate must meet to be considered the foretold Antichrist. Our order was established in the year 1313 under the reign of Pope Clement V, not long after the death of Jaque De Molay and the dissolution of the Knights Templars. Legend has it that the pope had dreamed of his own death. The spirit of Jaque De Molay had invaded his sleep and haunted the essence of his soul. He had concluded that the world must end as soon as the Antichrist had made his appearance. In fact, he had even convinced himself that the Antichrist was not a particular person born of fate, but that anyone, with the proper training, could be made and reared to be the chosen instrument of annihilation. In his public life he ruled and led the Church to fight against the forces of evil and preserve the world against destruction. In his private life, he organized and summoned men to find the very force that would end the world. The Echthros was copied and handed out to each monastery. Every monk of the order had memorized it. We have made it our life’s ambition to find the man of perdition, not to destroy him, but to shelter him and hasten the Apocalypse. I myself live in America. My own prejudices had led me to believe that the Antichrist would come from the Middle East, or if I was lucky, from Europe. I wanted to be the one to find him. I am an Italian and I was sorely disappointed to find out that I would be living in America, a land removed from Biblical history. America, in my mind, would have no significant impact in the future. It would dwindle back down to a pioneer nation, ineffective and far removed from the drama to come. I only considered this as logical because I saw nothing in the Bible to make me believe that America had any relevance. My ill-informed perspective was soon challenged by a twelve-year-old boy from Georgia named David Greene. His mom had died during delivery, and David was still-born, or so at least that’s what the doctors thought. They laid the child on a gurney and pronounced him dead. Ten minutes later he drew his first breath, details I myself have memorized from the Echthros: The child would be born dead, revived and possessed by Satan. The boy’s father hated and feared the child, abused and neglected him until the age of twelve, when David decided to end his suffering and stab his father through the neck while his father was sleeping. I went to visit the boy at a maximum-security psychiatric hospital. Middlebrook was an ancient decrepit facility, lacking staff and resources to adequately care for its patients. The paint on the walls were faded and peeling. The lighting was dim, and the air was stale. It was the most depressive hospital I had ever visited. “Father. Welcome.” “I’m not an ordained priest. Just call me Stan,” I explained to the nurse. “Oh, I’m sorry. They said you were from a monastery. I just figured.” “No problem. Where is the boy?” “The doctor would like to talk to you first.” She led me down a long, narrow hall, turned right and went down a flight of stairs. There was only one office and a lobby filled with cheap plastic chairs. “Just go through the doors. She’s expecting you.” I don’t like to barge in on people, so I knocked on the door. “I said just go on in,” the nurse demanded. I carefully entered, hoping not to disturb the doctor. The room was huge and virtually empty. It looked like a classroom had been converted into an office. At the far end of the room was a large wooden desk. A tiny woman with grey hair was pounding on a keyboard, the sound of which echoed throughout the vast space. “Father, come have a seat.” “I’m not a priest.” “Oh, sorry. I guess that makes sense. I don’t see the collar.” “It’s alright.” “Anyway. Welcome to Middlebrook. I hope it was easy to find and you were able to find a good parking spot.” “Yes, yes. No issues here. Thank you.” “Good. Let’s cut to the chase. I don’t like the idea of David having any visitors. It’s not the right time. He’s in a fragile state. What is your concern with him? I’ve never seen any other priest from your order visit this facility.” “He has no godparents or any relatives to look after him. We have a registry of all baptized Catholics in this district. We just want to teach him the faith and help him with anything he needs… and of course, help the hospital as well. I am a psychiatrist myself.” “I don’t think the family was Catholic. At least I’ve never been told that.” Of course, it was a lie. I had no clue which, if any, denomination his family believed in. “Well, he is. Look, I won’t be in your hair long. I doubt he’s receptive to any kind of religion right now anyway, but I at least want to try and to show him that people still care about his well-being. I want to convey to him that redemption is always available no matter what he’s done.” She stopped talking and started looking around the room, I’m sure debating whether to allow me to visit or not. “Follow procedures or you’ll never be allowed in this facility again.” “Thank you. I appreciate this.” “Don’t be shocked by what you see. He won’t let us cut his hair or trim his nails. Oh, and he has some weird condition with his right eye. It looks almost red. Nothing in his files about that. Of course.” After listening to a brief synopsis of the facility rules, I was escorted upstairs to David’s room. The guard pulled off a huge key from his belt and opened the door. I walked in and as soon as I entered the room the door was shut and locked. David was sitting on the bed with his back towards me. His black hair fell down the length of his back. He was wearing the standard white hospital pants and shirt. He reached up with his left hand and started tapping the wall with his long fingernails. “Stan, that’s a weird name for an Italian,” he said, his voice sounding like an elderly man with emphysema. “Have a seat.” A chair on the other side of the room quickly slid to where I was standing. As I sat down the lights went out. I was in complete darkness. I could hear David breathing. Suddenly, the light came back on and David was standing directly in front of me. He looked like a wild animal, with one blue eye, and one red eye. “You see my red eye, as the Echthros predicted. You’ve come looking for the Antichrist, the Devil incarnate?” “Yes,” I timidly answered. The voice unnerved me. I had seen a chair move by itself, and yet, it was the voice that disturbed me more. “Well Stan my boy, I’m no Antichrist.” “But you have all the signs.” “I mean I am the Antichrist, but I just don’t want the gig.” “You have to do it. You don’t have a choice. We can make your transition easier.” “I don’t have to do shit. It is my choice,” he roared. The lights flickered off and on again and this time he was sitting in the corner staring at me. It was a menacing hateful stare. “You see Stan ole boy I’ve read the book. I know the ending. The sooner I initiate the end of the world the sooner I get thrown in a lake of fire. Now, why would I want that?” “It’s your destiny. It’s what God commands you to do, and I want…” I paused. “You want to be the one that found me. You want glory. Pride, hmmm, one of the seven deadlies.” He wagged his finger at me disapprovingly. “That’s conduct unbecoming of a good Catholic monk.” “Guard,” I hollered. I figured I had failed, and it was time for me to go. I located the Antichrist, but maybe a monk better than myself could convince him to fulfill his role. The lights went out again and I felt the chair pulled out from underneath me. I fell to the floor. David jumped on top of my chest. The lights came back on and at that point he swiped down and scratched me across the face. He appeared to have two faces- a beast superimposed on top of an innocent child. “Don’t call that motherfucker in here yet,” he growled. “If you don’t want to do what you’re supposed to do then why keep me here? Let me go.” “Oh, I’m leaving with you.” “What do you mean? They're not going to let you leave.” He laughed. “I’m the fucking Devil. I’ll let myself out. You see Stan, your dumbass order has been summoning me for years, just hoping that one day I’ll finally become the big bad Antichrist they need me to be. Then they can dash on up to Heaven and let me commit genocide for God. You know, kill the shit out of all those unbelievers. But I’ll never do it. I’m happy with what you guys give me- a body and a purpose. I’ve been incarnated throughout the years: Ivan the Terrible, Jack the Ripper, Zodiac Killer. Not Hitler though. That one was all natural. I’ve been lesser-known killers as well. Sometimes I like to keep a low profile. Be a little less infamous, but this time is different. I’m excited to see what David Greene is capable of. Now who do we got to kill to get out of here?” He went over and laid down on the bed. He started kicking and screaming for help. The guards opened the door and three of them flooded into the room. With his fingernails, David slashed the first guard in his neck and pushed his head back, almost decapitating him. The second guard he effortlessly threw against the wall, banging the guard’s head so hard that it broke his neck. The third and final guard tried to run back out of the room, but David tackled him, climbed up his back and bit into his neck. David’s mouth opened up like a snake and he snapped down around the entire length of the guard’s neck. He clamped down like a tiger and choked the life out of the guard. David stood up and smiled an evil bloody grin. He motioned for me to follow him. I hesitated. ​ “Come now, or end up like them,” he said as he pointed to the bodies lying on the floor. ​ We walked through the facility, David killing a nurse and several random employees. The facility doors opened as he approached, and we walked to freedom. In the following years I have become his assistant, his unwilling helper, burying bodies and running errands. It is my penance, what I rightly deserve for what I had attempted to do. An apt punishment for my sin. I have tried to escape several times, but he always manages to catch me. Is that unexpected though? After all, he is the Devil.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16jyuoj/the_reluctant_antichrist/

nosleep

SubstantialBite788

This Haunted Life [Part Two]

​ I woke up feeling good for some reason. The morning light was streaming through the curtains thawing my face. I was thinking of Chazmon and also how nice it was to have a friend like Diego to pal around with. I had totally forgotten about the murder I witnessed the night before at the hands of that ghost, that thing, that.. whatever it was. Why did it spare me? There was a hard knock at the front door and all the details came flooding back. I could hear my mother answer the door and her muddled conversation with a man. I couldn't make out what they were saying but it sounded serious from the tone of their voices. A minute later there was another knock. This time on my bedroom door. "Bobby?" It was mom. "Come out here dear, there's a police detective who needs to talk to you." I got half dressed and threw a robe on and went downstairs to face the music. There's no way I'm telling him the truth. But what then? I plopped down into the recliner in the living room and mom slapped a hot cup of java in my hand as the cop towered in front of me eyeing me head to toe. "You Bobby Freck?", he asked sternly. "I am." "I got word from some other kids that you were at a party last night over at Daniel Newman's house. That right?" He was one of those square jawed guys with a crew cut and a light blue shirt with deep tan suit jacket that didn't hide his shoulder holster. "I was there with my friend Diego. We danced with a couple of girls from school and had some Hawaiian punch. Was it spiked or something? Is that what this is about?" He leaned down and stared me straight in the eyes. "I don't like your tone boy. I'm gonna ask you just once and by God you better tell me straight with no wise cracks. What happened to Jeff Holdson?" I sipped my coffee to buy a few microseconds of time. "The guy helping out the DJ? What do you mean what happened to him? Is he missing or something?" "You know damn well he's missing god damn it! I got two witnesses that saw you leave out the back of the house with him and the next time anybody saw him he was laying a pool of his own blood with his neck twisted almost clean off! I could put you in cuffs right now!" His pale peach face had turned a most exquisite shade of red at this point. "What? Is this some kind of trick? Did Mrs. Calfrey put you up to this? Testing me to see if I got over the anger management issues? She needs cash again?" I was thinking fast. "Who in god's green earth is Mrs. Calfrey son?" My mom piped in to back me up after taking her curled fingers away from her mouth. "That was Bobby's last therapist. She strung us on for an extra nine months before she signed off on his court ordered therapy sessions." "Well that sounds about right to me. Anger management huh? What happened Bob, Jeff making eyes at the girl you like? Couldn't control yourself?" This guy was starting to get on my nerves. I gently set my cup down on the coffee table and calmly looked back at detective red face. "I tell you what detective. I've had a string of social workers, cops, teachers, school administrators, psychiatrists, parents, and classmates projecting their assumptions and personal prejudices onto me for years. And frankly, I no longer care what any of them think of me. I learned a long time ago that people like you are going to think what you want to about me no matter what I say or do or what the truth is. Fact is, I didn't kill Jeff and I only briefly spoke to him one time in my life over the course of a single cigarette. I'm done answering your questions and discussing this matter with you or anyone else so you arrest me for something or get the fuck out of my house." He looked up at my mother in surprise. "Well you heard him Mr. Red. Cuff him or get out." "Wait. His name is actually Red?", I asked amused. He looked back at me with a kind of vulnerable expression. "Yeah, Detective Red." I busted out laughing. "Oh shit. No way! Oh ha ha ha ha!" "What?", he looked back at mom. "What's funny?" "Nothing Mr. Red. Have a nice drive back to the station", she showed him to the door. I actually felt kinda bad for him as I watched him through the window headed to his car. Yeah he was accusing me of a heinous murder which I did not commit, but he was just doing his job trying to 'shake the tree' as they call it. But then something happened that shook me right. He opened the door to his car and paused to look back at the house. His eyes seemed to fix right on mine although I know he couldn't see me through the curtain. But as it did, his face morphed into that same face from the night before. The emaciated, shriveled dead mans face of the ghost that killed poor Jeff. A chill swept my entire body from head to toe. My hands started to mildly tremble. The rising dread inside was interrupted by the sudden slam of my mother's voice. "So what did happen last night Bobby?", she asked quietly. "I didn't kill him mom", I replied. "I know baby. I know you'd never hurt anyone. But maybe... I don't know. You hear stories about withdrawals from some of those meds. Just...". I sighed out loud. "This is exasperating", I stated flatly. "I know. You've been through a lot these past few years but just tell me.... did your visions come back?" I'm not the kind to lie to my mom but she's been through hell as much as me and the last thing she needs is to think that's it's all starting again. "No ma. It's got nothing to do with this. Jeff must have been in with the wrong crowd or something." After breakfast I noticed Diego's car parked on the street in front of my next door neighbor's house. It looked like he was at the wheel. I went out to see what he was doing. As I approached the car he rolled the window down. "Hey Bobby. How you doing?, he started. "A little shaken up to be honest", I said. "I'm not gonna lie, me too. I just got grilled for hour by a cop about Jeff getting killed. They been around to talk to you yet?" "Yeah but we threw him out", I told him. "You kidding me? You threw the police out of your house?", he asked amused. "Well, my mom had my back." "Oh shit! I wish I coulda seen that", Diego laughed. "Anyway, what the fuck did happen to Jeff? You see anything? Anybody suspicious around the house?" I shook my head. "You can tell Detective Red I said no. I didn't see anything or anyone suspicious and next time just ask me yourself." Now it was Diego's face that was getting red. "I'm sorry man. They had me scared like they thought I did it. They said you'd be more likely to talk to me since we're friends." "I know bro. It's ok. This ain't my first rodeo. I expected them to use you. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something while you're here. My mom is making me go to this upscale party at her boss' Mansion tonight. These things are boring as hell but she said I could bring a friend if I wanted. You up for it?" He looked surprised. "Yeah that sounds cool. I never been to anything like that." Diego came back about 6 PM and tried on a few of my older tux's until we found one that fit him. My mom always had to go to these things and so we just splurged and bought appropriate clothes. Her boss sent a limo to pick us up and we both had cokes from the built in fridge on the way there. Just outside the mansion's gate I thought I saw Detective Red's car parked in a neighbor's driveway. The driver dropped us off at the rotunda in front of the main entrance and we walked inside where we were greeted by some hired help who took our coats and showed us the way to the lounge where the guests were mingling. The room was ornate to say the least. Red carpet, plush red cushioned and patent leather chairs, crystal chandeliers glowing above, full bar and wait staff. Mr. Coddard lived in luxury while penny pinching every aspect of his business, especially my mom's salary. "Wow Bob, this place is really something", Diego was impressed. And for good reason. The whole estate was like something out of an old movie. One of those flicks where everyone gathers at a rich old man's castle or mansion and the star has to solve a murder. There was a huge dining room, a banquet hall/ballroom, and a hanging garden out back with fish ponds, bridges, and lots of those little constructed waterfalls that people love. I think mom said the ponds were stocked with Coy. The outside of the manor had vines and ivy crawling up the sides of it's red stone exterior walls - not brick, but stone. The inside was laden with wood and very cozy for a mansion. It had lots of expensive looking rugs on the hardwood floors and a fireplace that you could stand inside. There was a long corridor that led past the kitchen and ended at a large arched wooden door. It was always dimly lit and I heard someone say once that there was a stairway behind it that led to the wine cellar. Diego was marveling at the place when a waiter asked him if he wanted a coke. He tried to get alcohol but the man just sniffled and handed him a coke anyway. After a while things got boring. There was no one there under 21 except the two of us and all the adults did was chit chat while sipping on glasses of wine or liquor. We decided to check out the coy ponds out back. The hanging gardens were set up with hydroponic root systems above the walkways and the vines of the plants fell over the sides and stretched down to the ground on both sides of the walkway forming a kind of plant hallway. These would end just before the walk way reached a small bridge over the canals that connected the ponds. The sound of the water falls was soothing and we both just kind of stared at the fish in silence. "Chazmon would probably love this place", I pointed out. "Yeah, and so would Alexis. That's her friend I was chillin with last night," he responded. "We should have invited them. I guess my mind was on other things," I explained. "Like the electric chair," Diego joked. I chuckled. "Hey I gotta go pee. I'll be back in a few." Diego nodded and I walked back inside. The bathrooms were down the hallway that led to the wine cellar. It was quiet back there and the noisey lounge became a background drone as my footsteps grew louder. I found the men's room and did my thing and came back out into the hall where I noticed the door to the wine cellar was open. I stepped towards it and cocked my head to try to see if anyone was there. I could see some dim light coming up from somewhere down there and then some movement. It wasn't the waiter, instead a small girl about 3 or 4 years of age pushed the door a little more open so I could see her. She looked at me and smiled and then fell backwards right down the stairs. I could hear her body banging on each wooden step as she fell. I was shocked and horrified. I quickly rushed to the door and opened it the rest of the way. Peering down I couldn't see the bottom through the darkness. "She must be there curled up at the foot of the stairs," I thought. I jogged down the steps to see if she was okay. When I arrived at the bottom there was no girl there at all. I felt some warm moisture on the floor with my hand and so I held it up where there was a bit more light to check it out and sure enough it was fresh blood. I called out to her but heard nothing. I slowly scanned the room thinking maybe she crawled away. The room had those traditional wooden racks of wine bottles in rows very much like a library. At the very top of the ceiling were small semicircle windows where the ground ended and the air began. I thought I heard the sound of someone scooting on the floor between two wine racks and so I walked over there. Just then it started raining outside and the sound of the drops hitting those little windows is all I could hear. That and some occasional thunder. I was about to go back and get help when I heard a moan that indeed sounded like it was coming from a child. It was coming from the next room where a muted yellow glow was emanating. Must be a small light. I walked into the room under a stone archway and started to feel like something wasn't right. How could she have survived that tumble and then crawled in here in the amount of time it took me to get down the stairs? It didn't seem plausible. I felt a sense of danger but saw nothing. In the small room were a few wine racks that were about half the height of the others due to the lower ceiling in there. I tried to walk back out when I felt the sensation of a single index fingertip touch my elbow from behind. Ever so slightly as to make me question whether it was real or just some random body itch. It started moving slowly up my arm from my elbow towards my shoulder and as it did I could feel it more solidly until it was clear and obvious that it was a real sensation. Something was actually touching me. I was frozen still. Too afraid to move as if acknowledging it were to make it attack. But it felt like a child's finger so it might be her and she might need help. I had goosebumps all over as the little finger tip was slowly moved up across my shoulder and up the side of my neck pushing the fine hairs there upward against the natural direction the hairs had grown in. I couldn't take another moment and spun around as fast as I could while jumping back about three feet and raising my hands expecting to block something. And no one was there. But protruding from behind a wine rack I saw a finger on the ground. Someone was there; but how did I miss it? The thunder rumbled around the sky outside, shaking the old wooden beams and boards of the dusty cellar as I stepped forward enough to see. Expecting the girl I was confused when I saw the whole body. It was one of the men serving drinks. His neck had been broken and there was blood on the cellar floor. Later that night Detective Red would take samples of the blood on my hands to compare to the victim and grill me again for two hours. This time I made no snarky comments and mom wasn't even in the room. By the time he was done I had come to the realization of what the ghost was doing. It was setting me up. ​ PART ONE: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16hcgls/this\_haunted\_life\_part\_one/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16hcgls/this_haunted_life_part_one/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16k4r9c/this_haunted_life_part_two/

nosleep

jarofgoodness

I work for a massage parlor that caters to the supernatural… My last client had the strangest request to date.

Becoming a masseuse was never on my radar. Especially not one for the supernatural. So, because you’re probably wondering how I even got myself into this predicament, let me explain. When I graduated highschool, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I hopped around between a couple of different jobs. Nine months here, seven there, a year at one and two years at another. And then COVID hit. During that time, I was mostly single. And if any of you folks are single, you know about this *incredibly* annoying, all consuming, indescribably *bothersome* feeling called, “touch deprivation.” Now, I know what you’re thinking… *“Just get a weighted blanket!”* *“Sleep with a body pillow!”* *“Snuggle a dog or a cat or… Some other freaking animal!”* Trust me, I’ve heard it all. But there was one idea that I did consider… Getting a massage. His name was Kaleb, and I swear to you, either I was worse off than I thought, or this man really did have the magic touch. So magical in fact, that it inspired me to become a masseuse myself. When I finished my training, I applied at several places, but one in particular piqued my interest: Supernatural Sensations. I’ll be completely honest with you… I know how that sounds, but the place was legit. And it wasn’t one of those weird places that promises you a happy- Well, I’m not gonna elaborate on that, but you know what I mean! It was honest, good work! When I first started working at Supernatural Sensations, there were five other employees, and I was the sixth. Most of them were seasoned masseuses, so I was a bit intimidated when I came in as the new kid on the block, but they were all really welcoming. Except for Veronica Svetlocinni - my manager. “So, I just wanted to go back over the rules with you. I know I briefly touched on it when you came in for your interview, but…” She paused, sharp eyes meeting mine as she stared down the bridge of her nose at me. “I’m going to be up front with you. When I said we catered to a *special type of clientele*, the 1%, I didn’t mean the elite, or the rich, or anything like what you were probably thinking.” My mouth twisted up and my brows furrowed as I tried to understand what the heck this woman meant. *‘What in the world did I get myself into?’* That was my first thought. My second thought was, *‘just* ***what*** *type of clients am I dealing with, then?’* “Let me elaborate.” Veronica’s red painted finger nails tapped on the desk as she crossed her legs and met my eye again. “Supernatural Sensations is known for its excellent service. We go above and beyond for all of our clients, but there are precautions in place due to our clients being… *Otherworldly*.” My eyes narrowed as I mulled over her words. “You’re not trying to tell me that we actually cater to…” I trailed off, my mouth suddenly feeling a little dry. “Yes.” She steepled her fingers together and nodded. “The supernatural. It’s in our name for a reason.” “I guess I just assumed it was because-” “Assumptions will get you in trouble here.” She leaned across the desk, a Cheshire-like grin stretching across her face, ruby painted lips twitching just the slightest as she laughed. “Trust me when I say, assume nothing.” I gulped, the sound a little too loud in my ears. “So, I’m assuming there’s certain precautions I need to-” “*Remember*,” she hissed through gritted teeth, lips tugged up once again into an incredibly fake smile, “No assumptions here.” I simply nodded and waited for her to continue, her hands quickly passing me a sheet of paper. “Yes, there are a special set of precautions in place for the protection of our employees. There aren’t many, but the ones that are listed on this sheet should be followed *very* closely.” My eyes scanned over the sheet before she began to read over the rules, my knee bouncing wildly, anxiety slowly beginning to flood my system. “First things first, we serve many different types of supernatural clients, but if by any chance, your particular client is of vampiric descent, I strongly suggest that you bring them a nice, warm…” She paused, winking at me. “*Beverage* beforehand. Either Guinevere or Beckham should be able to help you with that.” “And they are?” I asked, my disbelieving mind already whispering the answer into my ears as she answered. She smiled again, the action sort of strange looking on her severe features. Nothing about Veronica was soft. Thick, raven colored hair came to a stop right at her chin, and jet black eyeliner lined her sage green eyes, the wings on the end of them sharp enough to kill. A part of me almost wondered if she, herself, was otherworldly. “They’re our donors.” Her pointer finger drifted to rule number two, barely giving me a chance to come to terms with the first. “Rule number two: When dealing with any type of aquatic creature, I suggest wearing ear plugs. They are to tell me exactly what services they’re interested in prior to their appointment, so there shouldn’t be any need for them to converse with you whatsoever.” When I raised a brow at her statement, she continued, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Kelpies and sirens are known for being quite… Convincing. They’re easy on the ears, voices smooth as silk, but let them worm their way into your mind and you’ll find yourself in quite the predicament.” “And if they do need something or they do anything strange?” I asked, my eyes landing on the little metal bucket of orange ear plugs behind her desk. “You press the silver button under the massage table, and Jeff will be in to assist you. He can be very… *Persuasive* if the client shows signs of being potentially unruly.” “And I’m guessing Jeff isn’t… *Human*? If that's the case, what is he exactly?” Veronica laughed, a strange cackling sound bursting forth from her lips. “Don’t worry about that! Just be glad that he’s working *for* us, instead of *against* us.” Her cat-like eyes almost seemed to glow as she winked at me before continuing onto the last rule. “There are lots of other tips and tricks you’ll probably pick up on from the other employee’s but these three are the ones that we always go over with new hires.” With a tap of her finger on the last rule, she started in again. “The last and final rule is *very* important. Prior to scheduled appointments, if we get a new client, our receptionist, Paloma, always asks them what supernatural category they fall into. But on the odd chance that someone slips through who isn’t *what* or *who* they say they are, grab the bottle of massage oil that says, ‘Aqua Benedicta,’ *immediately* dump it on the client and press the silver button under the massage table that calls for Jeff.” My fingers fidgeted with the little silver ring on my pinky finger as I recounted her words. “What type of clients are the most dangerous?” “The demonic ones,” she simply replied, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Those are the worst. We try our best not to discriminate, but I can’t tell you how many issues we’ve had with their kind. After what happened to one of our last masseuses though, we’ve buckled down and made the decision to outright decline any and all of their appointments, so you shouldn’t have any run-ins with them!” “Yeah, okay…” I awkwardly laughed, my hand coming up to scratch the back of my neck. “Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better!” “The sarcasm is cute.” Veronica smirked, lips once again curling up into a wicked grin as I stood to leave her office. “Oh, and Clara?” I stopped in my tracks and turned to face her. “That wasn’t meant to make you feel better. It was meant to protect you.” She leaned back in her office chair, crossed her arms and said, “I’m serious. This job isn’t for the faint of heart.” With a nod, I stepped out of her office and started my first day. Most of my clients were walk-ins, so I got the most harmless ones. None that I had to wear ear plugs for, or press any buttons, or dump some silly substance on. And it was like that for about a month. Somewhere around three months in, I got my first kelpie client, who of course, tried to speak to me. Jeff was quick to set them straight though, taking over the rest of my appointment and sending them out the door with a look of terror plastered across their face that instantly made me never want to find out *what* he was exactly, or what went on in that room after I left. My first vampire client wasn’t until month five of my employment. I quickly offered them a warm “beverage,” also known as Guinevere's spectacular A+ blood, and then got to work on their massage. They were well behaved; we even had a nice little banter between the two of us, and then they rescheduled a few weeks out. Everything was smooth sailing, and I’d almost gotten past the fact that I worked for a supernatural massage parlor instead of a normal one. Until I met Adonis Moretti. The day started out like any other. I was completely booked, as always, and had just finished with my last client for the day when Paloma asked if I’d be willing to take a walk-in. I glanced at the clock: 4:09 PM. By this time of day, my hands were aching and my feet were sore, so I was more than a little hesitant. Not to mention that the parlor closed at five, and I’d already started cleaning up my room. “Paloma, can none of the others take this one on? I’ve already started cleaning up, and my day was jam packed with clients.” “Two of the other masseuses have already left for the day, Edith is out sick, Tanna is still wrapped up with a client and Reyna is helping restock some things in the back.” She paused a moment, her eyebrows quirked up excitedly and her bottom lip tugged between her teeth before she giggled and said, “Besides, he’s incredibly handsome!” I placed a clean towel over my massage table before turning around and leaning against the edge of it, a small smirk threatening to spill across my own lips. “On a scale of one to -” “Eleven,” she blurted out, her laughter bouncing off of the walls before she covered her mouth and pointed outside towards the reception area. “I’m not kidding. This guy is like, *Greek god* perfect. When he smiled at me, it was like angels started singing.” I giggled, before I rolled my eyes and said, “Okay, I guess I can squeeze him in. What am I working with?” I asked, my hands hooked into the back pocket of my jeans. “He’s part of the fae, so he shouldn’t give you any trouble besides maybe sliding in a joke here and there, but then again, they are known to be mischievous little tricksters!” Paloma poked her head back out the door and waved to him before turning back to me. “He promised me that he would be on his best behavior though!” “Yeah, I’ve dealt with one or two of his kind before. Go ahead and send him in!” Paloma sort of danced in place before she stepped out into the hall and whispered, “I promise you won’t regret it!” The second Paloma came tromping back down the hall with this new guest in tow, I couldn’t help but gawk at the sheer size of the man. His head ducked under the doorframe as he stepped into the room, his presence almost as imposing as his size. Thick soled, black boots squeaked as he strode over to me and shook my hand, his easily dwarfing my much smaller one. “Adonis Moretti. Nice to meet you.” My eyes nonchalantly traveled up his torso, his gray T-shirt stretched taut over the expanse of his chest before straining against broadened shoulders. When I finally settled on his eyes, I couldn’t help the magnetic pull that I felt. Honey brown stared back at me, framed by thick, dark lashes. “I- I’m-” I stuttered for a second, tripping over my words before I caught myself. “I’m so sorry! Where are my manners?!” I blurted out. “Clara Thomas.” Adonis shook my hand, one brow raised as a dazzling smile turned the corners of his lips upwards to reveal a row of perfectly white teeth. Paloma wasn’t wrong… This man was the *epitome* of gorgeous. “Should I take a seat over here or-?” A nervous giggle bubbled up from my lips, but I tried to shove it down. I hadn’t felt this giddy since I was a school girl! Clearing my throat, I pointed to the massage table and directed him on what to do, running through the instructions as fast as I could. The clock on the wall glared back at me, 4:30 ticking closer and closer to five. Luckily, he only booked for a 30 minute massage, so this would be quick. Everything was perfectly fine during the first fifteen minutes. It was the last fifteen when things started to take a turn. “Say, what got you into this business?” Adonis asked as I kneaded the upper portion of his back with the heel of my hands. I smiled and pressed down a little harder, trying to work out a knot. “There’s no easy way to say this than to just admit that I was sort of-” I paused, the words dancing on the tip of my tongue. “This is sort of embarrassing to admit, but I fell in love with this profession during COVID, after a long bout of being single. I guess you could say I was kind of touch deprived, and it really seemed to help, so I figured, why not turn the very thing that helped me into a job that I can use to help other people,” I shrugged. “Similar problem or not.” Moving onto his shoulders I continued, “I just like helping people.” “Why not become a doctor if you like helping people?” he asked. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, I was not about to put myself through the tortures of med school.” My hands smoothed over his shoulders one last time before they moved to his neck. “So, touch deprivation then?” He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, almost like it was caressing my ears. My body involuntarily leaned in closer to him as he spoke. “So, are you still single then?” The question caught me off guard, my cheeks slightly burning a light shade of red. This wasn’t something I usually went into detail about with clients, but for some reason, I found the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I am, actually.” Adonis hummed in response. My eyes glanced back up at the clock before I proceeded to tie things up. He was quiet for the rest of the appointment, up until it was time for him to get dressed. “Okay, that concludes your appointment,” I said, placing my lotions and oils back on the cart. “I’m going to step out of the room for a moment while you-” “Clara.” I immediately froze. *“Come here.”* Before I realized what was happening, I turned and walked across the room, my legs suddenly growing a mind of their own. “E-Excuse me??” I stuttered out. “Did you need something?” An intense feeling of unease settled over me before my fingers twitched, eyes darting to the little silver button hidden under the massage table. “I did need something, actually…” His words trailed off as his hands reached out to grip my waist, tugging me closer to him. Something about him smelled intoxicatingly addictive, a mixture of sweet and spicy. It was flooding my senses and muddying my thoughts. “ In fact…” he started, a wicked grin flickering across his lips. “I think you need the same thing.” “This is- This is not that type of massage parlor, sir!” I stumbled over my words once again, my cheeks reddening more and more by the second. A dark chuckle shook free from him, the low timbre of it both terrifying and enticing me. “Oh, you’ve got me all wrong. That’s a tempting thought, but what I really want is to solve your little touch deprivation issue.” His fingers slid under the fabric of my t-shirt, tracing circles on the exposed skin. I sucked in a breath and then managed to shove a few words past my lips. “I’m fine, really!” My attempt at trying to sound convincing was a complete and utter failure. I was far from fine. This man had a chokehold on my body that I couldn’t seem to break, and my mind didn’t know whether to be tempted by the thought of seeing just what he meant or running out of there like my pants were on fire. Either way, I was terrified. In one swift movement, his lips met the curvature of my ear, and a small gasp escaped my lips. The warmth of his breath fanned out against it as he spoke, but instead of feeling any type of pleasure, I paled at his words, fear doubling down and racing through my system like red-hot lava. “Let me under that pretty skin of yours,” he growled, “and I promise you that you'll never suffer from touch deprivation *ever* again.” Sharp breaths left my lips as my chest heaved. My fingers itched to press the button and call for help, but it was as if my body had betrayed me, bending helplessly to his will. “What-” I clenched my eyes shut and fought to shake the haze that was starting to cloud my mind. “ What are you?” I hissed through tightly clenched teeth. “You’re not a fae.” “Correct,” he breathed, the tip of his tongue darting out to trace the shell of my ear. “Try something a little more… *Demonic*.” Chills rained down my arms as I shook my head. “Stop,” I pleaded. “Please don’t do this.” “Tell me what I am,” he commanded. “*Say it*.” “I- I don’t know what type of demon you are,” I whimpered as he brushed back a strand of my hair. “You poor little lamb,” he crooned. “I’m best known as an incubus, and right now…” He sucked in a breath, his other hand tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “I intend to possess you, body and soul.” A loud thump sounded from behind me, Adonis’s eyes immediately narrowing. “Jeff,” he spat. “*Lovely* to see you.” “*Release her*,” he ordered his voice slicing through the haze that settled over my mind. My legs felt like jelly, but I immediately ran towards the door and shoved past Jeff. I can’t exactly explain what all happened in that room, or how Jeff handled the situation, but I *can* tell you one thing, the ungodly shrieks that I heard as I bolted out of there could only be described as pain and agony in the worst ways imaginable. When Jeff finally finished whatever torture he had inflicted on Adonis, he nodded towards the broom closet and mumbled, “Grab as many cleaning supplies as you can. We need to get this room cleaned up before tomorrow.” I didn’t know what I was expecting when I stepped in, but this far surpassed it. A black, inky substance clung to walls, oozing off of it like a gelatinous sludge. Various bits of brain matter clung to the floor like fragments of lumpy oatmeal, thick and slimy. My eyes shot over to Jeff and I couldn’t help the terror that coursed through my veins the second I saw him stop and admire his work, the ghost of a smile on his lips. It took the both of us a little over three hours to scrub that room clean. I still don’t know what Jeff did with the rest of the body, as I never saw it, but my mind couldn’t help but circle back to one singular thought - Veronica was right, and I am *SO* incredibly glad that Jeff works *for* us and not *against* us. I’ve been at Supernatural Sensations for about two years now, and although I’m not quite sure what Jeff does to the unruly clients, or what he is, I have learned one thing: Jeff *feeds* on pain. After that incident, the screening process up front became much more extensive. And although I continue to work for a massage parlor that caters to the supernatural… *“Let me under that pretty skin of yours”* is *still* the strangest request I’ve had to [date.](https://www.reddit.com/user/Justhegirlnextdoor)

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16jeq50/i_work_for_a_massage_parlor_that_caters_to_the/

nosleep

Justhegirlnextdoor

I woke up in a random parking lot, and something was following me...

The empty parking lot stretched before me like a forgotten grave made of concrete and steel. Fluorescent lights buzzed softly above, making shadows move across the cold, grey floor. I couldn't remember how I got here, but one thing was clear: I wasn't alone. A prickling awareness crept up my spine, and it got worse with every echoed step I took. Endless corners of the parking lot stretched into infinity, concealing half-lit passages of abandoned cars, seemingly plucked from a dream, forgotten by time. It was a strange place; the architecture was reminiscent of that from my childhood. I felt stuck in a never-ending night. I wandered for what felt like an eternity. Suddnely, my heart hammered against my ribcage as I turned a corner. There it was, a sinister figure that looked nothing like a human. Its arms and legs were long and loose. It seemed lifeless yet poised. Its face was a pale mask, smooth and polished, devoid of emotion or individuality. Its eye sockets were empty, peering out of its face as it stared into my soul. I had never seen a thing more ominous. My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest. My knees turned to jelly as I quivered uncontrollably, causing me to stumble backward. Yet the "thing" continued to come forward eerily, disjointedly. The urge to run gripped me like a vice; it was as though an ancient instinct buried deep within me had awakened with ferocious intensity. With every fiber of my being, I could feel the urgency, the need to surrender to this primal impulse. So, I did. My footfalls against the ground echoed like my heartbeat reverberating through the silent, empty night. As I printed down the dimly lit aisles, panic came over me when I heard the constant creaking behind me. I had to figure out how to get out of this god-forsaken place. But every time I turned or rounded a corner, it was there, and its evil presence grew more robust. As I continued running, the surroundings changed, like a mirage of endless halls. I was stuck and lost in a terrible loop. The weight of futility pressed upon my shoulders like an impossible burden; each step I took felt in vain. Every fiber of my being cried out in resignation, and my limbs, once driven by determination, slowly became lifeless. Finally, I gave up and fell to the complex, cold ground, exhausted and beaten. The faceless mask of the “thing” hovered inches against mine. I could feel its cold breath on my skin, like a silent yet ominous presence. I shivered. It was a visceral, gut-wrenching sensation, as if an icy hand reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, stretching each of my heartbeats into an eternity. Every creak of its body was a sinister omen, a harbinger of unspeakable horror lurking inches away from me. In a final act of desperation, I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer, begging profusely for salvation. The air got colder as the “thing” let out a screech. The sound was a grotesque symphony; each reverberation sent shockwaves of fear through me. I have never heard a sound more ominous. I stayed still, paralyzed in fear, for god knows how long. When I finally got the courage to open my eyes, I was back alone, and the garage was back to being empty and lonely. I cried. The feeling of relief washed over me like an incredible, soothing wave, banishing the suffocating grip of fear that had held me hostage. One thing echoed through my mind: it was to get out—the urgency to find the exit coursed through my veins like a surge of electricity. Every nerve in my body screamed for escape. I tripped and got lost as I tried to do so. The neon lights buzzed and made everything look pale and sick. I pushed my body to its limits; my lungs burned for air, and my muscles ached with exertion. And then, when it felt like all hope was fading, I saw it - the exit door, my salvation. With a final surge of adrenaline, I raced toward it. Finally, I did it. As I exited the garage, the lingering, unshaken presence crept over me. It was as if unseen eyes bore into my very core being. I stepped out into the cool night air, and the open sky was a pleasant change from the garage's stuffy concrete walls. An overwhelming rush of joy surged through me, and my worries and fears that plagued me for an eternity dissolved into insignificance. It was a state of pure, unadulterated joy. To this day, I’m still unsure how to comprehend moreover, to share what I have just experienced. But one thing’s for sure: the “thing” I saw should not exist, at least not in the plane of the living. I still couldn't get rid of the memory of that god-forsaken place. It seems to me that the world holds more secrets than we could ever fathom. At the very edge of reality, perhaps, is where they exist, waiting to catch anyone who dares to get too close.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16k0y7d/i_woke_up_in_a_random_parking_lot_and_something/

nosleep

Khal_Yngouf

My baby's first words have left me totally paranoid...

I know it’s cliche, but ever since Edward was born I’ve wanted him to say "Dada." Dad, Daddy, or even Pa would all be great too. Any or all of the above! I don't know when my obsession started... It was probably around the time that Eddie rocketed out of the birth canal. Something about your first child changes you in the head, I guess. Here I was thinking about football, getting an oil change, and what was for dinner. Then less than 24 hours later, I'm coming home with Hannah and a brand new little human in her arms. And that's when I became solely focused on getting "Dada." Of course, Hannah was just as anxious to hear "Mama," and that usually comes first. The M's are easier for babies to say. Still, there was a chance that Dada could get that come-from-behind victory. With enough prep, I was convinced I could make it happen. First, it was weeks of Eddie learning to sleep, eat, and adjust to life outside the womb. When he started to gurgle and babble, the race was on. "Dada, sayyy Dada!" I'd say, just inches from his beaming face. "Bbblababababallllbb," Eddie would respond. Days and weeks went by. I'd parse out family time carefully, interspersing Hannah's occasional "Mama" request with a barrage of "Say Dada... Dada, Dada, Dada..." "Bbblababababallllbb!" The little guy was doing his best. It was months into Eddie's life, when we finally got his first real word. "Bug!" Bug??? Are you kidding me? "Was that his first word?" Hannah had asked, just as confused. "Uh... no... Eddie, say 'Dada' or 'Mama' for us. You can do it." "BUG," Eddie squealed. Hannah and I shared a perplexed look. "Did you teach him that?" "No! Did you?" "Of course not... It must be in one of his toys or songs. That's so strange." But "bug" didn't spoil our party. Hannah and I celebrated "bug" with nearly the fervor as we might have Mama or Dada, expertly hiding our dismay for Eddie's sake. And I was still determined, more than ever. That weekend, I was bouncing Eddie on my shoulder, trying to get him some sleep in between our vocab practices. "Bug," Eddie unmistakably babbled for the upteenth time that week. "Yeah sport, I hear you. Bug." "Bug," Eddie said again. And I bleep you not, Eddie was reaching toward one of those bugs that you see skittle across the floor from time to time. (They're called carpet beetles, I think. And of course, they're totally harmless.) I don't have any clue how he spotted it, but there it was. "Bug!" He wanted it badly, squirming in my arms, reaching and now freshly awake. "OK Eddie, OK." I let him crawl up to the beetle, which wasn't in any hurry to escape. "Bug bug bug," Eddie rattled off, the most excited I'd ever seen him. "Yeah kiddo, good. Bug." I think it's actually pretty impressive that he would identify that. I almost got my phone to record it, but that's when his outburst began: "BUG BUG BUG!" I stepped over to Eddie as his voice got louder, probably the loudest I'd ever heard outside of his routine crying. "Do you want me to-" SMACK. "Bug!!!" Eddie killed the beetle with a clenched fist. "Geez, Eddie." He stared at the mess he'd made and squealed his loudest, celebrating his victory. I picked him up and took him to the sink. Hannah would be unhappy if she found beetle guts all over his hands. \*\*\* Eddie hadn't said "bug" since he killed the carpet beetle. He actually has a new word. "Coco." If you didn't notice, that's not Mama or Dada, but it's close. Two syllables. Repetitive. I think we're almost there. "Coco!" Somehow, Eddie picked up on our Chihuahua's name. He must have heard us say it at some point, or maybe C's are easier for Eddie to pronounce than M's or D's. Coco is pretty old, and barely able to see or hear, so the toddler screeching its name is probably as bewildering as it is to me and Hannah. It's kind of cute, though. The two of them have certainly formed a unique bond. Like that Pixar short that was before, uh, well I actually forget which movie they paired that one with. Eddie calls for Coco, and Coco usually will approach within a few feet. Eddie cheers "Coco!" over and over again and then exhausts himself. Then, the cycle repeats a couple hours later after an inevitable nap. In addition to Eddie's second word, he's gotten more mobile. He'll crawl around and play with his food now. It means we can let him bounce around his nursrey, allowing Hannah and I to do chores, so long as one of us is watching. At least, we thought that was the case. It was a Sunday afternoon. I was half-watching football while Hannah was out shopping. Every few seconds, I'd check on Eddie and make sure he was enjoying himself, not getting into trouble and so on. Sooner or later though, I had to use the restroom. It literally took me two minutes, maybe less. "Coco Coco Coco. COCO!" It had been a few days since Eddie had a Coco burst like that. It was audible throughout the house. I returned to the play room as quickly as I could, and when I got there, I understood why Eddie had been squealing so ecstatically. Coco was dead. \*\*\* I buried Coco by the time Hannah got home that night. She was crushed. We loved that little dog. After a good cry and a mini-funeral, we'd opened a bottle of wine and were trying to figure out what to watch on TV. "So... You just found him?" Hannah asked, finally able to talk about it. "Yeah. Coco just... took a nap and didn't wake up." "That's for the best," she said. "I guess we were expecting that sooner or later." "Totally. He was really up there in years." Hannah sighed, searching the streaming site with the remote. "Can you get us some popcorn or something?" she asked. "Sure." I checked over my shoulder one more time before leaving the room. She wasn't suspicious in the slightest. Out of respect for Hannah's squeamishness (and trying to avoid a rather gruesome truth) I'd spared her the details. I'd outright lied. The images flashed through my mind as I combined kettle corn with SnoCaps. Coco hadn't passed in his sleep. When I'd returned from my midday bathroom break, Coco had managed to hop Eddie's child safety fence, which I assumed had sparked the "Coco" outburst. Re-latching the gate, I'd turned the corner to find Eddie still squealing in the corner. Coco was wrapped in his tiny arms. "Cocooo!!!" Eddie shrieked. The toddler was squeezing the life out of the poor animal. I shouted, horrified at the sight of it all. And I did my best to stop it. But I was too late. By the time I'd reached Eddie and separated Coco from his vice grip, the pup had gone limp. "Eddie! Why? What did you do?!" Eddie's breath slowed. He looked up at me and just smiled. "Coco." Eddie answered. I put Eddie in his crib for a nap, buried Coco, and wiped all the footage from our indoor cameras. I still hadn't processed it, honestly. Eddie killing the bug was a fluke, but this was strange. I'd just never heard of something like that. "Honey! Come in here!" "Almost done," I called down the hallway, realizing I'd spent too much time PTSD'ing. "Now!" I dropped everything and jogged back to the living room, my pulse suddenly racing. "Are you OK?" Hannah was holding Edward in her arms, a giant smile on both their faces. "Say it baby. Say it again. Come on..." I looked down at Eddie, confused. Our eyes met. "Dada!" Hannah gasped. "I can't believe it! That's his third word!" she celebrated. My jaw dropped. She added, "Oh, I'm so jealous. You're sooo lucky!" "Dada... Dada!" I should have been elated too, but inside, all I felt was terror. "Dada! Dada! DADA!!!" "He's saying it! Wow!" The child reached his arms out toward me. He said "Dada" and that meant somehow, at some unknown moment... I was going to be next.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16b4fiw/my_babys_first_words_have_left_me_totally_paranoid/

nosleep

MadSmatter

When the Sun Set Forever pt.4

As I gazed around the cabin that had become my sanctuary, a sense of impending urgency gnawed at me. While it had provided shelter and a semblance of safety, it was also a beacon in the wilderness, a marker that could draw in both the desperate and the ruthless. The thought of the encounter I had just survived replayed in my mind, the image of the blood-stained club and the lifeless bodies a haunting reminder. I knew I couldn't linger here forever, cocooned in the false security of my makeshift refuge. The world beyond the cabin had become a twisted and unforgiving landscape, where survival demanded vigilance and adaptability. If I stayed, the risk of discovery and subsequent confrontation would only increase. What if those teens had been adults? The chilling question taunted me, a stark reminder of the unpredictable nature of the world I now navigated. Against three adults, my chances of survival would have been slim at best. The forest, once a place of solace, now held the potential for danger at every turn. With a heavy sigh, I acknowledged that the time would come when I would have to leave the cabin behind. It wasn't a choice driven by desire but by necessity. I couldn't allow myself to become complacent, to assume that the worst was behind me. The events of the recent encounter were etched into my memory, a stark reminder that the line between life and death was razor-thin. As I scanned the cabin's interior, my thoughts turned to the supplies I had accumulated—the essentials that would sustain me as I ventured back into the unknown. The forest held its secrets, its perils, and its promise, and I needed to be ready to face both. The choice was mine to make—to stay and risk discovery, or to venture out and confront the dangers that awaited. Leaving the cabin would be a bittersweet farewell to the solitude that had offered temporary respite. Yet, it was also a declaration of my determination to survive, to adapt, and to navigate the treacherous path that had become my reality. With a heavy heart and a wary mind, I knew that my journey was far from over. Over the next two days, a quiet determination gripped me as I methodically prepared for the uncertain path that lay ahead. The cabin, once my sanctuary, now served as a staging ground for my departure—a departure that was marked by a sense of both trepidation and resolve. With careful precision, I gathered the essentials—rations that would sustain me through the trials of the unknown. Cans of food, dried fruits, and water bottles found their way into a worn backpack, each item chosen with a keen eye for sustenance that would stretch as far as possible. Medical supplies were a priority too—a reminder that the dangers beyond were not to be underestimated. The hunting rifle leaned against the cabin's wall, a symbol of both protection and potential sustenance. I checked and rechecked its ammunition, knowing that every shot would be a precious commodity in the unforgiving wilderness. Beside it, an old Western-style revolver was tucked into a holster, its weight reassuring against my hip. With an ample supply of bullets, it became a reminder that my survival depended on my ability to defend myself. The machete gleamed in the firelight, its blade freshly sharpened to a lethal edge. It was more than a tool—it was a lifeline that promised both protection and utility. As it found its place among my belongings, I felt a strange sense of connection to the primitive instincts that had been awakened in me by the chaotic world outside. As I surveyed my preparations, a mix of emotions swirled within me. Fear and uncertainty were undeniable, but they were tempered by the knowledge that I was choosing to step into the unknown, to confront the dangers that had driven me from my sanctuary. The desire to survive, to outlast the chaos that had engulfed the world, was a driving force that fueled my every action. With the backpack secured and my weapons in place, I took a final glance around the cabin that had sheltered me. It had been a haven in a time of turmoil, a fleeting respite from the horrors of the outside world. But I couldn't afford to remain stagnant—not when survival demanded adaptability and the willingness to face the darkness head-on. With the cabin fading in the distance behind me, I set my sights on the horizon, my heart heavy with the weight of what lay ahead. The forest, once a place of refuge, now beckoned with its mysteries and dangers. As I stepped into the unknown, I carried with me the lessons learned, the tools for survival, and a relentless determination to endure whatever challenges the world might throw my way. Amid the solitude of my departure, a singular purpose anchored my journey—a pristine notebook, untouched and waiting. Its pages held the promise of a narrative, a narrative that would carry the echoes of a world that once thrived, now enshrouded in shadows. With ink as my voice, I envisioned my experiences etched across those blank pages. They would recount my odyssey—the battles waged against both nature's fury and the demons born from humanity's downfall. Each stroke of the pen would stand as a whisper against the consuming silence, a testament to a life that once flourished. Yet, the notebook held a silent gamble, an uncertain venture into the unknown. Would these words find other eyes? Would my story resonate beyond my own heart? I wouldn't know, but I wrote with an urgency that transcended my survival as if by writing, I could shape the world anew. As leaves rustled and the forest breathed around me, the notebook absorbed my thoughts. It became a confidant, a vessel for my fears, dreams, and the unyielding spirit propelling me forward. Each written word was a lifeline, cast into the void with the hope that it would reach beyond my solitude. Amid contemplation, the ink flowed onto the pages. The journal wasn't mere writing—it was a declaration of existence. Its purpose lay beyond me; it was a thread connecting the past and present, a testament that even amid turmoil, human stories persisted. The notebook's fate was uncertain. It might fade into obscurity, untouched, or it could one day find hands eager to unravel its tales. But regardless, I wrote on—my pen a bridge between what was and what could be, my words a tribute to resilience—a resilience that defied the encroaching darkness. I am Eric Davids, and three months ago, the sun had set on our world, its warm embrace fading into darkness, never to rise again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tov01/when_the_sun_set_forever_pt4/

scarystories

True-Region-2149

When the Sun Set Forever pt.1

(Have to post in parts since Reddit won't let me post all at once) The initial inkling of strangeness came as the sun, an everyday companion, dipped below the horizon in its predictable trajectory. The skies transformed into a canvas of vibrant colors as the golden orb painted its farewell. But as twilight melted into night, an odd sensation began to take hold. The moon, once a familiar guardian of the night, had seemingly vanished, leaving the world in an abyssal void. As the hours pressed on, a pall of disquiet descended upon the land. The usual sounds of nocturnal creatures were notably absent, replaced by an eerie silence that hung in the air like a tangible presence. Streetlights, the dim beacons that offered a semblance of comfort, flickered uncertainly, casting distorted shadows that danced menacingly on the pavement. My footsteps echoed through the deserted streets as I ventured outside, drawn by an instinct to seek answers. But the darkness was impenetrable, swallowing my surroundings and distorting familiar landmarks into ghostly forms. As midnight approached, a creeping sensation of isolation gnawed at my mind. I longed for the sun's return, its warmth, and the light that had always been a constant. My watch remained stubbornly still, time itself disrupted by the inexplicable disappearance. Sleep proved elusive as the night wore on. Dreams mingled with reality, each shadow taking on a life of its own, and every rustle in the darkness triggering a jolt of panic. I strained my ears for sounds that didn't belong, fearing what unknown horrors might lurk just beyond sight. Dawn, the harbinger of hope, remained elusive. The world remained enshrouded in an unending night, the boundaries between day and night irrevocably shattered. Sanity teetered on the brink as I grappled with the reality that the sun, the very essence of life, had vanished without a trace. Hours turned into days, and a sense of futility settled in—a world without the sun, without its guiding light and life-giving energy. In the endless expanse of darkness, time lost its meaning, and the promise of dawn was nothing more than a distant memory. The disappearance of the sun had plunged us into a realm where reality was twisted, and fear held dominion over a world forever shrouded in night. In the wake of the sun's inexplicable disappearance, the initial response from the government was one of reassurance. Officials issued statements, urging citizens to remain calm, attributing the event to a temporary celestial anomaly. They spoke of scientific investigations, of experts working tirelessly to unravel the mystery. Yet, as days turned into nights and the skies remained locked in eternal darkness, the facade of calm began to crack. Panic spread through the populace like wildfire, and trust in the authorities wavered. Communication networks faltered, plagued by confusion and misinformation. Fearful murmurs replaced the once-steady hum of daily life. In an attempt to regain control, the government deployed military forces to maintain order. But the sense of unease had evolved into a pervasive dread that defied containment. Protests erupted, demanding answers, demanding the return of the sun. People took to the streets, demanding truth and clarity in a world that had been plunged into chaos. As the government's hold on power weakened, factions formed. Dissent gave rise to resistance, and a growing sentiment of distrust fueled an undercurrent of rebellion. The first signs of anarchy emerged—looting, violence, and a general breakdown of law and order. The streets once bustling with life now teemed with uncertainty and danger. Attempts to quell the unrest were met with resistance, with protesters refusing to back down. As the darkness persisted, so did the people's desperation. The once-solid walls of authority crumbled under the weight of a world that had lost its guiding light. Amid the chaos, pockets of rebellion grew bolder. Gatherings turned into organized movements, and dissent transformed into outright defiance. The government's control became a tenuous thread, stretched thin by the mounting turmoil. Society's fabric frayed as loyalties shifted and allegiances changed. It wasn't long before the unthinkable occurred—the government, once the embodiment of power, was overthrown. A new order emerged from the ashes, one borne out of necessity and fueled by anger. The anarchy that had simmered below the surface erupted into a full-blown revolution. A power vacuum had opened, and the vacuum was filled by those who sought control in a world that had been cast adrift. With the dawn of this new era came a grim reality. The streets, once marked by protest, now bore the scars of conflict. The world, once governed by law, was now a landscape dominated by a struggle for survival. Chaos reigned supreme as society plunged into a realm where morality and order were no longer absolutes.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15toqjx/when_the_sun_set_forever_pt1/

scarystories

True-Region-2149

Now I am afraid of going outside at night

It was night, it was like 1am, and I went outside for a little bit of fresh air, because something made me cry so hard that I felt like suffocating in my room. I was outside and I heard footsteps in my garden. At first I thought it was my cat or my dog. Then, I heard more footsteps, it was like it was going towards me. I took a deep breath, and went to look what was there. I saw a big black silhouette, and it was not mine. I ran back as fast as I could in my room, and put my blanket all over me. The next nights I still went outside, thinking it was a hallucination or something. But in all of those nights after that happened, I heard footsteps, and still from the garden. Now I am afraid to go outside at night, because I am afraid of what can happen. Maybe I am just paranoid, but I am not risking it.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tg99v/now_i_am_afraid_of_going_outside_at_night/

scarystories

nooneishere_13

Unexpected Hotel Guest

So, I (22m) stayed a night in a hotel in Ohio, before catching a flight early the next morning. Everything went well at first, check in was smooth the room was nice. I ordered some pizza and shortly after eating I fell asleep around 10 pm. I slept pretty good until about 2 am. I was woken up to the sound of what I think was people talking. I couldn't really make out words, but it definitely sounded like voices. Half awake, I rubbed my eyes and looked around as the sound appeared to be getting closer. I began to be able to make out that it was a conversation, but in a language I didn't understand. It almost sounded like the Latin we sang in high school choir. I don't know why it scared me so much but as they got closer to my room I froze, the only sounds in the room were now the AC unit and my breathing. They stopped at my door, I could hear them shuffling around, talking on a hushed tone. Shit. I tried so hard not to even move, breathing as quietly as possible. I didn't want to be dramatic and hide in the bathroom, but I also didn't want to dismiss it because of the what if's. After what felt like an eternity of trying not to move and hearing them talk the door handle started to go absolutely wild, like they were trying to jerk or off the handles. The noise of the door rapidly hitting the frame and the handle being jerked in every direction filled the room in such a way that it almost felt like I couldn't hear myself think. "This room is occupied, please go away." I tried to sound like the big burley man I tend to be but there was a shake in my voice. I knew I was too far from home to call for help, this was between me and whoever was on the other side of the door. They started screaming at me through the door in the same language they were speaking in previously. While I didn't understand it, it definitely sounded threatening. I tried again, "If you don't leave me alone I'll call the police." Complete silence. At this point the silence felt deafening. I tried to listen to see if they were still there, keeping my eyes on the door for any more movement I may not be able to hear. Moments later the door, still locked, slowly crept open. At this point I was more angry than I was scared. I got out of bed, cursing to myself as I went to see who was messing with me. Nothing. I walked the halls for a moment, looking to see in every hiding spot, but there was no one. I went back into my room and did not sleep a wink the rest of the night, scared that whoever or whatever was at my door might return.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tfb8d/unexpected_hotel_guest/

scarystories

s0ftbyte

I Found a Time Capsule with a Letter Inside That Predicted My Death

The past few years have been an absolute whirlwind for me. For years, I was a struggling writer, dreaming of becoming the next great American author, but I simply couldn't break into the literary industry. I survived for a time on freelance jobs ranging from article writing and blogging to copywriting and editing. They say every dog has his day. Mine arrived nearly two years ago when my debut horror novel, "Fragments of Fear," exceeded my [wildest](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1581vef/our_search_for_a_missing_teen_uncovered_the/) expectations and became an unexpected hit. It landed on The New York Times bestseller list, with reviews describing it as "an atmospheric and chilling journey into the depths of human darkness." I hadn't reached Stephen King levels of name recognition, but copies of my book were front and center in bookstores. I even got to go on a ten-city book signing tour and participate in a few talk show interviews. My brush with fame made me weary of the limelight. So, with the earnings from my book sales, I purchased a two-story house in the suburbs. The house wasn't extravagant, but it was far removed from the bustling city and the demanding publishing industry. It became my sanctuary, a place to find solace, recharge my creative energy, and explore my imagination without distraction. It was an older house and required some work, but I was excited at the prospect of making it my own. At the top of my to-do list was refurbishing the large backyard. I had always envisioned starting a family and imagined barbecues and children playing in the yard. Unfortunately, years of neglect had turned the backyard into a dense jungle of weeds and poison oak. I spent the better part of an afternoon meticulously mowing the lawn and pulling weeds. Afterward, I began planting a new garden. While digging a hole in the soil for some potted flowers next to an old oak tree, my spade hit something solid. The metallic clang reverberated through the air. Fearing that I had struck a water or gas pipe, I put my spade down and carefully brushed away the loose soil with my gloved hands. What I uncovered was a small, weathered metal box buried just below the surface. The box was light but sturdy. A blend of excitement and curiosity took over as I gently pried the box open with the head of my spade. Inside was a collection of old black-and-white family photographs of a couple and their young daughter. There were also trinkets, likely of sentimental value to the box's owner: a tarnished silver locket with a picture of a Labrador retriever, a small vial of sand, and a porcelain figurine of a ballerina. Based on the content, I surmised it was some sort of time capsule. But what made my blood run cold was a sealed envelope bearing my full name and the current date, written in cursive. This was impossible. Judging by the photographs, the box must have been buried sometime in the 1920s. I dropped everything I was doing and brought the box inside. Opening the envelope, I found a letter that read: "Dear Mr. Travers, If you are reading this, just know that in five days, your life will end. We know this because we were the ones who brought about your demise. We apologize for this harsh reality but implore you to understand the desperation that compels us. We seek to bring back our daughter, Lily, from the clutches of death, and your sacrifice is the price demanded. We deeply regret the burden we have placed upon you, extending across time. Please know our intentions are not cruel, but driven by unconditional love. We understand the enormity of this request. May you find some solace in knowing that your sacrifice holds the promise of restoring Lily's future. With heartfelt gratitude,Evelyn and William Hastings. P.S. As a small consolation, we have provided you with a glimpse into the upcoming week. ”A separate sheet listed the dates for the next five days, each with a mysterious prediction: “July 15th: A stranger will cross your path, seeking a favor. July 16th: A creature of the night will find its way into your sanctuary. July 17th: The sky will weep for you, but you will find only darkness in these tears. July 18th: Your most beloved creation will betray you.July 19th: Through flames, a cherished life will be consumed.” After reading this, I was left in a state of confusion and disbelief. There was no way this letter could be real, I thought. I'd had my fair share of obsessive fans sending me ideas for my next novel or their unedited manuscripts. It wasn't a stretch to imagine that a deranged fan or a prankster with a twisted sense of humor had discovered my new address and devised this elaborate hoax. Whoever was behind it, I had to give them credit for their creativity. They had the makings of a great horror writer. I returned the contents to the box, closed the lid, and set it aside. I made a mental note to change all the locks, then returned to my yard work. The next day, I was busy patching a crack in my living room wall when I heard a heavy knock at the door. I wasn't expecting any visitors, so I slowly opened the door a crack, keeping the chain lock still in place. Standing on my porch was a man in his late forties, tall and lean, with disheveled brown hair and a scruffy beard. "Yes, can I help you?" I asked, warily." Hey, I'm sorry to bother you," he began. "But my car broke down in front of your house. I think the carburetor is busted." He pointed at a blue sedan with its hood popped up and smoke billowing from the engine. I sized him up with suspicion. I remembered the prediction about a stranger crossing my path. I hadn't thought the letter had literally predicted a stranger coming to my house and asking for help. Instead, I wondered if this guy was the one who had buried the box in my backyard as a prank. Cautiously, I offered to call a tow truck for him while he waited outside. He happily agreed. I closed the door behind me and called the towing company. The man patiently waited on my front porch until the truck arrived. He thanked me with a smile and left with the truck driver. For the remainder of the day, I peered out my window to see if the stranger returned, but I never saw him again. I convinced myself that it was just a coincidence. And as far as coincidences go, it wasn't the most absurd. Stranger things have happened. The following day, the bizarre time capsule and its unsettling prophecy still occupied the forefront of my mind. However, when my agent called, inquiring as to why I hadn’t replied to his multiple emails, I was thrust back into the reality of my professional obligations. The publisher had been breathing down his neck due to my delay in submitting drafts for my much-anticipated second novel. I was contractually bound to deliver a complete draft by the year's end. "Just one chapter, Alex," he pleaded. "A rough draft, anything. It’ll pacify them for at least a month." "I'll have it ready by the end of the week," I assured him, placating his concerns. Secluding myself in my office, I faced my laptop with grim determination. I vowed not to leave for any reason until I'd accomplished a writing goal of 2,000 words. By 10 PM, I was sitting in the dark with my laptop screen as the only source of light. I had managed to produce only about a thousand words. Feeling somewhat claustrophobic in my small, stuffy office, I opened the window to let the crisp night air sweep in, carrying the scent of wet grass and the faint rustling of leaves. I took a deep breath and leaned back into my chair, closing my eyes for a moment. Suddenly, a loud flapping sound jolted me back to reality. I jumped from my chair, my heart pounding in my chest. From the darkness of the night, a shadowy figure swooped into my office. Panicked, I ducked, my mind rushing back to the note's prophecy about a creature of the night. Was this it? The figure collided with my bookshelf, sending books showering to the floor, and hooted loudly, before landing on my desk. Gathering my courage, I switched on the desk lamp. The room was instantly bathed in a warm glow, revealing my intruder—a barn owl. With an eeriness that sent a chill down my spine, the owl slowly turned its head almost 360 degrees, like a scene out of "The Exorcist," observing its surroundings. I had never been this close to an owl before, and I hadn't realized how large they could get. This particular one was almost the size of a young child. "Hey there, easy now…" I said, grabbing a flashlight from my desk. I slowly approached it, still crouched, with my flashlight arm extended. Before I could get very far, the owl spread its wings wide. With a powerful flap, it took off again, sweeping across my office, flying straight out of my window. My meticulously organized notes fell victim to the gust created by the owl's wings, scattering across the room like confetti. I poked my head out the window and followed the bird with the flashlight beam. I saw it glide into the treeline. It was slightly unnerving how its flapping wings barely made a noise. It perched on a branch, turning its head around to look back at me, its massive eyes reflecting back my light. I jumped back, shutting the window with a bang. As I paced around the room, cleaning the mess that the owl had created, I felt a sense of unease. One prediction coming true, I could pass off as a coincidence. But this one was so oddly specific. I was starting to fear for my life. But what could I do? Go to the police? I would be sent for a psych evaluation before I even finished my story. I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night. Instead, I stayed up, researching everything I could find about the history of the house and the family in the photograph. The articles I found about the house revealed that it was built in the 1880s and had changed hands several times before being bought by a young couple, William and Evelyn Hastings, in 1921. They had a daughter named Lily Margaret Hastings in 1922. I found a news article from 1927 titled "Miracle Child Thought Dead Wakes Up at Funeral." The article revealed that Lily had fallen into a frozen lake when she was five. She wasn't breathing when her father pulled her out and was declared dead. As embalming wasn't common at the time, her funeral was held the very next day. As they were lowering her casket into the grave, mourners heard faint scratching from within. When they ripped open the lid, they found the child shaken but very much alive. Doctors were baffled as to how she had survived. The theory posed in the article was that the icy water had put her into a deep coma where her breathing and heartbeat were too faint to detect. The only [other](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGd1F6Ay8ho) significant thing I found was an obituary for Lily from 2019. She had lived a long, full life and passed away peacefully in her sleep at age 97. She was survived by two children, six grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren. The obituary noted her love for dogs and the beach, and her career as a professional ballerina. "That explains the trinkets," I muttered to myself. The obituary was written by her granddaughter, Hannah Sullivan, who was the local head librarian.I glanced at my watch. It was already 5 AM. Morning brought a dense layer of cloud cover. As predicted, a sudden and violent storm swept over the neighborhood, casting a shadowy gloom that echoed my inner turmoil. My rational side still insisted that this was all an elaborate prank, but the creeping doubt in my mind was growing stronger with each passing hour. I reasoned that if anyone had answers, it would be Hannah Sullivan. I looked up the library where she worked and saw that it was only a 20-minute drive away. I waited for the storm to break before heading out. By 10 AM, the storm showed no signs of letting up, but I was desperate for answers. I tucked the letter and photos into my coat pocket and ran to my car. I drove through the rain-soaked roads, the whippers screeching as they move across the windshield. As I pulled into the library's parking lot, I noticed that it was nearly empty, with only a few other cars present. The library itself was a Victorian building that looked like it had been recently remodeled. Entering the library, I found it almost deserted except for a young woman at the reception desk. She was engrossed in a book, her glasses perched on her nose and her dark hair tied up in a messy ponytail. I glanced at what she was reading and saw that it was a copy of my book. I approached her gingerly. I was soaking wet and still unsure of how to explain my strange predicament without sounding stark mad. As I neared the desk, she looked up, setting her book aside and offering me a warm smile. "Hello," she said, her eyes brightening behind her glasses. "Can I help you find anything?" "I'm actually here to find Hannah Sullivan," I replied, meeting her gaze. "I read that she works here." The woman looked at me with suspicion. "May I ask who is asking for her?" She asked. I knew I couldn’t just tell her my true reason for needing to see her. I had one literal card to play. I pulled out a business card from my pocket and slid it across the desk. She read it, her eyes widening. "The Alex Travers? The author of 'Fragments of Fear'?" she asked excitedly. She checked the photo on the inside of her book’s jacket to confirm. I concocted a convincing lie about wanting to research local lore for my next novel, and after offering to sign her copy of the book, she was more than happy to lead me to a small office tucked away in the corner of the building. She knocked lightly on the door before opening it. "Ms. Sullivan, there's someone here to see you." "It’s Alex Travers," the young librarian added in a giddy tone. Hannah looked up from her computer screen, surprised by the interruption. She was a striking woman in her early thirties, her ginger hair pulled back into a neat bun, freckles scattered across her cheeks. Her eyes, a brilliant emerald green, regarded me with curiosity. She seemed far less impressed with my presence than her colleague. "Thank you, Amber," she said to the young woman. Amber lingered at the door, hoping to be a part of the conversation, but she got the hint to leave when she saw that everyone was just standing awkwardly in silence. "Mr. Travers, please have a seat," Hannah said, her tone cordial but guarded. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" I sat down in the chair across from her. I hesitated, unsure of how to proceed, but decided to get straight to the point. I explained to her that I had recently bought her great-grandparents' house. I reached into my coat pocket and retrieved the weathered photos, laying them on her desk. Hannah's eyes slightly widened as she studied the pictures of her ancestors. "I found these in my backyard a couple of days ago," I said. "They were in a box buried near the old oak tree." There was a flicker of surprise on her face, quickly replaced by a look of concern. There was a moment of silence as she traced her finger over the image of the young girl in the picture. “And the letter…” she started, “Was there a letter in the box?” I was shocked. I hadn’t even mentioned the letter yet. “How did you know there was a letter?” I asked, perplexed, handing her the two handwritten sheets of paper. She examined the letter carefully. “This is my great-grandmother’s handwriting,” she said. "But… How did she know my name? Or the current date?" I stammered, the fear creeping back into my voice. "I just... I just don't understand." “I’d heard the stories, but I didn’t think any of it was true…” She spoke, talking more to herself than to me. “What stories?” I demanded. Hannah looked at me, her eyes filled with empathy. She sighed deeply and began, "Mr. Travers, my family... has a rather complicated history. My great-grandmother Evelyn was a spiritualist. She held séances, believing she could communicate with the dead. You’ve no doubt read about my grandmother Lily’s story?” I nodded in confirmation. "Well, there’s a family legend that when Lily drowned in the lake, her mother made a deal with the spirit world to bring her back,” she continued. “What was the deal?” I probed. “A life for a life,” she answered. “Not the life of anyone she knew, but that of someone who would live in the house in the distant future.” I thought about what she said for a moment, and suddenly it all clicked. “Wait… So you’re saying Evelyn traded my life to save her daughter?” I asked. “In a sense… yes,” she confirmed. “This is my life. Do I not get a say in this?” I argued. Hannah sighed, “You have to see it from her perspective. She was getting her only child back, in exchange for the life of a complete stranger who wouldn’t even be born in her lifetime. What parent wouldn’t make that deal?” “This is insane! Is there any way to reverse this?” I asked, anxiety in my voice. The rain outside echoed my desperation, fiercely hitting the library's windows. Hannah’s face fell. “I don’t know. This isn't something I've ever dealt with. As far as I know, no one's ever tried. You can’t just undo three generations of my family’s existence. I…” Her words were cut off by a sudden crash of thunder. The room darkened as the power went out; only the sporadic flashes of lightning illuminated the space. “Damn it!” I shouted, more from fear than anger. I got up abruptly, knocking my chair to the floor. “Are you messing with me? Is this your idea of a joke?” I accused, fumbling in the darkness towards the door. Hannah gasped, clearly taken aback by my reaction. “No, I swear! I wouldn’t joke about something like this. I…” I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I pushed my way out of the office, navigated the dark library, and found my way to the exit. Outside, the storm was raging, but I didn’t care. My mind was spinning, caught in a whirlwind of fear and disbelief. The rain quickly soaked through my clothes, but it did little to dampen the fiery panic consuming me. I sat in my car, staring at the list of prophecies. The next to the last one worried me almost as much as my own impending demise. As I read the phrase "Your most beloved creation will betray you" one more time, a shiver ran down my spine. My first thought was of my book, my characters. But how would fictional characters turn on me? I wondered. I spent the rest of the day in a daze, trying to piece together the cryptic prophecy. I pored over my manuscripts, searching for any character or plot point that could possibly betray me. I didn't know what I was looking for. I don't even remember falling asleep, but I was awakened by a news alert on my phone. The headline sent a chill through my veins: "Fanatical Reader Commits Heinous Murder, Recreates Scene from 'Fragments of Fear'." It felt as if the floor had given way beneath me. As I read the gruesome facts of the crime, my heart pounded frantically. The fan, a man named Robert Miles, was reportedly obsessed with my work, especially the serial killer character, Orion West, from my book. He had been apprehended after strangling his wife, which he claimed was an homage to one of Orion's most brutal killings. Feeling nauseated, I dropped my phone. My mind was racing. In a state of panic, I contacted every spiritualist, paranormal expert, and occultist I could find. All were either incredulous, dismissive, or too eager to exploit my desperation. None were able to offer anything concrete or even plausible. I contemplated boarding a plane and fleeing to the farthest corner of the world. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how pointless that would be. The prophecy wasn't tied to the house. It was tied to me, and there was no escaping myself. On the morning of July 19th, I woke up with a sense of dread. The final prediction was to be fulfilled that day. Despite the comfort of daylight, the threat felt imminent. The morning passed in a blur, my thoughts consumed by what was to come. The knock on my door in the afternoon startled me. When I opened it, I found Hannah standing there. Her green eyes were filled with a strange mixture of apprehension and hope. She held an old book in one hand and a large bag slung over her shoulder. "Mr. Travers, I’m sorry to show up unannounced," she began. "But I couldn’t stop thinking about our encounter yesterday. I think I might have a solution for you." "Do you?" I asked, trying not to raise my hopes. "Yes, if I may come in…" she said. "Please come in," I responded, leading her inside. Once inside, she laid the book on my dining room table. "I spent all night going through my great-grandmother’s old books of spells and rituals," she explained. "And I found this…" She opened the book, directing my attention to a particular page. "‘Life Transference Spell’?" I read where her finger indicated. "I believe Evelyn used the spell to transfer Lily’s death onto you," she explained. "Is there a ritual or something to reverse the spell?" I asked. "There is, but there's a catch," she replied, looking at me seriously. "What’s the catch?" I asked nervously. "If we do this... it will change everything," she warned, her voice grave. "You'll effectively erase all the events in your life that led you to this house, to this moment.” I looked at her. "What do you mean by 'erase'?" "The spell, as it works, will shift the trajectory of your life away from your current path," Hannah clarified. "Your memories and experiences – they will all remain intact. However, to the world around you, it will be as if 'Fragments of Fear' never happened. You would have taken a different path in life, one that wouldn’t have led to you writing that particular book and the fame it brought you." "But... but this was my life’s work, my dream," I stammered, feeling a lump forming in my throat. "I dedicated years to writing, to getting my work out there. And now, you're telling me I have to give it all up?" Hannah's expression softened, her eyes showing a glimmer of sympathy. “Mr. Travers… Alex… I’m so sorry you had to be put into this position. You did nothing to deserve it. It's an awful decision to make, but there's no alternative.” Hannah's revelation was a punch to the gut. I had been prepared for many things – a bitter battle against unseen forces, a final plea for mercy to the spirits – but not this. I was being asked to forfeit the very foundation of my identity, my successes, my accomplishments. To live on, but as a phantom in a life that could have been. “What’s the point of living if I’m left with nothing?” I wondered aloud. Hannah placed a comforting hand on mine. “I know it’s a lot of pressure to put on one person… But you’ll still have you, with all your hopes, dreams, and passions. You’ll still have the capacity to love, to feel, to experience life... Isn't that worth preserving?” she asked. I kept my head down, considering my options. Finally, I looked up, meeting Hannah's worried gaze with resolve. "All right," I declared, my voice steadier than I felt. "Let's do it. What do we need to do?" Hannah let out a relieved sigh before giving me a weak smile. "I’ve brought most of the items we need for the ritual already. We’ll also need a copy of your book.” “Okay, I’ll get it,” I said. We cleared a spot under the oak tree in my backyard, formed a stone circle, and built a fire in the center. The sun was already setting when we finished. Holding a copy of my book in my trembling hands, I exchanged a glance with Hannah. The enormity of our decision hung heavy between us. “You have to do this. This is your life,” she reiterated, her voice shaking with emotion.I nodded, unable to muster a response. I held my book over the flame, the heat nipping at my fingers. My heart sank as I remembered the countless hours, days, and months I had invested in creating this story. It was more than just a book to me; it was a piece of my soul. And I was about to watch it burn. Before I could second-guess myself, I dropped it into the flames. The book caught fire instantly, the pages curling and blackening in the fire. A sharp pang of loss shot through me, but I pushed it aside. Hannah interlaced her fingers with mine as we watched the fire. The atmosphere grew warmer, the flames reflecting in her emerald eyes. She started to chant in an unfamiliar language, her voice growing louder and more forceful as she went on. I watched in awe as the fire seemed to dance in rhythm with her words. I could hear the echoes of other voices, disembodied and inhuman, chanting along with her. As she continued, I felt her hand growing cold and her grip weakening. Then, her hand seemed to slip through my fingers like a fistful of sand. She raised her hand. I could see her horrified eyes through her translucent palm. "What's happening?" she cried out in terror. I hesitated for a moment, then turned my gaze back to the flames. Her eyes followed mine. The fire had burned through the cover of the hardback, revealing pages crossed out with a marker and her grandmother’s silver locket hidden between them. "I'm sorry, Hannah," I confessed, my voice choked with guilt. "I just couldn’t give it all up." "You... you altered the spell..." she stammered, her form flickering and gradually fading. "You erased my family..." "Yes," I admitted, my heart heavy. "I had to. You said it yourself, a life for a life. "The look of betrayal on her vanishing face was unmistakable. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say something, but before she could, she disappeared completely, leaving me alone in the cool summer night. I stood there staring at the flame until it burned itself out. I felt alone, inside and out. I went back inside and out of morbid curiosity, I looked up the obituary for Lily Hastings. It stated that she had died at the age of five after falling into the frozen lake. There was no miracle. She was simply dead. I did feel remorse for Hannah. She was just trying to help me and didn’t deserve to be wiped from existence. But I hadn’t asked to sacrifice my life for her grandmother. My life had been hijacked, used, and manipulated. All I did was reclaim it. My next novel, 'Echoes of the Past,' was another critical and commercial success. The world saw the triumphant return of a favorite author, not knowing the ghosts that lingered behind my success. Out of a sense of guilt, I dedicated the novel to Hannah Sullivan, Lily Hastings, and all those forgotten. [X](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1581vef/our_search_for_a_missing_teen_uncovered_the/)

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15sy5au/i_found_a_time_capsule_with_a_letter_inside_that/

scarystories

PageTurner627

Will it Waffle?

Julia was biting her nails while staring intensely at her work laptop. The tension was so visible when her fiance Ian walked in the room, he froze for a second. "Watching another pimple popper video?" he chuckle-asked. "I know you don't have the stomach for them. That's ok. I'll marry you anyway," she replied to engage in a bit of banter before bed. This was Julia's routine: Work, cook, play with the dog, watch tv, watch videos on her phone, banter with Ian, and have sex or masturbate until falling asleep. She had an extraordinarily high sex drive. Saturday. Weekends are a mild stress for Julia. Ian travels for work most Saturdays, and Julia quite enjoys her job and seeing her coworkers. She has no hobbies aside from tv and talking with Ian and her coworkers. Every Saturday is a tiny catastrophe though. How will she pass the time? As social as she is, she struggles to make friends. This Saturday morning, that realization hit hard. As she was standing in the kitchen, she realized how alone she truly was. Even her beloved fiance couldn't truly relate to her. She has always felt alone and a little rejected. She wasn't clingy but always feared being perceived as such. "He enjoys spending time with me. We have the same sense of humor. Sex is great. Does he just tolerate me though?" Normally, these thoughts would be a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, but this morning, they somehow broke through to the forefont. Standing at the kitchen counter in a white summer dress, she broke down in tears. Ugly-crying. Scream-crying. She collapsed to the floor and curled in a ball in the corner sobbing uncontrollably muttering "I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my fucking life. I'm going to kill myself. I'm going to kill myself." Shocked and scared by the intensity of her emotions and the object of them, she ugly-cried some more until eventually, she ran out of steam. Julia got up and walked to the bedroom suddenly feeling cold as if all the blood in her extremities evaporated away. She grabbed a jacket and slippers and decided to cook some comfort food. "Alright, let's see what recipes look fun." She pulled up Tiktok and found a video on making hash browns in the waffle maker. The cooking process was surprisingly therapeutic. She decided to try something else, not even to eat, rather just for the experience of cooking. She cracked several eggs over the waffle maker. Surely enough, they waffled as well. "What else will waffle?" Julia asked herself as she stared down at her little corgi named Lemon eating his breakfast. She bent down and picked up his bowl of dog food and poured it in. Lemon enjoyed the wafflized puppy chow. Julia enjoyed her waffled... everything. She spent 4 hours that day waffling until she realized this was only a temporary relief from her feelings. Weeks went by, and everything was fine. She just had a little hiccup, she thought. One night, as she was engaging in her bedtime routine with Ian, he stopped partway through undressing and said "I'm sorry. I've been holding this back because I wasn't sure this was real or..." "Of course this is real. I love you Ian. I have some pre-wedding jitters too though, " Julia interjected. "Let me finish. I didn't know if it was real or just a fluke, but I didn't want to say anything. I think I have feelings for your sister. I still want to marry *you*, and I will never act on those feelings, but you said being completely honest and open with each other was important before we tie the knot. This is it." "WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK, IAN?!?!?! Why? Eww. God. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you telling me this?" There was a 10 second pause as Ian tried to find words. "You know what? Yes, I would like complete honesty. Something happened. What? Did you two..." Julia said as she began to cry. "No. God no. I just have feelings for her. That's all. I'll never act on them. I just think that, like her sister, she's very attractive. Come on. It was dumb for me to bring it up." Stammering, Julia stared at him for several seconds as she contemplated slapping him. That would be domestic abuse she reasoned. "This is so fucked." She got up, grabbed her keys, her purse and sandals. "I'm going to Stephanie's house! I'm going to tell her everything." She slammed the door. Seconds later, Julia re-entered and shouted "I forgot something!" She grabbed Lemon. As she walked out, she saw the waffle maker and grabbed it as well. Ian raised an eyebrow. This was the second time in 2 months Julia has sobbed uncontrollably. It was also the second time in about 15 years. She's not normally a big crier. So, when Stephanie saw her sister crying profusely, she was mortified. She rushed in to console her as one would to a child pulled out of a burning building. "Honey, what happened?" Julia told her everything. She was very close to her sister and was curious how she'd react. Much to her surprise, Stephanie didn't seem to be hiding anything. There was was no affair, but everything was still royally fucked. The following morning, Julia woke up and after a couple brief seconds of ignorant bliss, she remembered where she was and what had transpired, and it knocked the wind out of her. Stephanie already had left for work. She walked into the kitchen and made Lemon some eggs for breakfast. Then, she saw the waffle maker sitting on the table. Julia did the only thing that she knew could soothe her. She cracked some eggs over the waffle maker. Nothing. She felt nothing. So, she tried ham. She found that interesting. Ham soaked in vodka. Coleslaw. Tortillas. Mayonaise. Everything in the fridge. If it was waffle-sized, it got waffled. She realized she'll have to pay her sister back for all this and reasoned "it's fine. I have the money. Mo' money mo' waffles. Mo' money, mo waffles!!!!!!!!! Waf- waf- waffle it. Waf- waf- waffle it!" She was dancing and singing and sobbing. Lemon backed into the corner. End of Part 1/5 [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tadwe/will_it_waffle_part_2/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=2)

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15taddy/will_it_waffle/

scarystories

WhadayaBuyinStranger

Will it Waffle - Part 5

As she toyed with him, she became even more disturbed by her own behavior and worried about legal repurcussions. She took her Lemon drop out to do his business when she had an idea. "I can call 911, and your life is over... or I can make you a very special waffle. Then, I'll take your gun, untie you, and you can be on your way. Blink once for 911 and twice for the special waffle." He proceeded to blink once. "You blinked both your eyes. So, twice. Special waffle it is," Julia said with a mix of nervousness, fear, and righteous indignancy. She had collected Lemon Drop's... droppings in a bag. She dumped that into a large mixing bowl. She grabbed her scissors and gave herself another haircut. Then, she rummaged through the utility cabinet and tossed in a band-aid, a push pin, and some Elmer's glue. She proceeded to pour in a little laundry detergent and just a dash of bleach. "Lastly, a handful of salt for flavor," she said while adding what she initially planned on being the final ingredient, but she noticed something incredible. The man had a large growth on his neck. She removed the duct tape and asked what it was. "The doctor said it's benign. I've just been too scared to get it removed. I know I need to," the man said nervously. "Well, today's your lucky day." End of Part 5/5

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15te3hj/will_it_waffle_part_5/

scarystories

WhadayaBuyinStranger

IN THE PIPELINE - subtle corporate horror

Hi, My experience of getting my soul sucked. Very pleased to share this with you, I hope some may resonate with the subtle feelings of panic. **Narrated version:** [https://youtu.be/8c\_ek4l7JH0](https://youtu.be/8c_ek4l7JH0) **The text:** As I focus on the subtleties of the mundane, I notice myself diving deeper. Suddenly, I am in the chambers. Curiously looking around the dim narrowing walls, I’m struck by a feeling of strange familiarity, but the strangeness of it registers the sensations as unknown. ***\*disruption\**** I hear a subdued laughter, and as I lift my eyeballs, the forehead of my colleague pops up from behind the monitor. The thoughts explored in my mind suddenly start to fade into the atmosphere of the office, and my attention starts picking up the sticky notes and the pens and the markers and all the various office appliances on the table. You start to second-guess yourself when in deep focus, especially when there are other people around. Maybe it’s real, maybe it’s all just fantasy. — I unknowingly tell myself. I notice my curiosity itching again. The window-cleaning guy makes me feel a certain distance between me and him, and next thing I know, I’m in my head again. Suddenly, I notice a doorway, hidden at the far end of the maintenance room. Freeze! I don’t wander around forbidden territories that often, so a gentle sense of fear makes me stop and look around behind. Not many people go here, I presume only engineers and specialists come down to fix a malfunction or to check the circuits. And then there’s me: a breathing, walking virus with unknown intentions. Stepping through the reddish, cyan fluorescence I reach for the cable curtains and push them to the side, opening the door. I see bits and pieces of geometry hovering up above and all around. Filling a seemingly endless void, they sparkle rapidly, consuming my attention. Strangely, the darkness feels safe and I sense no threat, as the sight is infinitely interesting. Curiosity and wonder sharpen my focus, and now I am somewhere else. Like echoes from another room on an early morning, I hear my colleague describe the nuances of a task on handling loan data. Focus is disturbed, although not entirely, but I am forced to deal with the spillage in my consciousness. Doubts come to mind. What is this vision? I know it’s inside my head but… partially. There is this grain of reality in it that changes everything. A knowing persists that it’s more real than anything else. They would not understand it… They would not look at it with the same curiosity as me. They never did, nobody ever did. \[…\] Am I just making things up? All this mental ramble might just be a narcissistic teenage fantasy where everyone is wrong and I am the cleverest of them all. But the things that I saw behind that door seem so far away from this reality and so convincing at the same time, so much that I am not quite sure if I am just masturbating my fantasy apparatus. Am I? Am I?! Please don’t tell me that I am. I find no affirmations around me. Everything points in exactly the opposite direction. I find myself in a world where people project their values onto each other, the boss presents his requirements each morning, and the system is always demanding deliveries. Daily concerns and anxieties, hopes for the far future ahead, plans for vacations, convictions about political situations, fears about not making it, doubts in who one is, and so many words not said but uttered in the mental asylum that has become one’s mind. Not only is this environment an opposing reality to whatever I have found behind that door, but my own head has also become poisoned, my body has become fragile. I consume for the sake of numbing my urges, my desires pave the way forward. Forward back into the beginning, from where I march on into another Groundhog Day. Head is full of doubts and trash programs installed so that I can run someone else’s business. Meanwhile, the same head is filled with thousands of reasons why the value in me is not quite applicable, realistically speaking, although still very great in theory. I always get a pat on the back for the smart and clever boy that I am. And a thank you for the hard work. But I am still just potential. I am always that. Because what the tubes are sucking out of me is the mechanical labor that is needed for the system to run. Cogs spin, and I apply my stale logic to keep those diamond towers growing. What is this science fiction? Listen: quite engaging conversations all around, people smiling, there are even tender voices here and there to soothe your ears. free ASMR. don’t forget the fruit two times a week. and the cake! cake is always great. cake day once a week promising surprises sugar spiking dopamine something exciting for you and me to oscillate the week. oh, take it easy, with the sweet smile-stretching stories for a second there I thought I’m on vacation by the sea… ah, not really, not exactly. just not quite yet! my yearly getaway’s, my hard-earned holiday’s a month away, Italy awaits! Someone starts a conversation with you. Everything is blocked out of your field of consciousness, you listen to the person and ask yourself: what should I say? How should I answer? What is she thinking? What is she talking about? How is she feeling? Suddenly, you are in another person’s world, engaged in a conversation about last weekend’s activities and what is potentially up for the day after tomorrow. Why is that important? Why are you talking about it with this specific emotional affect? I don’t know and I have no time to dissect these thoughts that appeared for a millisecond, because I have to be present in this conversation. As I answer your question and end our small-talk with a joke, I get back to staring at the screen with a dull mist in my skull. What is going on? A question that struggles to be formed through the mist. It’s already almost 9AM. I haven’t started work yet and an adviser from Finland has sent me a message through Teams. I have three additional activities planned for today and trainings to be arranged with my colleague. Sigh, take a sip of coffee, and get back to work. I re — I remember something abou — ***We’ve got an update for you*** Shines a notification window at the bottom right side of the screen. I’m presented with two options: *Restart now* or *Postpone* After pausing for three seconds, I press postpone and answer the colleague from Finland.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tfycj/in_the_pipeline_subtle_corporate_horror/

scarystories

instashit3000

Will it Waffle? - Part 2

Julia grabbed her car keys and rushed off to the nearest Walmart to browse the isles for anything she could waffle. The store was a goldmine of absurd waffle-able items. The cashier, George, who checked out her items was the pensive sort. He liked to make a game of guessing what he could of someone based on what they purchased, and he was actually good at it. His proudest moment was guessing a lady was an early childhood teacher of half French and half Iranian descent having in-laws over later that same day. He was right on every account and divined it all from solely observing her and 3 items she bought. George had met his match. The items were scanned through: sausage patties, powdered milk, rice, bird feed, drain cleaner, Fanta soda, ice cream, 6 lemons, college-ruled paper, ink cartridge refills, shrimp, hand lotion, 10 Happy 1st Communion greeting cards, a box of tongue depressors, and a box of small condoms. The cashier paused for a moment and was completely dumb-founded. He usually doesn't tell the customers about his guessing game, but he had never been this clueless. "This might sound weird, but sometimes, I like to try and reckon something about the person buyin' the items based on their purchases. For the life of me, I can't even tell what ya cooking." She stared at him contemplating whether to tell him or not, feeling a tinge of shame and confusion. George broke the silence. "Ma'am. I hope you aren't gonna waffle drain cleaner." "What? No. That's... no." "Sorry ma'am. It was a joke," George quickly spat out. "Oh, ok then," Julia said while blushing and deeply embarrassed. Upon arriving home, her weird obsession had actually died down, and her feelings began resurfacing. She called her old therapist but couldn't get through; it was Sunday. She no longer felt like waffling. It seemed dumb to her, but she didn't know what else to do. Nothing worked. "This was stupid and a waste of money", she muttered. "I want to kill myself. I want to kill myself. I want to kill myself. I fucking hate my life," she muttered as an uncontrollable tic. Oddly, even though she wanted to cry, she couldn't even shed a tear. She needed another emotional stimulus to get that release. So, she called Ian and left a voicemail in a very dry manner stating "the wedding is off," and then proceeded go shut her phone off. Still nothing. She grabbed scissors and cut off strands of hair. She waffled her hair. Nothing. Staring into the waffle maker like she was staring over the ledge of a building, she envisioned putting her hand in it. Then, the fact she contemplated that scared her a little. 20 seconds later, her hand was being waffled. She shrieked and choked on her own spit while still screaming. Gagging, screaming, and writhing in pain, her dog, Lemon, ran out of the room. Simultaneously, Stephanie arrived home to find Julia sitting with her back leaned against the dishwasher, pounding her good hand against the floor while flailing her waffled hand in the air. Blood was running down her mouth and all over her shirt because she bit her tongue. "Oh God. Julia! What happened?! I'm calling 911!" Julia spent some time in a mental health hospital to get back on her feet, but when she returned home, she was alone, without friends, her ex-fiance, or a job. She stood in front of the waffle maker, grabbed the box of tongue depressors, and waffled a finger. The next day, she waffled another. She waffled all of her toes, and the bottoms of her feet. She knew if she waffled any more, it would become hard to hide. She did so anyway. She waffled multiple spots on her legs, her right arm, and her left ass cheek. She bent over in front of the waffle maker with her right eye staring into the black checkerboarded abyss. A single tear was shed, and it sizzled like bacon. Suddenly, Julia realized something that could make her feel better. "This is crazy. I don't have to do this. I can find another outlet for my feelings." She picked up the phone. "Stephanie. Can you bring Lemon over?" End of Part 2/5 [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15te200/will_it_waffle_part_3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=2)

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tadwe/will_it_waffle_part_2/

scarystories

WhadayaBuyinStranger

It was an accident...

"I didn't mean to kill her" that's all I could hear all through my mind as i watched the crimson blood on my hands shimmer in the dim light of the kitchen's single light bulb. I watched in fear as her body was dragged into the darkness as the that light bulb flickered and suddenly popped, showering the body of my young daughter in shattered glass. I felt around the darkness for her tiny body and pulled the once life filled body of the young child that brought a smile to the faces to even to grumpiest of people, into my chest as i sobbed large tears. My tears cascaded down my face and dripped onto the pale cheeks of my baby's face.I ran my fingertips over the slash that ran all the way across her tiny throat, covering my fingers in the blood of my baby. "it was an accident" I squeaked as i placed my face into her lifeless body, gripping tightly onto her. I cuddled her for what felt like hours, the tears had stopped flowing from my eyes and her little body had stained my apron with her cold unjustly spilt blood. I slowly moved upwards, causing my old bones to creak. With her frozen body in my arms, i slowly dragged my feet across the silent hallway that was once was filled with sounds of laughter and love of my daughter, and slowly staggered into her room. The rose pink walls now appeared more grey and dull. Even the toys and stuffed bears on the shelves and dressers seemed to be sad and lonely as their heads hung down. Gently, I placed my baby girl on her princess bed that i brought her for her fourth birthday which was two days ago. She was so happy when she saw it for the first time. i got her grandmother to take her to the park while i fixed up the bed for when she got home. And now she would never be able to receive another present again. I wiped one last tear away as i tucked her into bed, kissed her forehead then walked back into the hallway and into the kitchen. Quietly I pulled open the kitchen drawer and pulled out a new light bulb, leaning up to grab the broken bulb, unscrewing it and placing it in the bin. I slowly rescrew in the new light bulb and flick the switch. The kitchen was soon met with a blinding light, showing off all the blood that had been spilt today. I then bent down to pick up the knife that caused all this trouble, scraping the blade on the wooden floor as I pulled it in to the air. With a corner of my apron that didn't have any blood on it, i smeared off the blood on the blade then placed the sharp tool next to the cutting board. On the cutting board was a display of previously cut vegetables. Hesitantly, I grabbed the knife once again and started chopping more vegetables for dinner. I'm making vegetable stew. After all ,it is Baby girl's favourite.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15tesxq/it_was_an_accident/

scarystories

SquishyBoy666

Will it Waffle - Part 4

Julia took anti-anxiety medications and mixed it with some sleeping pills on some nights. This was one of those nights. Around 3 am, she woke up to the sound of her bedroom door opening. A tall thin middle-aged man removed his mask. "Brandon?" she asked. It was not Brandon, but in the drug-fuelled stress of the situation, perhaps some wires got crossed. "I'm sorry for so rudely leaving you in the middle of our date, but perhaps we can pick up where we left off" she whispered into his ear as she grabbed his crotch. Not yet processing what was happening and feeling aroused as ever, she began removing his clothes and thrust him onto the bed when she saw him drop a revolver to the ground, and she began piecing together what was happening. As she kissed him, she reached her hand into the nightstand and found a pair of handcuffs she had used with Ian and successfully cuffed him to the bed. "Don't worry. Wait right there. Things are just starting to heat up. Do you like kink?" Her violator nodded yes. She walked out of the room and came back with a waffle maker. "You could call this a kink." Julia plugged it into the outlet and set it on the nightstand along side two tongue depressors to bite and duct tape. "The fuck is this!?" the intrudor shouted. "I have a problem, Brandon. I don't feel comfortable lying. Do you?" "Look, I don't know. I'm so fucking sorry for all of this. Let's just forget about all of it. Let me go. You can keep the gun." "But then you don't get your kink." Julia put a tongue depressor horizontally on his mouth to bite onto and taped his mouth shut. "Now, I feel bad about lying to you and the other men. So, you're going to help me." She now bit onto one herself, grabbed his hand and guided it such that he burned her hands. Still grimacing, she said "Thank you. Now, I've cooked a lot of unorthodox things on here. You know what one of my first experiments was? A couple eggs. This is going to be the longest night of your life." End of Part 4/5 [Part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15te3hj/will_it_waffle_part_5/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=2)

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15te2s5/will_it_waffle_part_4/

scarystories

WhadayaBuyinStranger

Will it Waffle - Part 3

Donning long pants and a long sleeve shirt, Julia sat on the porch waiting for her little Lemon. When Stephanie showed up, she could see the despair in Julia's eyes. "Listen, Mark was talking to his boss, and there might be a new position opening up at Capital Crossing for a teller. Would you like him to put in a good word for you?" "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks," Julia softly whispered. She perked up when she saw her pup poke his head through the car window "Lemon Drop!!!" Stephanie's heart warmed to see her sister's spirits raise. "Well, I have to get going. I'll leave you two together to reconnect." Julia brought little Lemon inside and showered him in love and affection until the dog felt uncomfortable. "I need to find something productive," Julia muttered to herself. She spent the next 12 hours applying for jobs and flirting on dating apps. She needed another job and another man she reasoned. Interviewing wasn't Julia's strength, but she had no trouble getting dates. The first man she talked with, Brandon, took her out to brunch. "Not many men ask a girl out to brunch," Julia quipped as she sat down at the table. "Well, I'm not like many men. I love bacon and eggs more than life itself." "Is that so? I think we might be quite the pair then. I have a waffle tattoo on my left ass cheek." The two continued flirting and had a great time until he asked her "why do you wear gloves?" Julia froze. "Umm, well there was a home invasion. The intruder put my hands..." she faked crying and removed her gloves. At this point, they had been burnt over so many times it wasn't immediately clear it was a waffle pattern but just that they were badly burned. "I'm sorry. I want to go." As Brandon tried to apologize, she quickly darted out of the restaurant and went straight home. She felt terrible for lying to him and faking crying. It was manipulative and borderline sociopathic to fake tears like that, she reasoned. As she sat on her couch, she realized she will need to say something though. She just landed a job interview. The next day, her interview seemed to go well enough, as it was a cold day, and nobody questioned her wearing gloves. Time went on, and emotional wounds were healed. After a couple years of working and dating with no great answers to give men, as luck would have it, she did one night experience a home invasion. It had been a while since she made anyone waffles. End of Part 3/5 [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15te2s5/will_it_waffle_part_4/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=2)

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15te200/will_it_waffle_part_3/

scarystories

WhadayaBuyinStranger

I witnessed something horrifying and it still haunts me everyday.

Have you ever seen something so horrifying it could scare a literal psychopath? It happened 3 months ago. I was walking home from school absolutely wasted from PE limping as I reach my doorstep, I pull out my keys, unlocking the door as I hear faint screams from the other side. With my curiosity I open the door and place my backpack to the side, wandering around trying to listen as to where the sounds are coming from. “What are you doing?” A voice from behind startles me making me turn around quickly, it’s my brother Kevin. “What do you mean, Don’t you hear that?” I quickly reply as I keep listening for the voices-but to my surprise, they’ve disappeared. I walk back to the door shutting it and grabbing my bag throwing it over my shoulder. “Never mind, I think I’m hearing things” I add on to what I asked earlier, making him suspicious while giving me a dreadful glare. “Hm okay, but just letting you know your really weird.” He confesses, I mock what he said about me then quickly run upstairs to get started on my homework. After what seems like hours, I shove my homework into my bag as if id wish to never see it again, not even a minute later I start to hear muffled screams coming from somewhere downstairs, I quickly jolt up from my desk chair feeling like I’m loosing consciousness from standing too quickly, I run downstairs to follow the sounds. I quickly turn my head to the blank tv, that’s currently turned off since no one is downstairs besides me. Skeptical, I slowly and quietly walk over to the tv wondering if it’s malfunctioning or just my imagination again. I jerk back from the spot I was standing in, staring at the tv in absolute horror I see my brother banging on the screen completely covered in blood and his face looking all distorted but as if he was on the other side of the screen. Or matter fact, like a show is playing and he’s in it. I scream in terror as I run up the stairs calling for my mother. I run Into her room yelling for her and screaming to come downstairs. “What’s wrong? What the hell is going on?” She snaps at me completely confused at my actions. I grab her hand and run downstairs, stopping in front of the tv screen. Pointing at it I tell her, “I saw Kevin on the other side, as if he’s freaking trapped in there” I say crying out to her completely traumatized from what I saw. Her eyes go wide as she opens her mouth to speak, “you-your brother is dead. Remember?” She says with tears in her eyes and shock. What? That’s not possible if I talked to him earlier- I stop thinking and suddenly go pale as if I just saw a ghost. A shiver goes down my spine as I hear someone whisper in my ear, “she killed me.”

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15t3eq2/i_witnessed_something_horrifying_and_it_still/

scarystories

annelwaslost

Right Behind You

You don’t know me. Yet. But I know you, very well actually. I know where you live, work, play. I know what you like and dislike. I know you very well you see. Known you very a very long time at that. It’s how I know what you do. It’s how I know where you were and what you were doing. I don’t need to ask. It must have been- I think- 3 weeks ago you first saw them. Loud and grating, taking up all too much space in the aisle. The two boys almost competing who could out-tantrum the other, the hapless father trying, in vain to reign the two wailing children in. On any other day, you would have ignored them, moved on. They didn’t matter to you, not at first. Not until you saw her. She was perfect. You couldn’t look away, not as she turned the corner into the aisle, nor as she bore down on the two boys, who upon seeing her instantly cowered away in shame. Even the father shrank away in himself, away from her reproach. I was weaker then, not as aware, but I still knew you were entranced, her lingering jasmine smell and the slender curve of her neck beneath amber locks haunting the recesses of your memory. You were caught in the thralls of your obsession, as you had so often been before. How could something, someone so frail and soft looking, radiate such terror and strength, and with such ease? The question plagued your mind, dulled all other concerns. For days, weeks you wrestled with your mind. It was too soon, too risky. She was not like the others, she was local and therefore, off-limits. But still, you could not push the memory of her from your mind. For almost 2 weeks, you were possessed, any thought you had, at any time, lead back to the fleeting moment in that store. Her presence in your mind was both agony and addiction, it didn’t end. Thought became wondering. Wondering became addiction. Became obsession and hunger and mania. You had to know. You were always good at drawing the line, knowing when to stop. It’s how you’ve gone on for so long without being caught. But this new subject had entranced you, ensorcelled you with her sight and smell and the sound of her voice and breath and gait. You struggled internally; grappling for a reason, any reason, to forget her, but to no avail. Hunger, when roused, could only be sated. In a week, you had her address; two more days and you had memorised the family schedule. You knew the layout of the house a day later, and that the husband would be out of town next weekend to visit his mother. You had your moment, and your tools were ready and sharp in your car. By the time you were behind the wheel, you had fantasised on the deed a thousand times. Anticipated every detail, every soon-to-be-made cut playing in your mind, a promise of the feast to come. I saw you then, outside their home, your hands shaking, overcome with grotesque anticipation. You didn’t see me, not yet. I was still too small, weak, for you to notice. You tell yourself it was a kindness, but really you dispatched the sleeping brothers out of greed. Tonight was a feast for one. It was for you and you alone, and you would tolerate no voyeurs. With them out of the way, you made it to the main bedroom. She didn’t recognise you, none of your victims ever did. But that never stopped you before. You had come to accept confusion as part of the meal. An aperitif that preceded the carnage to come. You feasted on her rage and hate, and later terror and anguish. You filled your soul on her torment as your tools carved away at skin and sinew, turning a deaf ear to the muted pleas and prayers from your victim. She struggled the best she could against the ropes binding her hands and feet, and would have made some headway if left unattended. I suppose that’s why you cut the tendons in her arms and legs first. A lesson learned from a past meal. No matter how hard she struggled now, she could not resist or fight back. All that was left was the knives, the hooks and scalpels that peeled away at her. Arteries were clamped when exposed, another lesson on preserving the meal. Despite this, deep red still spilled from her onto the bed sheets, on your gown and tools. Though this only emboldened you. You had seen it when you first saw her, muted though it was. Somewhere deep down in here being, some tangible wellspring that radiated power. It had subdued her children with its presence alone, and you had basked in it only briefly. But that was enough to intoxicate you, to begin your mad obsession with her, with the thing you felt in her. You needed to know, to find the unknowable radiance she exuded back in the store. So you searched for it, under severed tendons and exposed nerves. You peeled away muscle and fat, stopping only at the exposed bone. You rummaged meticulously through organ and gristle as her cries dimmed. Still you could not find, still it eluded you. I could feel you, your desperation, your hunger, even then, when I was still small. This gaping maw at the core of your being that could only be sated, fulfilled by the light and life that grew ever dimmer before you. Once more, you had found the long sought radiance you so desperately craved, only to watch it snuffed before you could fully gorge yourself on its resplendence. Once more you were denied. You left. Just as swift and silent as you had come in. I watched you, gathering your tools and resetting the alarms. You didn’t see me then, not as I saw you. Saw the indifference in your gait and expression. As if the carnage you had left behind didn’t exist; as if the countless scenes you had left before, just like this one, didn’t exist. It still eludes me- how you first learned to disregard the collage of viscera and death. The violence and cruelty- I know those came to you gradually, over time. But if there was anything about me that scared me- used to scare me- it was how you felt nothing after you were done. No shame when you imagined the grief that would soon follow. No paranoia when the police drew too close for your liking. Almost as if it ceased to exist to you, that the world in itself was mere intervals between your grisly night-time dining. Perhaps it didn’t, least not to you. You didn’t know that the husband found them first, I imagine. That the police knew already, at a first glance that they wouldn’t find you. You most definitely didn’t know- or even care- that the man never recovered, though who could, from such a sight. The most horrendous part? I was there on one of the nights you were home, scrolling through your channels. All of a sudden there he was, his photo. The grieving father, who came home to his home, sons and wife violated like that. No doubt the tragedy broke him. No surprise that he tried everything, everything to erase the memory of your work from his mind. Turning to his work, then to drink, finding no escape. Drowning in the memories and the alcohol he used to smother them. Until he could run no more. Then all that remained was the last option, the most desperate option. Hidden in his office, loaded and next to another bottle. He took one last drink. One last look at them. He shot himself. The news said that he had left no note, and that police were still no closer to finding you. You changed the channels. You don’t know me. Yet. But I know you. I have been watching you. Observing. Learnt from you everything that I know. How to cut just the right way to hurt the most. The proper method to silence screams. The most efficient way to bind hands and feet. All of these things and more I learnt from your demonstration. I can’t wait to show you. Everything I am- all that you’ve taught me, I owe it all to your guidance. I am ready, I have learnt everything I needed and I can’t wait to get started. Seems fitting that I begin with you. Nothing more poetic than a baptism in blood- and what better way to usher in my birth than with your passing. Don’t worry, I’ll continue your work. It won’t be long now. How I found you? You taught me that. Like I said I said, I learnt a lot from you- how to bypass alarms and dispose of dogs. They were adorable- and sadly, in the way. Don’t worry though, they didn’t feel a thing. I’m not a monster. I’ve known you a long time, as long as I can remember, actually. I beheld you at your first kill, bloodied and brilliant in that basement. You wouldn’t have noticed me then, riding the high of your life, while I was this small frail thing. I don’t know how I came to be, or why I remain, but I know that I was bound to you in some way. So I crawled after you weak and infantile as I was. But I’ve grown since then, stronger and smarter with each of your outings. I can’t wait to show you what I can do. I wonder what will happen then. Will I fade into nothing, or will a small thing be born from my deeds as I was born from your works? Would they seek to learn from me? Would I be a good teacher? I’m almost there now. I can hear your breath settling, regaining your focus. I can’t blame you after your momentous night. I can smell the cleaning agents scouring the trace blood from your clothes and tools, under your nails. I can see your shadow, growing larger as it nears the corner. Any moment you’ll turn now, to the hallway. To me. You don’t know me. Yet But I know you.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15t4tol/right_behind_you/

scarystories

SlowBrn292

My mother never allowed me in the basement today I found out the horrifiying truth why.

My mother never allowed me in the basement today I found out the horrifiying truth why. My sister died when I was 8 years old. I was very interested in her death. One day I asked my mother why did my sister die. She replied: stop asking this nonsense, everytime when I asked her. I knew she was hiding something from me. I always wanted to go to the basement, but my mother always didn’t let me go there. I always argued with her and sometimes she would throw chairs at me. I needed to go down there, I always told myself. Something was definetly off with her. Sometimes I would hit her because she didn’t tell me. One day I went to my friend’s house. We talked about it and found an idea. We would go in the basement when she would leave, but my mother was almost always home. So we didn’t have that much opportunities. One day my mother left and we took some time to get ready. When we unlocked the door she just came in the house. After getting several chairs in my head she stopped. We got the opportunity finaly after a few weeks. When we went in we saw something very shocking. It was my… Sister…

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15si2l2/my_mother_never_allowed_me_in_the_basement_today/

scarystories

Scary_stories1

Life For A Life

The wind howled outside as Samantha, Gretchen, and Melissa sat in the dimly lit living room of the old house where they once spent their high school years. It was the ten-year reunion, but there was an evident discomfort in the air. Melissa hesitated before asking, “Do you guys...do you ever think about Emily?” Gretchen rolled her eyes. “It was a decade ago, Melissa. Why bring that up now?” Samantha shifted uncomfortably. “Because… Because ever since I moved back to town, I've been seeing things. Hearing things.” Melissa nodded slowly. “Me too. And I've been having dreams. Always about Emily.” A gust of wind pushed open the windows, making the curtains dance violently. The room grew cold. “I closed those windows,” Samantha muttered, getting up to shut them. “This house is just old.” Gretchen chuckled nervously, “And probably haunted.” They all laughed, but the laughter was empty. Suddenly, the lights flickered, and a voice echoed throughout the room, “Why did you do it?” Samantha shrieked, “Who's there?” “Why did you hurt me?” The voice was unmistakably Emily’s. Gretchen was pale, “This is just a prank. Someone's playing a prank on us.” The temperature dropped further, and a shadow formed in the center of the room. Emily's spectral figure appeared, her eyes hollow, and her voice dripping with pain. “Why, Samantha? Why, Gretchen? Why, Melissa?” Tears filled Samantha’s eyes, “Emily, I’m so, so sorry. It was stupid. We were just kids.” Emily's shadowy figure pointed at Melissa, “You were the worst. You started it all.” Melissa sobbed, “I never thought it'd go that far. I never thought... you'd…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. Gretchen, trying to be defiant, shouted, “Why are you here? What do you want?” Emily's voice was soft, yet chilling, “Life for a life.” The next morning, Melissa was found hanging in her bedroom, a note next to her, confessing her guilt over Emily's death. Two nights later, Samantha was woken by a whisper in her ear. "Life for a life." She looked around, her room bathed in an unnatural glow. In the corner, Emily's ghostly figure stood, silently watching. “Please, Emily,” Samantha pleaded. “I regret everything! Please don’t hurt me!” Emily didn’t respond. Instead, she just pointed to Samantha's sleeping pills on her bedside table. A week after Samantha's overdose, Gretchen was the last one left. She knew Emily would come for her. She tried to leave town, but the roads seemed to loop back, always bringing her back to that haunted house. One evening, as Gretchen sat in her living room, the room went cold. Emily appeared. “Your friends felt the weight of their guilt,” Emily whispered, “Do you?” Gretchen, tears streaming down her face, nodded, “Every day. I can't escape it.” “Then free yourself.” The next morning, the town awoke to news of another tragedy. Gretchen was found in the bathtub, her wrists slit. Years later, the tales of the haunted house and Emily's revenge became a legend in the town. They said that on some nights, you could still hear the whispered regrets of Samantha, Gretchen, and Melissa, forever trapped with Emily, a grim reminder of the weight of guilt and the cost of cruelty.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15takzp/life_for_a_life/

scarystories

EfficiencyLeading940

Why am i the only one to see it?

This is a scary story so if you get scared easily, I would scroll if I were u. Every house I’ve lived in has had some type of paranormal activity but my house now has been the worst it’s ever been, me and my family have lived here for 6 years now, this stuff has only been happening for a year now, we live in a double wide but we built a basement under the house because my house is 3 bedrooms and we have a family of 5, my room was upstairs but I would still go downstairs sometimes and I always seen figures in the corner of my eyes, I was little and always ignored it but a few months ago I wanted to turn the basement into my room sense my sister moved out and my brother moved upstairs, I had to do a lot of cleaning and before I made complete changes i decided to sleep down there, the first night was fine but the second night I had a voice In my head just telling me to go upstairs it was just a gut feeling so I did, we have a gate on our stairs so the animals don’t go down there and so I had all of my stuff opening the gate and I heard a loud dark voice saying “ get back here and go to bed “ and something tried to grab my ankle I seen a hand but it went through me and i think it is because i was baptized at age 4. About a week after that I tried to ignore it and I was down there cleaning and I had lit a candle and at around 12 a.m. I had remembered I never blew it out so I walked over to the stairs and I touched the 1st step and I seen her, she was tall, all black even a black dress except for her eyes, they were dark red and she had long pointer fingers, long black here and she was staring at me just waiting for me to come down, I never did and I made my brother go blow out the candle, ever since then I never went back down there, I refuse to. But now, there’s recently been an old man spirit, I’ve never seen him but I’ve heard him, he doesn’t hurt anything so I ignore him but a few weeks ago I seen a dog in my front yard, that was pretty normal my neighbors dogs aren’t trained that well so they make there way over to my house but the thing was it wasn’t their dogs so I just thought my new neighbors got a dog and i had my mom check the cameras and there wasn’t a dog there, I forgot about it until 3 days ago I was sitting in my living room alone at around 1 a.m. no one was awake and I seen the dog in my house coming towards me, it got about 2 feet close and just disappeared and I heard the old man’s voice say “ sorry he got off his leash “ as if it was a real dog, I’m the only one who can see these things, to this day I still see the women from downstairs staring at me from my living room.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15t04vw/why_am_i_the_only_one_to_see_it/

scarystories

Ur_weird123

Wildfire

The sun was but a heartbeat away from rending the sky asunder with its radiant rays when it all began. Thick, oily smoke slithered like a malicious serpent from the shadowed groves, weaving its malevolent tendrils into the open pastures that stood as fragile barriers between our humble homes and the wilderness beyond. Goats, sheep, and cows, those placid grazers that should have been relishing the morning's verdant offerings, scattered like frightened spirits back to their pens, their alarmed bleats weaving a symphony of panic that roused slumbering dogs into a cacophony of primal howls. A symphony only understood by the woods themselves and fatally ignored by men. Birds burst from their leafy perches, painting the dim-lit sky with a somber veil, a dark exodus too swift to admire as it swiftly dissolved into the farthest reaches of the horizon. Early risers, the calloused hands of farmers, surveyed their surroundings with uneasy glances, sensing a disquieting undercurrent within the air—an enigmatic presence that cast a pall over their spirits and whispered portents down their spines. But the duties of the day beckoned, a relentless demand that relegated these intangible forebodings to the depths of their minds, only to be resurrected when fate's die had already been cast. A scent, evanescent and haunting, wafted on the breeze — a whiff of charred wood, perhaps the preamble to some forthcoming feast, most thought, without even glancing beyond their noses towards the creeping menace that rolled over the horizon. From curtained windows, eyes peered toward the woodlands, beckoning their beloveds to witness the surreal spectacle that the heavens were unveiling. Scarlet, amber, and golden clouds twirled above the canopy, a sunrise never before witnessed, a spectacle none had dared to imagine perilous. The heat swept in with an urgency, a precursor of scorching days yet the hour had come prematurely, an alarm in its own right, brushed aside by minds engrossed in their mundane matters. It was sudden, or so it seemed, though the omens had strewn their breadcrumbs throughout the morning. Ebony plumes ascended, like a shroud swathing the heavens, casting their consuming darkness over the town's streets, smothering those who could not outpace its relentless advance. The plaintive cries of beasts faded, their place usurped by the screams of souls who moments earlier stood entranced by the mesmerizing ballet unfolding on the distant horizon. "Buckets! Fetch more buckets!" A man bellowed, darting into and out of the smoke's all-encompassing veil. The resilient among them dashed between wells and fountains, a desperate relay race for salvation, casting bucket after bucket into the obsidian haze. A futile effort though. The blaze that had ignited as a mere whisper lost amid the screams, evolved into a virulent roar, its searing breath consuming the green tapestry and transmuting it to naught but seething embers. Amidst the ebony miasma, flames of infernal orange clawed skyward, illuminating faces contorted with terror. Some crumpled to their knees, beseeching benevolence from whatever deity might deign to heed, while others, hounded by their past misdeeds, begged absolution before being ushered into realms beyond I dashed from point to point, wrenching ashen faces from the ravenous smog, extracting bodies from homes destined to join the pyre. I pressed on, despite my burning lungs with smoke and exhaustion, hacking and gasping for each breath, every inhalation laden with ash and desperation. Through the swirling tempest, I witnessed the reckless, darting toward the flames, tethered more to their forsaken possessions than to their fleeting lives. Once or twice, I was thrust into the blaze by desperate mothers' pleas to save their offspring — children who by then had transformed into ashes by the insatiable wrath of the flames. The ruin unfurled with swiftness, lives erased and futures ruptured by the insurmountable inferno, mine among them. All was done that could be done, and in the wake of impending annihilation, the village evacuated – some resisting with every ounce of their essence, others vacating with eyes glazed, souls hollowed. I bore witness as the flames engulfed my dwelling, consuming its façade in a malevolent embrace, crumbling its form to a smoldering ruin. Amidst the infernal maw, a shadow stirred. An instinctual impulse propelled me back into the conflagration, yet my momentum halted as swiftly as it had commenced. Amid the blaze, a phantom entity moved — neither smoke nor flesh. Its strides were measured, deliberate, as though oblivious to the cataclysmic tempest that enshrouded it. After a momentary pause, its head pivoted and fixated upon me. Despite the smog's concealing shroud, its gaze pierced me with a malevolence that struck like an icicle in the marrow of my bones. I strove to retreat, yet my feet felt as if shackled by tendrils of dread. The entity advanced, a creature driven by bestial hunger, its approach marked by a feral and predatory grace. It halted, poised at the smoke's edge, a space too dense for me to discern its face. It cocked its head for a spell, before, like a serpent poised to strike, lancing its arm forth from the murk. Instinctively, I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut, praying for a swift release, but naught came, not instantly at least. Tentatively, my gaze reopened and there it lay – a mere step away – a hand charred to cinder, its skeletal index curling like a beckoning talon, an invitation from the beyond. Uncertain of any other course, I drew closer, heartbeats pounding in my chest like a funeral dirge. Dread coursed through me as I inched toward the figure, feeling like I was taking part in a macabre dance with destiny. As I bridged the distance, its touch brushed my cheek, a paradox of gentleness and icy decay. The flesh, crisped and chilled, left an imprint on my senses, like a forgotten memory sparking into life. Then, a thought, or perhaps a command, surged from the depths, a compulsion not of my own origin. It whispered of stepping closer, into the very heart of those voracious flames. With every fiber, I resisted it, a primal struggle against the seductive pull. My feet quivered, and the sinews of my resolve stretched taut like fraying threads. I stood as a bulwark against my own undoing, a barrier between me and the relentless flames that sought to claim me. Just as the abyss seemed poised to welcome me within its fiery maw, a solitary tear cascaded down my cheek, a lone act of defiance against the dire enchantment. That tear met the creature's hand, and as their contact ignited, a searing agony coursed through my flesh, branding it with blistering torment. A cacophony of anguish, both mine and the phantom's, melded into a discordant symphony of suffering. The tortured entity recoiled, its howl a crescendo of misery that pierced the air, a lament for its lost dominion over my spirit. Now that the shroud of influence was lifted, I sprinted from the fire's infernal embrace, each stride carrying me farther from the roiling tempest that hungered for my soul. Behind me, the roar of flames receded to a distant whisper, like the tormenting echoes of a nightmare fading with the dawn. Ahead, the wails of sirens pierced the air, a cacophonous ballet of emergency. Scarlet trucks streaked past, their urgency narrowly avoiding my form in their relentless pursuit of extinguishing the fiery malevolence that had gripped the land It had been a wildfire, unprecedented in its ferocity, had devoured the landscape, its origins shrouded in the nebulous cloak of mystery, they said. Yet, in the depths of my being, I bore the answers that none else could fathom. The cause and the originator – both veiled in shadow – were as familiar to me as the echoes of my own heartbeat. For it had sought to summon me just as I had been ensnared by its charred allure. In the end, as I stood amidst the chaos, one truth remained— The knowledge of something harbored in the shadows, awaiting its moment to unfurl like a malevolent blossom. A secret that lay hidden beneath the veneer of our fragile reality.

https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/15t39d9/wildfire/

scarystories

imbolicx