Scary Story Time

Scary Story Time - March 2012

Hey guys, today is the 13th of the month, so as I promised, here's another scary story from the internet!

Quick disclaimer: I’m a really big fan of horror movies and scary stories. Recently I’ve been finding a lot of interesting little scary stories written anonymously by people on the internet, so I decided to start sharing some of the ones I like. You should know, before you read on, that I did not write any of these stories, unless otherwise noted. You should also know that I won’t always be posting that I enjoy 100%. There could be a ten page story that I post because I like one sentence of it. In that case, I assume I’ll explain why I posted horse-shit and what merit I see in it. Sometimes, I’ll post “scary” stories that I hate, think are stupid, or maybe even funny. But more than that, you should really know that some of these stories may be somewhat graphic, so just steel yourself for anything, especially poor spelling and grammar (I don’t edit these stories). No matter what, though, I hope you enjoy them too, and if you know any stories or sources, please share them with me. Also, if you have any requests, just ask, I have a huge archive of this stuff!

Alright, so this month I've got one of the most bizarre, but nontheless plausible stories from my collection. This one is pretty freaky, but instead of being truly scary, it's more unsettling and unnerving. When I picture the man in the story, I basically think of every weird person I've ever met in my life. And there are a lot. I feel like most people are not that far from being completely insane. Think about how many people share a few too many details of their personal lives with you. Think of every person who has cornered you at a party or every clerk at a store who has rambled on and on. Think about every a stranger remembers you from the last time they saw you (We actually discuss it in the podcast I host (click here for part one, click here for part two).

It's incredibly common, and it's not hard to imagine that taken to the extreme. You always hear stories about somebody being stalked. Here's another, I hope you like it:

The Peacoat Man

Last fall I moved up into the city with a bunch of my friends and boyfriend, and took a semester off to do pretty much whatever I wanted and have a job on the side to keep me under a roof. I held a semi-okay-but-not-so-much job in the center of the city, and half of my shifts were until midnight or 1 AM. I am a small girl you see, I am 5' 0" and 108lbs. Wouldnt take too much to scoop me up and run away. One night, my store was really dead, but of course my money hungry manager made me stay and keep the entire building open. I was by myself downstairs working as a cashier, doing nothing except bouncing some glitter ball I snagged from the novelty rack. I heard the west entrance door open, and a man with a black pea coat walked in with his eyes fixated on me with the creepiest half smile I ever saw. He never looked away even walking over, and me, getting nervous kept looking away and every time I'd look back hed still be walking in my direction looking straight at me. Eventually I cracked a smile, but it was more of a nervous smile rather than a welcome. He then seemed to get extremely excited, with the craziest smile across his face and said, "Oh, well good evening miss" I laughed nervously and asked him if he needed help finding anything since it was 11:30 at night, so wandering around at this time wasn't usually the case. People that normally came in at this time usually knew exactly what they wanted. He, did not. He said he did not, but as he walked by me he still had his head turned staring at me smiling like a little kid who just heard the ice cream truck. I had my earpiece in, and let the other employees know there was a bit of a weirdo in the store and I thought it would end at that. About 20 minutes later, he came back around, creepily bouncing in his walk, on his tiptoes to look at me past the shelving with that smile on his face. As I watched him literally skip over to my register, I felt kind of sick. Every so often Id get a random creep, but this guy stuck out for some reason. He came up to me and pushed a red journal in my direction. I tried to avoid making much eye contact with him, but as I was looking down at the journal I could tell he was staring at me. He began telling me I was beautiful, and how I could be stuck working in a store like this, late at night, all by myself. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and asked, "So, you live around here?" I said not really, and work was a bit of a hike for me, and left it at that. He then kept asking about where I lived, and tried to 'sneakily' ask how I got to work everyday. I avoided answering any questions directly, or gave him pretty vague answers, but he just wasnt having it. He then began telling me about things he was going to do to his 'new wife' and I didnt really know what to say. I was all by myself. Eventually he left, and there had been a customer behind a shelf that had heard everything and asked if I was alright. I said I was a little creeped out, but sometimes I'd get people like this, so I didnt want it to bother me very much. But I was certainly wrong about this guy. I got out of work at 1 AM, walked the same 4 blocks to the train like I always do, and waited underground for 25 minutes for the next train. I was all alone, with my oversized messanger bag and my phone in my hand. Nothing really seemed out of the usual, but I was always on my toes when I got out that late because where I was located was full of great people during the day, but as soon as the sun went down it was like the zombies would come out. I told my roommates and boyfriend about the guy as soon as I got home, and that I had to get to bed since I had to work the next day. So anyway, whatever, I wake up really late, get all my shit together and run out the door. I walked about 2 blocks to get to the train, and I realized that I had forgot my phone. I neeeever forget my phone. I fumbled through my purse hoping it was just at the bottom somewhere since it was black and so was the inside of my bag. I groaned and rolled my eyes, and when I looked up, I saw the man in the peacoat across the tracks looking at me. I was 6 miles away from work. Nobody would ever get on or off this stop unless they lived here. My stomach instantly dropped, and I began walking in the opposite direction towards the townline with streets full of people. Alrighty. Well anyway, now I was kind of panicking but I didnt really show it. I just kept walking. Where I was walking towards was a very well-lit area with little shops up and down the street. My favorite Halloween store was only around a 15 minute walk, so I thought I'd head there for the time being. Halfway through, I tripped on a lopsided sidewalk block. I didnt fall flat on my face or anything, but I did look up to see if anyone saw me. I looked across the street, and the peacoat man was there. But when I looked over, he turned around and was pretending to look for something with his back turned towards me. And at the time, I couldnt even think of what was 'the right thing to do'. I was just nervous. And I had no phone. I got to the Halloween store and decided to stay in there for awhile, and put a bunch of baskets together for my family back home when I went to visit them. Halloween is bigger in my family than Christmas. I was probably in there for about an hour and a half, and when I walked out it was nearly dark. I turned the corner in which another train stop was, and the peacoat man was standing in front of the store reading a newspaper. Now I knew I was 100% in trouble. This had been a total of 2 hours now since I had left my house, and it occurred to me that I didnt contact work. And the way I had turned from the first train stop, there was NO WAY this guy 'just so happened' to be going the same direction and be waiting the same amount of time outside of each place. I ran into a drugstore and just looked around a little bit more. I looked at everyone shopping in there and wondered who I should tell. For some reason I felt like if I told somebody what was happening, they wouldnt believe me or take me seriously. I just started thinking negatively while really starting to panic. I walked outside, and there again, across the street was the man waiting on a bench looking straight at me. I started speeding up down the road, and noticed he was doing the same on the opposite side from the corner of my eye. He had that same smile he had the night before, and I let out a little yelp that I tried covering up, and my eyes started swelling up. I ran to the closest building I could find, and it was some sort of closed doctors office. I shook the door handle but it was locked. I saw somebody behind the counter and I started banging on the windows telling them to let me in, as I see the guy getting faster on the other side of the street not that far down from me. Finally I get the guys attention and he lets me in. I ran behind the desk and called 911, and through the blinds I could see the man standing there in front of the building. Two minutes later the police come, and just like that the man is gone. The only way I could describe the man was that he had a black peacoat. He was too generic looking. The first cop I talked to thought I was just some girl who probably met him at a bar, while I'm pleading to get me out of there and Im not even old enough to step foot in a bar, nor do I even drink. I had never seen this man in my life other than him coming into work the night before. I get into one of the cop cars, and he starts driving around in the opposite direction of the other cruisers that split up. We drove around, as did the other cruisers, and nobody of the description was seen. The cop lets me off at a stop and waits until the train comes so I can head to work a few hours late. I get on the train, and it was very obvious I had been crying. 15 minutes pass, and its finally my stop. The peacoat man was sitting on a bench on the outbound. I remember thinking, 'No fucking way is this happening, youve got to be serious'. A good amount of people got off the train with me, and I wasnt sure if he was aware I got off the train. I knew there were only two options, he either had no idea I got off yet, or he watched as each car came in and was now pretending he didn't notice me, hoping Id be dumb enough to just keep going. He looked up turning his head slightly sideways and just grinned at me, knowing exactly what he was doing, and also fully aware I knew what was going on. Again, in a panic, I didn't know what to do. I ran to the closest train possible, which wasn't even my line, and got on it anyway. I was the only one in the car, and I sat on the floor in the back by the stairs by myself and cried. Eventually I had to switch lines to get back home, and I did not see the man. When I got off at my stop, I ran for my life up the street hoping he wasnt already waiting for me like he was the other 3 places. He was always a step ahead of me. I got home, and all the lights were off. I started pouting up the stairs when one of my roommates appeared out of the corner and said all the others had left searching for me since work had called hours before saying I never showed up. Anyway, skipping a bunch of dumb stuff, I still had work the next day, regardless of being completely exhausted. I made sure I had my phone, I was walked to the train stop, and luckily my shift started midday. Work is fine, and then it got dark. The 'employee rotation' made it my turn to be at the front of the store. About an hour in, the stores dead again, and there I am standing and bouncing that same stupid ball blankly staring out the window. And who do I see meeting eyes with me all the way at the end of the street? The peacoat man. My mouth dropped as I watched him look inside to see there were other people working. He had that stupid fucking grin on his face, but shook his head as if he were saying, 'youre lucky'. I told one of the supervisors, and he said he wouldnt call the police if I werent 100% sure. How in gods name would I forget that face by now? I ran out of work, 4 hours into my shift, took a taxi home and never went back. I lost my job, but I didnt even care. Weirdly enough, I was right for the most part what I had thought earlier. Every person I had approached about the man, either didnt believe my story was what I claimed, or 'maybe' it was something else. I never went near that part of the city again, nor did I see the peacoat man ever again. :( Just like last time I left out what the journal said by mistake. It said, 'I married a virgin, isn't that wonderful?'

That story is too fucking awesome. Aside from the last line which sucks and doesn't really make sense, I get completely engrossed in it. It just evokes a sense of paranoia, feeling trapped, and the unexplained that I think is universally understandable. In a lot of ways, actually, it reminds me of the story in THIS POST. You never find out what the guy's deal actually is.

It's enough to make you want to look over your shoulder.

Now I'm getting all spooked. I bet you are too. But calm down. Here, I'll help you. This is a picture of a pig eating an ice cream cone:

And here he is with crumbs on his face!

(Photo credit: Cute Overload)

All better. I hope you guys enjoyed Scary Story Time this month, look forward to it again in April! If you need more spooky stuff, just click on the "Scary Story Time" category in the sidebar to get previous installments, or if you want more lighthearted spooky stuff, check out the episode of my podcast Will and Bobby Know Everything centered on The Supernatural! You can also find WBKE on iTunes!

Jury Duty and The Stenographer

A month ago I got a summons in the mail stating that I would have to go to the local courthouse for jury duty. Two days ago, I went.

For that month long wait, I probably thought about the upcomming date at least twice a day. I wasn't pumped about missing a day of work, and I definitely wasn't excited about the possibility of being selected for a case.

The night before I went, I found out that they were actively trying to select the jury for the Tyler Clementi case.

I got more nervous.

I asked my girlfriend, Allie, if she would drop me off at the courthouse, and on the way there, we listened to the radio, when, amazingly enough, an NPR reporter brought up the case! He said that they were having a difficult time assembling a jury for the case, because many of the potential juror's had a viewpoint that got them instantly dismissed.

While Allie and I stared at each other in amazement, the reporter elaborated that many of the jurors believe that the existence of the trial itself suggests that the defendant must be guilty of something. Why would they have a trial unless he did something to warrant it?

There it was. The key to my freedom.

We pulled up to the courthouse where a line of half-awake zombies wrapped around the block, and I could see several Court TV news vans gearing up to report on the big trial.

A little more confident of my dismissal, I hopped on the line.

15 minutes later, I sat in a huge room watching a quick instructional video about how we are serving our country by appearing for jury duty. It looked exactly like every dystopian future I've ever seen in a movie. Just footage of a man's head explaining to us how lucky we are for living where we do, and how we must give back to our country.

Another 15 minutes later, a few of us, split off from the massive pool of jurors, are stuffed into an elevator, on the way to a court room to learn what case we'll be interviewed for. I rehersed my story. I practiced the lines in my head.

"Well why are we here unless some of the charges are true?"

The moment I entered the room, everything changed.

First, we weren't being interviewed for the Tyler Clementi case, which made me breath a sigh of relief, and then realize that I would have to come up with a new excuse.

Second, I almost instantly stopped worrying about that the moment I noticed the court stenographer.

She was fascinating.

Either superhuman or subhuman.

Possibly a ghost.

More likely a zombie.

Sunken eyes, sallow skin, long spindly Nosferatu fingers.

I have no idea why her typewriter thing had such a small keyboard, but her frightening goblin fingers flew over the little keys, while paper the width of a standard receipt spewed out of the back. Why don't they use regular paper? Do they have teeny filing cabinets?

As she typed, her empty eyes fluttered around in her hollow skull. They found me, and stayed. She had chosen me.

To be fair I was staring right at her, likely with a mask of horror on my face, so I can't blame her for staring back.

I still don't know what I was really looking at, though.

Her life is based on converting the sounds she hears into words on a page. Without a break. For hours. There's no way that she has a mind. It would get in the way!

She's just a funnel. Sound goes in her ears and becomes an electrical impulse which flows down her arms and out of her fingertips. She can't possibly process all the legal bullshit that's being hurled at her without end.

Why don't they just use a recorder? She's basically a modern equivalent of the birds in The Flintsones movie that are meant to "record" conversations just by remembering everything everyone said!

She's not real! She's an animal who serves a singular purpose.

Speaking of being an animal, she must be completely wild outside of that courthouse, right?!

From 5:00 in the afternoon until 7:00 the next morning, I bet she's chugging whiskey, joy riding, and hitting mailboxes with a baseball bat.

She must have SO much pent up energy.

It's either that, or she's just as hollow outside of work and she walks around staring at everybody, listening in on conversations and reflexively moving her fingers in the air, phantom-typing.

Maybe they roll her chair into a closet at the end of the work day, and she sleeps in there.

Maybe I'm just wrong and that's not a person. She's a very sophisticated machine used to transcribe conversations, and they wanted it to look human.

They almost got it right.

I kind of hope that she has some sort of effect on what she writes. I hope she's able to add something personal. I hope the transcription of my interview went something like this:

"Judge: Can you think of any reason why you would not be right for this case?"

"Fat Moron: I can't afford to miss work."

"Judge: Fair enough, you're dismissed."

"Fat Moron lumbers out of the room."

"Someday I will absorb his soul."

Scary Story Time - February, 2012

Hey guys, before we get into the story, I have a quick announcement. In light of finding out how many Friday, the 13ths we'll be experiencing in 2012, and due the the fact that I had decided to post a scary story on each one of them, I've had an idea: Instead of just randomly posting these things whenever I feel like it, I'm going to turn it into a monthly feature.

On the 13th of every month, you can expect a new Scary Story Time! I'm going to stop numbering them though, which will help, because sometimes, instead of posting a long story, I might post several short ones. And that will get clumsy. So now I'll just label each post by it's month and year, as you can see from the title of this post.

Also, at the very base of this post, look for the "Scary Story Time" tag that I'll place on each SST. By clicking on that tag, you'll have a quick consolidated list of every SST I've posted.

And finally, don't forget that JUST YESTERDAY, Bobby and I posted a BRAND NEW episode of our podcast Will and Bobby Know Everything centered on The Supernatural! So basically, once you're done with this creepy story, you should immediately search for the episode on iTunes or Stitcher, click HERE to read my post about the episode, or click HERE to listen right from your browser!
Now on to the story:
Quick disclaimer: I'm a really big fan of horror movies and scary stories. Recently I've been finding a lot of interesting little scary stories written anonymously by people on the internet, so I decided to start sharing some of the ones I like. You should know, before you read on, that I did not write any of these stories, unless otherwise noted. You should also know that I won't always be posting that I enjoy 100%. There could be a ten page story that I post because I like one sentence of it. In that case, I assume I'll explain why I posted horse-shit and what merit I see in it. Sometimes, I'll post "scary" stories that I hate, think are stupid, or maybe even funny. But more than that, you should really know that some of these stories may be somewhat graphic, so just steel yourself for anything, especially poor spelling and grammar (I don't edit these stories). No matter what, though, I hope you enjoy them too, and if you know any stories or sources, please share them with me. Also, if you have any requests, just ask, I have a huge archive of this stuff!

From the Peephole

There was a male college student living by himself in an old apartment.  There was a small hole in his room’s wall, and he could peek into the next room from there.  His next-door neighbor was a young woman.  The woman apparently wasn’t aware of the peephole, so the man thought himself lucky and fell into a pattern of peeping on her.

Then, one day…

Around 3am, the man woke up to the sound of shuffling.  Wondering what it was, he realized that it was coming from next door.  Maybe she brought home a guy?  Feeling his excitement mount, the man looked through the peephole.  The room next door also had the lights off so he couldn’t see that well, but he could see two shadows for sure.  The man felt the thrill well inside him, thinking This is it! when he noticed something was off.

The big shadow that he assumed was the man kept moving, but the woman wasn’t moving at all.

When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that the man was punching the woman.  The woman seemed to be be gagged, so even if she wanted to scream all she could do was grunt.  In the end, he couldn’t even hear the groaning anymore.  Then the man’s shadow left the room.

A home intruder!

The man decided to call the police, but he stopped in his tracks with the phone in his hands.  If he reported this to the police, his peephole would be discovered.  Wanting to protect himself, the man wavered.

Within a week the police showed up at the apartment.  Apparently, the woman really was killed.  Inevitably, the police found the peephole and asked the man if he’d seen anything.  

The man replied, “I didn’t even realize there was a hole in the wall.  I never noticed anything unusual that day.”

He was asked several more questions, but it didn’t seem that the police suspected him of anything.  He couldn’t forget having witnessed the murder, but the guilt of not reporting it to the police quickly evaporated.  Even two weeks later, the culprit was still on the loose.

Then, one day…

Around 3am, the man woke up to the sound of shuffling again.  However, ever since the incident next door, no new tenants had come to live there.  Even so, the sound was definitely coming from next door.  Trembling, he peeked through the hole, but he didn’t see anything moving.  Thinking it was his mind playing tricks on him, he began to move away from the hole.

Suddenly, as if trying to fill up the small hole completely, a wide-open bloodshot eye appeared.  The man could only stare back, frozen with fear.

Then, a raspy woman’s voice rang through the silence.

“You saw, didn’t you?”

THE END

Holy shit, that's a hell of a story. My hearts pounding. I want more scary stuff...I WANT to listen to Will And Bobby Know Everything - Episode 5: The Supernatural, but I'm afraid I might have a heart attack! I'm sure you're having the same problem, so here's a good pallet cleanser to calm your nerves before you move on to WBKE:


Phew, that's better. Now on to WBKE Episode 5!
Seeya!

WBKE - Episode 5: The Supernatural

Turn on the lights.

Make sure the door is locked.
This week Will and Bobby Know Everything is delving into the topic of the supernatural.
Death.
Ghosts.
Abandoned factories.
This week's host Alex Silverii brings to Bobby and me tales of the disturbing things left behind by the previous owners of his family's house.
I tell one of the most terrifying stories known to man.
And Bobby is too masculine and rational to entertain such bullshit.
Listen to it, it's a fucking hoot. And a holler. And a SCREAM!!!
Will and Bobby Know Everything - Episode 5: The Supernatural is now available on iTunes (click here) and Stitcher. Load it up in your phone for later, or stream it through your browser right now (by clicking here)!
Please enjoy, please subscribe, and please tell your friends!
And don't forget to leave comments here or send feedback to WillAndBobby@gmail.com
Also don't remember that Bobby and I are always welcome to new hosts for new topics. We don't care who you are, everybody has something interesting to say, and everybody has a topic they care about. Please send all requests to us at that same email address: WillAndBobby@gmail.com.
It doesn't matter where you are, because through the magic of Skype, it'll sound like you're right here in the room with us!
Episode 6 will be online in a week. We recorded it just a few nights ago, and it's fucking magic.
Here are direct links to past episodes:

Scary Story Time #11

Hey guys, I just read some disturbing news. SEVERELY disturbing news. Evidently it's Friday, the 13th. Not only that, but we'll be having ANOTHER Friday, the 13th in 13 weeks! These are dark days, indeed. 2012 is supposedly the year that the world ends, and based on the aforementioned facts, I have to assume that this rumor is true.

Yes.

The fact that there will be two Friday, the 13th's in 13 weeks is UNDENIABLE PROOF that the world is ending.

(Disclaimer: I don't believe in any of that bullshit)

More disturbing than that is the fact that evidently I haven't posted a scary story since Halloween. I used to post these goddamn things too much, but now I find out I haven't done it in nearly a quarter of a year!

So here we go.

I should tell you that at some point I had read so many anonymously written creepy stories, that I began to rediscover stories I'd already read. I was worried that maybe I'd read them all. So I branched out. Via Google Reader, I searched for certain keywords like "creepy," "scary," and "weird." Again, I would just come across new blogs with the same old stories.

Until I found a new source.

Japanese horror stories and Japanese myths.

At first I was reluctant, because I had considered Japanese horror to be a little too bizarre, and less frightening than strange. To be fair, I was basing that assumption on the commercials I had seen for movies like The Ring and The Grudge, which looked like shit.

I decided to give anonymously written Japanese horror stories a try. And I was not disappointed.

Yes, these stories are different from anything else I have read. And no, I don't like all of them. There are urban legends about mythical creatures which are half-man and half-dog. Those stories, I don't like. But the Japanese have a very different approach to stories about ghosts. Their concept of ghosts seems to be wholly different from anything we have in this country (United States). I find it to be bizarre and disturbing. The mental image that the following story creates is both surreal and terrifying. The person who translated and re-posted the story I bring to you today (http://sayainunderworld.blogspot.com/) uses letters in place of character names. Today's story is told about a man called "Y."

So, yes, it's pretty different, but let it wash over you.

Here we go:

Quick disclaimer: I'm a really big fan of horror movies and scary stories. Recently I've been finding a lot of interesting little scary stories written anonymously by people on the internet, so I decided to start sharing some of the ones I like. You should know, before you read on, that I did not write any of these stories, unless otherwise noted. You should also know that I won't always be posting that I enjoy 100%. There could be a ten page story that I post because I like one sentence of it. In that case, I assume I'll explain why I posted horse-shit and what merit I see in it. Sometimes, I'll post "scary" stories that I hate, think are stupid, or maybe even funny. But more than that, you should really know that some of these stories may be somewhat graphic, so just steel yourself for anything, especially poor spelling and grammar (I don't edit these stories). No matter what, though, I hope you enjoy them too, and if you know any stories or sources, please share them with me. Also, if you have any requests, just ask, I have a huge archive of this stuff!
Ooh, is it Y?


This is a story I heard from my friend Y. Y's grandad died about two years ago. Y loved his granddad almost too much, and at the funeral he cried like a baby, not caring that other people were watching.

It happened on the seventh day after his granddad's death. On that day there was a storm warning for the area where Y lived and in spite of the murderous wind Y didn't have enough money on him to take a bus and had to walk home from school. He struggled all the way to keep himself from blown away and it was already past seven in the evening when he finally arrived home. He took out the key from the bag and opened the front door.

As soon as he was in, he saw the door to his own room, which was visible from the front door, open, as if to welcome him. He could see from the opening that the light and the TV had been switched on, as well as the halogen heater, which was the sole source of heat in his room.

It must be mum. She was considerate enough to have my room warmed up before I got home. Y thought happily, and he called out to her in a voice more cheerful than usual.

But strangely, no one answered Y. He looked around the front door and noticed there was only one pair of shoes that belonged to Y (note:Japanese people leave shoes at the front door before entering the house) and neither his mum's nor dad's shoes were there. Then Y remembered everyone in the family apart from Y was going to be home late, due to them attending a memorial service that was being held for his granddad. Who could be home then? Y was afraid that it might be a burglar.

Y tiptoed to his room, and fearfully peeked inside through the door. In the room there sat Y's dead granddad with his back to the door.
The moment Y realized that it was his granddad, his fear vanished into thin air. Y was the sort who could never watch horror movies without having someone beside him, but although he knew he was seeing a ghost it was different when the ghost was his granddad's.

Tears rushed to his eyes out of love and gratitude that his granddad cared enough about him to visit him even after death.
Granddad gave a few of his characteristic coughs and clumsily scratched at the back of his head.
"Granddad." When Y called, grandad slowly stood up and turned around.
And as he turned, as if by a trick, the outline of his body became slightly blurred.

Granddad's face looked as if covered in red ink.
"Oh...Oooh, Y. Is it Y?" Granddad called Y's name.
The voice was as he remembered it, but the intonation was somewhat strange. It was too monotonous. Granddad used to speak with a strong accent, but his voice sounded artificial as if it had been computer-generated.
Granddad took one feeble step towards Y.
"What happened to you, granddad?"
Y said, growing anxious because granddad was acting strange.
Granddad again coughed a few times and scratched his head.

"Granddad, did you try to come home?"
When Y asked, grandad looked up at the ceiling as if he was trying to think a little, and said;
"Oh...Oooh, Y. Is it Y?," uttering exactly the same phrase and in the same intonation as before. Y found that disturbing, and began to think maybe what he was seeing in front of him was not his granddad at all.
Granddad was still staring at the ceiling. From his fingers some purplish-red liquid trickled to the floor, making a small pool on the carpet. Moreover, when Y looked at him more closely, he noticed that granddad's arm was bent at an unnatural angle; and the length between the shoulder and the elbow was longer than a normal person's upper arm should be. Granddad wasn't like that at all when he was alive. Maybe this thing was something that was pretending to be his grandad.

Y slowly start to back away, being careful not to make any noises. Despite that the thing that was pretending to be his granddad seemed to have realized Y's intention and, stretching only its neck, he stared at Y.
Oh no, it's looking at me - the moment Y thought it, the thing's face was right in front of him.
Its body was still standing where it was; the only parts that moved were its head and neck. The neck was now like a over-stretched rubber band. Before his eyes, purplish-red bubbles formed around its mouth.
"Oh...Oooh, Y. Is it Y?"
Y screamed.

He ran for his life and took refuge in the nearest bookshop. He was scared to be alone in the house. He couldn't go back until the rest of the family was home, by which time it was past 9pm. He told them what happened to him but none took him seriously.

That night he was forced to sleep in his own room, where the red granddad appeared. Y felt uneasy. Whenever he closed his eyes he feared that he would see that red face the moment he opened his eyes again. But in the end fatigue took the better of him and he fell asleep.

When he woke up the next morning, his face somehow felt itchy. He went to the bathroom and looked himself in the mirror; his face was wet with purplish-red juice.

From then on he stopped sleeping in his room. Because he wasn't sure if he could manage to escape like the last time if the thing appeared to him again.

To this day Y still says, "that was definitely not my granddad."




I don't know about you, but for whatever reason, that description of the grandfather's neck stretching like a rubber band really gets me. It's weird, and oddly nondescript, what is actually happening here. I myself picture the grandfather standing still, across the room from Y, but his neck is stretched, parallel to the floor, so that his face is inches away from Y's. It's terrifying to me, because of how weird it is.

I'm going to go a step further here.

I'm about to get REALLY fucking nerdy. Part of what terrifies me about this story is that, in part, I relate the grandfather's ghost to this character:
This character (enemy) is from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, from both the Nintendo 64 and the Nintendo 3DS, and it's a fucking nightmare.
It pops out of the ground with it's over-long neck stretched out straight up to the ceiling. Once you approach it, it slowly brings it's head down to stare at you, and ultimately attempt to bite you with it's huge mouth.

Bonus points for bullshit: it also has weird long arms that pop out of the ground around it, with sharply nailed hands which will grab you told hold you in place for some goddamn chomping.

Anyway. That's the creepy story for today, Friday, January 13th, 2012.
I don't want to leave you shaking in your boots though, defenseless though. So here's an item to help you:

Take it easy guys.

Scary Story Time #5 and #6

Well, I haven't posted anything here for a really long time, so I'm going to get back into the swing of it by posting a couple of quick scary stories. I'll post some of my own crap soon.

Quick disclaimer: I'm a really big fan of horror movies and scary stories. Recently I've been finding a lot of interesting little scary stories written anonymously by people on the internet, so I decided to start sharing some of the ones I like. You should know, before you read on, that I did not write any of these stories, unless otherwise noted. You should also know that I won't always be posting that I enjoy 100%. There could be a ten page story that I post because I like one sentence of it. In that case, I assume I'll explain why I posted horse-shit and what merit I see in it. Sometimes, I'll post "scary" stories that I hate, think are stupid, or maybe even funny. But more than that, you should really know that some of these stories may be somewhat graphic, so just steel yourself for anything, especially poor spelling and grammar (I don't edit these stories). No matter what, though, I hope you enjoy them too, and if you know any stories or sources, please share them with me. Also, if you have any requests, just ask, I have a huge archive of this stuff!

New Cell Phone

A couple of months ago, my friend's cousin (a single mother) bought a new cell phone. After a long day of work, she came home, placed her phone on the counter, and went watch to TV; her son came to her and asked if he could play with her new phone. She told him not to call anyone or mess with text messages, and he agreed. At around 11:20, she was drowsy, so she decided to tuck her son in and go to bed. She walked to his room and saw that he wasn't there. She then ran over to her room to find him sleeping on her bed with the phone in his hand. Relieved, she picked her phone back up from his hand to inspect it. Browsing through it, she noticed only minor changes such as a new background, banner, etc., but then she opened up her saved pictures. She began deleting the pictures he had taken, unril only one new picture remained. When she first saw it, she was in disbelief. It was her son sleeping on her bed, but the picture was taken by someone else above him... and it showed the left half of an elderly woman's face.

This one constantly gets me, even though Allie pointed out that this woman looks like Liza Minelli. Final story for now:

Across the Border

There was a couple from Texas who were planning a weekend trip across the Mexican border for a shopping spree. At the last minute, their baby-sitter canceled, so they had to bring along their two year old son with them. They had been across the border for an hour when the baby got free and ran around the corner. The mother tried to find him, but he disappeared. The mother found a police officer who told her to go to the gate and wait. Not really understanding the instructions, she did as she was told. About 45 minutes later, a man approached the border, carrying the boy. The mother ran to him, grateful that he had been found. When the man realized it was the boy's mother, he dropped him and ran. The police were waiting for him. The boy was dead, and in less than the 45 minutes he was missing, he was cut open, all of his organs removed, and was stuffed with cocaine. The man was going to carry him across the border as if he were asleep.
Aaand here's a picture of a monkey to reverse the effects of the horror:
(Image from http://monkeyislandpanama.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/CapuchinMonkey011.jpg)
Take it easy guys.

Scary Story Time #3 and #4

I was originally going to avoid posting scary stories for a while, since I did it two times in a row, but I'm really enjoying the shitty rainy weather, so all I want right now is spooky stuff. Anyway, I decided to just put up a couple short stories that I really like. Quick disclaimer: I'm a really big fan of horror movies and scary stories. Recently I've been finding a lot of interesting little scary stories written anonymously by people on the internet, so I decided to start sharing some of the ones I like. You should know, before you read on, that I did not write any of these stories, unless otherwise noted. You should also know that I won't always be posting that I enjoy 100%. There could be a ten page story that I post because I like one sentence of it. In that case, I assume I'll explain why I posted horse-shit and what merit I see in it. Sometimes, I'll post "scary" stories that I hate, think are stupid, or maybe even funny. But more than that, you should really know that some of these stories may be somewhat graphic, so just steel yourself for anything, especially poor spelling and grammar (I don't edit these stories). No matter what, though, I hope you enjoy them too, and if you know any stories or sources, please share them with me. Also, if you have any requests, just ask, I have a huge archive of this stuff!

Sarah O' Bannon

Coffins used to be built with holes in them, attached to six feet of copper tubing and a bell. The tubing would allow air for victims buried under the mistaken impression they were dead. In a certain small town Harold, the local gravedigger, upon hearing a bell one night, went to go see if it was children pretending to be spirits. Sometimes it was also the wind. This time, it wasn't either. A voice from below begged and pleaded to be unburied. "Are you Sarah O'Bannon?" Harold asked. "Yes!" The muffled voice asserted. "You were born on September 17, 1827?" "Yes!" "The gravestone here says you died on February 20, 1857." "No, I'm alive, it was a mistake! Dig me up, set me free!" "Sorry about this, ma'am," Harold said, stepping on the bell to silence it and plugging up the copper tube with dirt. "But this is August. Whatever you are down there, you sure as hell ain't alive no more, and you ain't comin' up."

AND:

Last One Today

In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed.

She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She went to the police, who raided the address on the envelope, where they found heaps of human flesh for sale.

And what was in the envelope?

"This is the last one I am sending you today."

So there you go, a couple brief, creative, scary stories. Two favorites of mine, actually. Their the kinds of stories that somehow captivate you from the very first word until the surprising last one.

And because I don't want to give you nightmares tonight, here's a little something to balance out the spookiness:

Scary Story Time #2

Quick disclaimer: I'm a really big fan of horror movies and scary stories. Recently I've been finding a lot of interesting little scary stories written anonymously by people on the internet, so I decided to start sharing some of the ones I like. You should know, before you read on, that I did not write any of these stories, unless otherwise noted. You should also know that I won't always be posting that I enjoy 100%. There could be a ten page story that I post because I like one sentence of it. In that case, I assume I'll explain why I posted horse-shit and what merit I see in it. Sometimes, I'll post "scary" stories that I hate, think are stupid, or maybe even funny. But more than that, you should really know that some of these stories may be somewhat graphic, so just steel yourself for anything, especially poor spelling and grammar (I don't edit these stories). No matter what, though, I hope you enjoy them too, and if you know any stories or sources, please share them with me. Also, if you have any requests, just ask, I have a huge archive of this stuff!

Curious Little Thing

I have an odd habit a friend recently picked up on, a habit I developed about a year ago. He noticed that when I enter a room, any room, and shut the door, I turn my face away from it and close my eyes until I hear the lock click. Only after the door is fully closed will I open them. He gave me a hard time about it until I told him where it started.

I work for a water-seal company in St. Paul. We produce sealant for exposed wood — decks, boats, that kind of thing. You hear about sealant being a dirty word in the Ashland-Ichor Falls-Ironton area, but not all those companies were part of the infamous “Ethylor summer” that wiped out the local economy in the ’50s. I got sent to an industrial park outside of Ichor Falls on business.
I checked into this dismal hotel, the Hotel Umbra, that looked like the decor hadn’t been changed since 1930. The lobby wallpaper had gone yellow from decades of cigarette smoke, and everything had a fine layer of dust, including the old man behind the front desk. I hoped that the room would be in better shape. Mine was on the fourth floor.
Being an old place, the hotel had a rickety cable elevator, the kind with the double sets of doors: one of those flexing metal gates, and a solid outer pair of doors. I shut the gate and latched it, and pressed the tiny black button for my floor.
Just as the outer elevator doors were about to close, I was startled by the face of a young woman rushing at the gap between them. She was too late; the doors shut, and after a moment the elevator ascended.
I thought nothing of it, until I needed to take the elevator back down for one of my bags. I entered, pushed the button for the lobby, and pressed my tired back to the elevator wall opposite the doors. They had nearly completely shut when again I was surprised by a woman’s face moving towards the gap, staring into the elevator through the gate, too late to place her hand in to stop the doors from closing. This time I sprang forward and held the “Door Open” button, and after a moment the doors lurched and slid open.
I waited a moment. From the opening I could see partly down the hallway: no one in sight. Still holding the button down, I slid open the metal gate and craned my head into the hallway to look down the other direction.
No one. No trace of the girl, no recently shut hotel room door, no footsteps, no jingle of keys.
I released the button, but did not lean back against the wall. I stood directly in front of where the gap in the doors would be, in the center of the elevator. After a pause, the outer doors again began to slide shut, to move towards each other until the space between them was the width of a young girl’s face.
In that quarter-second several fingertips appeared, followed immediately by her face again, rushing from around the corner, staring at me as the doors met. I had been watching the gap where I thought she might be, so I saw her — she was about thirteen years old, and very plain, almost homely, with a pale complexion and neck-length dark brown hair that looked mussed or slightly dirty.
I didn’t have time to glance down at her visible shoulder, to see what she was wearing; from her behavior I wondered if she was a runaway or a homeless person who had gotten into the building. She had had a glassy, blank expression, tinged with a little desperation, some distant desire or need. A look that could easily be accompanied by the words “Please help.”
The next time I passed the front desk, I asked the old man if he’d seen a young girl running through.
“Heard the stories, then,” he said between throat-clearings, rocking gently in his seat. “Young Maddy has been here a long time. Takes a liking to gentlemen guests. Always been shy. Never says a word, not a word. Just curious.”
I told him I hadn’t heard any stories, and that there had been a girl taking the stairs and standing in front of my elevator on every floor.
“That’s our Maddy,” he said. “She likes you then. Sweet on you. She just wants to see, that’s all, just to see. All she ever does. Curious little thing. Just wants to see.”
I stayed at the Hotel Umbra for three nights. It was a four-night business trip; the last night I tried sleeping in my car. It didn’t help.
Let me tell you about Young Maddy. You only catch glimpses of her, of a face with a resigned look of quiet desperation, dominated by a pair of wide, dark eyes. Locked doors, barricades, nothing made a difference; she gets inside. I never saw her longer than half a second. Every time I laid eyes on her she retreated instantly, only to appear again an hour or two later. An hour or two if I was lucky.
Let me tell you about where I saw Young Maddy.
Every time I shut the door to my bathroom, in my hotel room, I saw her. If I watched as I shut it, at the last possible second I’d see the crescent of her face moving fast at the gap. I’d throw the door open to find nothing.
Every time I closed the closet door I saw her. If I watched that gap, she’d suddenly be inside the closet, leaning her head to watch me just as it shut. It’s as if she knew where to go, where to be, so that my eye would meet hers. But there was never an impact, never a moment when she’d make contact with the door or the wall.
The first time I sat at that writing table I saw her. As I closed the large bottom drawer. She rushed at the gap from inside the drawer, her wide eyes pleading for something I could not give. I pulled the drawer from its rails and threw it to the floor.
I did spend that last night in my car, but like I said, it did no good. Tossing and turning on that rental car seat, the back ratcheted as flat as I could get it, I’d have to open my eyes sometimes, and if there was a place for her to dart from my view when I opened them, she did. In the side-view mirror, or peeking over the hood of my car — once upside-down, at the top of the windshield, as if she was on the roof.
I’m back in St. Paul again, and I’ve been back for a year. But Maddy hasn’t stopped. If I keep my eyes open long enough, if I watch a place long enough, I’ll eventually catch sight of movement — near the copier in my office, a pile of boxes in an alley, a column in a quiet parking lot — and my eye will get there just in time to see her eye retreating from view. There’s never anything there when I go to look, so I’ve stopped looking.
That’s how I’ve had to change things since the Hotel Umbra. I’ve stopped looking. I keep my eyes shut when I close doors, when I shut drawers and cabinets, fridges, coolers, the trunk of my car. Not all spaces. Just ones that are big enough.
At least, that used to work. I was getting ready for bed a few nights ago, standing in front of my bathroom mirror, door shut, cabinets shut. Watching myself floss. I opened up wide to get my molars.
I swear I saw fingertips retreat down the back of my throat.

This story actually legitimately freaked me out for a while, but that's probably just because I already have a fear of people staring at me. Now I occasionally think of this stupid little girl ghost whenever I see that there is a cabinet or something open across a room. I swear to god, if I EVER see a stupid freaky face peaking at me from under a bed, I'm just going to die on the spot. Oof...Okay, here's something to help us all calm down:

Look at these guys! So silly!
I'm still scared. Send me your favorite scary stories, guys!

Scary Story Time #1

This will be the first of many! Quick disclaimer: I'm a really big fan of horror movies and scary stories. Recently I've been finding a lot of interesting little scary stories written anonymously by people on the internet, so I decided to start sharing some of the ones I like. You should know, before you read on, that I did not write any of these stories, unless otherwise noted. You should also know that I won't always be posting that I enjoy 100%. There could be a ten page story that I post because I like one sentence of it. In that case, I assume I'll explain why I posted horse-shit and what merit I see in it. Sometimes, I'll post "scary" stories that I hate, think are stupid, or maybe even funny. But more than that, you should really know that some of these stories may be somewhat graphic, so just steel yourself for anything, especially poor spelling and grammar (I don't edit these stories). No matter what, though, I hope you enjoy them too, and if you know any stories or sources, please share them with me. Also, if you have any requests, just ask, I have a huge archive of this stuff!

Here we go: The Subway Ride I live in the UK. A colleague at work heard this from her boyfriend. He works with someone who said that his sister’s friend got the last tube (subway train) home a couple of weeks ago. When she got on there were 5 rows of seats empty but the last row had three people sitting in them. As she was a little afraid, she went and sat opposite these people. She settled down and looked up to see the woman sitting opposite her really staring at her. So she got out her book and started to read but every time she looked up the woman was still staring. The train pulled into the next station and a man got on. He looked up and down the carriage, took a look at her and the people opposite her and came and sat next to her. As the train left the station the man leaned back and said quietly in her ear “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get off at the next station with me”. She was scared but thought the best idea would be to get off at the next station as he asked as there might be people around. The next stop comes up and she leaves the train with this man. The man says “Thank God, I didn’t mean to scare you but I had to get you off that train. I’m a doctor and the woman sitting opposite you was dead and the two men either side were propping her up”. According to the guy who told this story, the girl and the doctor called the police who stopped the train at the next station.

Pretty scary stuff...I'll bet you could use a pallet cleanser. Here you go:

Feel free to send me any stories you see or like!!