ITT:Creepy

Things that don't belong anywhere else. (Check first).

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DonChubby
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby DonChubby » Mon Mar 09, 2009 9:50 pm UTC

Shouldn't be that hard to understand, he couldn't stop after the third mouthful because he got a turd so large it took 11 gulps to get it all down.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby TaintedDeity » Mon Mar 09, 2009 9:52 pm UTC

Yeah, I didn;t get that either.
I wasn't aware loogie=turd, I thought it meant snot.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby sje46 » Mon Mar 09, 2009 9:53 pm UTC

So since when did wastebucket mean toilet, and loogie equal turd, and this sentence
-What could I do, anyway, if I just caught a really that loooong loogie?
mean something that's not nonsense?
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Iori_Yagami » Mon Mar 09, 2009 10:26 pm UTC

OK, then, I am not an expert on those things, but isn't a wastebucket a bucket where your throw or pour anything that is, duh, waste? Like spit snot, for example. I am glad it didn't touch anyone, or I was afraid you'd chase me off the thread. :mrgreen:
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby wst » Mon Mar 09, 2009 10:46 pm UTC

Iori_Yagami wrote:OK, then, I am not an expert on those things, but isn't a wastebucket a bucket where your throw or pour anything that is, duh, waste? Like spit snot, for example. I am glad it didn't touch anyone, or I was afraid you'd chase me off the thread. :mrgreen:
Well, uh, my wastebaskets don't contain liquid... and my mucous ends up in tissues inside said wastebasket. Ever tried drinking tissues? (I use a toilet for other tissues)
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby annals » Mon Mar 09, 2009 11:28 pm UTC

John Dies at the End has got to be one of the creepiest books I've ever read. Unfortunately, it's no longer available to read on the website. I can't wait until it comes out late this year.

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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby DonChubby » Tue Mar 10, 2009 12:16 am UTC

TaintedDeity wrote:Yeah, I didn;t get that either.
I wasn't aware loogie=turd, I thought it meant snot.

It does. I wasn't aware of the word beforehand, and basically just went by instinct.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Chuff » Tue Mar 10, 2009 3:02 am UTC

I didn't find any of those creepy at all, although the roommate story is pretty intense.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby niteice » Tue Mar 10, 2009 4:44 am UTC

Actaeus wrote:Shitbathing Nazis
AKA "The Shitty Roommate"

It starts as a list of "terrible things my roommate did" and turns into a level of Resident Evil. I believe it's a true story :shock:


I play saxophone.

That's the only thing that bothered me about that story. :(
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Brooklynxman » Tue Mar 10, 2009 5:46 am UTC

niteice wrote:
Spoiler:
In a certain area of a city somewhere in Western Philadelphia is an area of flat concrete, the kind of place used as a basketball court or similar, near to a school building. If you wait in this area on the 10th September, you will eventually be approached by two youths with an aggressive demeanor about them. The youths will challenge you to a fight, which you must accept. Following the brawl, return to your home. It is important that you tell your mother of this incident. She will become perturbed by your tale, and order you to leave for an area of Los Angeles. You will be compelled to obey her. At the nearest taxi rank, whistle for a cab and one will approach. You may see that its license plate reads "FRESH", and there will be novelty dice dangling from the rear-view mirror. Do not be disturbed by the odor of the cab's interior, and speak only the words "Yo home, to Bel Air" to the driver. When you arrive in Los Angeles, which should be around the hours of 7:00 or 8:00 PM, you must speak again to the driver, this time saying "Yo home, smell ya' later". DO NOT LOOK BACK AS THE TAXI LEAVES. You will be dropped off at the entrance to a large mansion. Approach the door and knock three times. If you follow these instructions exactly, you will be allowed to claim your place as the Prince of this area of Los Angeles, known only as "Bel-Air". You will be led to a room with an enormous throne, encrusted with the largest diamonds and fashioned from the purest of gold. This throne is object 539 of 538. Sit on it, and ponder what to do next.


Spoiler:
Legend has it that if you travel east to Japan, you will find an old man living on the coast just 40 miles south of Tokyo. If you give this man $500,000 he will take you to an island just off the coast that can't be found on any map. This island is filled with people without faces or names, who hold grudges over the most trivial of matters. When you arrive at this island the first thing you will see is a swimming pool that is never open. Just beyond the pool you will find a town that is filled with cats. You must find a white cat wearing a pink bow. If you ask the cat how to get to Mexico, he will stand up and ask you for three things: Your name, your face, and your soul. If you agree to give them to him, your face will vanish and you will forget your own name. You can live on the island and have whatever you desire, but you can never leave the island. The only way to escape is to find the cat again and ask for a young child. The next day a van will pull up in front of your house. You will hear a knock at the door, and a voice will ask if you want to come to a party. No one knows what happens if you answer the door.


Spoiler:
The human race is a fucked up thing. Every year we produce wonderful paintings and gruesome murders. Every town has them. Same thing on the internet. We all know where the wonderful elements of humanity go to: we see the charities and the awesome photoshops and all the good stuff because that all gets passed around like delicious cake at a party. But where does all the bad stuff go?

All the images of true evil,they don't need to pass themselves around. They all wait in one place, knowing that the people that need to see them are called, and will inevitably come to them. Of course, even people that don't NEED to see them sometimes get curious, and it can be a little harder for decent folks to find them. But it can be done. The trick is patience, and a certain amount of kindness to strangers.

Just hang around the internet. Talk to people. Make friends. Eventually you'll meet one of the proverbial wolves in sheeps' clothing. If you're nice enough to him (it's always a him) eventually one day he'll tell you to look for the sign of the separated leaves and the single lined letter, but he won't explain anymore than that. Even with the blackest evil, there are still rules to be obeyed, and talking about this place openly is enough to become its victim.

Ask around, mentioning those words. No one will know the whole truth, but eventually you'll piece together enough clues, enough of the references that you'll get a URL.

Consider carefully before you type in that URL. Once you go in, you can never, ever unsee what you will see. You will see your childhood raped and shattered into 34 pieces. You will learn to fear cats and never, ever eat pizza again.

It is the ending of the internet. It is the death of civilization and the birth of a new dark era. It is 4chan's /b/.


After reading a lot of creepypasta you eventually find some original content ;)

Lol at the 1st and 3rd. Honestly. My personal favorites ever. *has chills*
We figure out what all this means, then do something large and violent

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Spoiler:
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby sje46 » Tue Mar 10, 2009 6:32 am UTC

Zeroignite wrote:
Actaeus wrote:Shitbathing Nazis
AKA "The Shitty Roommate"

It starts as a list o
invisibl wrote:Four Roo
f "terrible things my roommate did" and turns into a level of Resident Evil. I believe it's a true story :shock:
I can attest to the fact that while this may be long, it is worth reading.

That was the craziest thing I've ever read. Ever.
invisibl wrote:
Pirate.Bondage wrote:Everyone has heard this one. It's creepy because it actually happens.
Spoiler:
A man and woman went to Las Vegas for their honeymoon, and checked into a suite at a hotel. When they got to their room they both detected a bad odor. The husband called down to the front desk and asked to speak to the manager. He explained that the room smelled very bad and they would like another suite. The manager apologized and told the man that they were all booked because of a convention. He offered to send them to a restaurant of their choice for lunch compliments of the hotel and said he was going to send a maid up to their room to clean and to try and get rid of the odor.

After a nice lunch the couple went back to their room. When they walked in they could both still smell the same odor. Again the husband called the front desk and told the manager that the room still smelled really bad. The manager told the man that they would try and find a suite at another hotel. He called every hotel on the strip, but every hotel was sold out because of the convention. The manager told the couple that they couldn't find them a room anywhere, but they would try and clean the room again. The couple wanted to see the sights and do a little gambling anyway, so they said they would give them two hours to clean and then they would be back.

When the couple had left, the manager and all of housekeeping went to the room to try and find what was making the room smell so bad. They searched the entire room and found nothing, so the maids changed the sheets, changed the towels, took down the curtains and put new ones up, cleaned the carpet and cleaned the suite again using the strongest cleaning products they had. The couple came back two hours later to find the room still had a bad odor. The husband was so angry at this point, he decided to find whatever this smell was himself. So he started tearing the entire suite apart himself.

As he pulled the top mattress off the box spring he found a dead body of a woman.



Umm Four Rooms?

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0113101/

No, this never happened in Four Rooms.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Pirate.Bondage » Tue Mar 10, 2009 6:27 pm UTC

invisibl wrote:
Umm Four Rooms?
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0113101/

Yeah I knew about the movie, but there's also stories about it on Snopes.com that are "true".
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Elvish Pillager » Tue Mar 10, 2009 9:16 pm UTC

annals wrote:John Dies at the End has got to be one of the creepiest books I've ever read. Unfortunately, it's no longer available to read on the website. I can't wait until it comes out late this year.

JDatE, creepy? It was mostly played for laughs... I suppose it had genuinely creepy parts, which would be accentuated by their difference from the first of the book (much like the Orz in Star Control 2.)
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby ParanoidAndroid » Wed Mar 11, 2009 2:17 am UTC

Actaeus wrote:Shitbathing Nazis
AKA "The Shitty Roommate"

It starts as a list of "terrible things my roommate did" and turns into a level of Resident Evil. I believe it's a true story :shock:

Haha, wow. That's crazy.

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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby annals » Wed Mar 11, 2009 7:26 am UTC

Elvish Pillager wrote:
annals wrote:John Dies at the End has got to be one of the creepiest books I've ever read. Unfortunately, it's no longer available to read on the website. I can't wait until it comes out late this year.

JDatE, creepy? It was mostly played for laughs... I suppose it had genuinely creepy parts, which would be accentuated by their difference from the first of the book (much like the Orz in Star Control 2.)

It was more the idea behind some of it that creeped me out. For instance, the shadow people that can wipe you out of existence, the events surrounding the fake-Jamacian guy, the idea that the protagonists had these things going on that were real to them but not anyone else and the phrase "they haunt minds" (which could be because I come from a family with a history of schizophrenia). And yeah, the book is also freaking hilarious (imo) which makes it all better. Also it has one of my favorite openers ever, which is even better when you reread it with the end in mind.

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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby brunswikstu » Wed Mar 11, 2009 10:19 am UTC

ParanoidAndroid wrote:
Actaeus wrote:Shitbathing Nazis
AKA "The Shitty Roommate"

It starts as a list of "terrible things my roommate did" and turns into a level of Resident Evil. I believe it's a true story :shock:

Haha, wow. That's crazy.


I am so glad I live in my own apartment

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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Themata » Wed Mar 11, 2009 1:04 pm UTC

We need more creepy.

After reading the cave story I honestly could not sleep for a couple hours, I was shivering a little.

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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Weeks » Wed Mar 11, 2009 5:31 pm UTC

I know the definition of "shithole" now.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Quadropus » Wed Mar 11, 2009 8:22 pm UTC

Well, here is something a friend told me today when I asked them how hard it was to keep a snake.
It is rather creepy and sinister.... So perfect really.
Spoiler:
So, he has a python, a relatively seizable one at that. Being slightly odd, he used to let it sleep at the food of his bed whilst he slept. All was well for a while, but after a while of this, it started to go off its food, barely eating anything for a few weeks. So considering this, he took it to the vet. They asked if it had shown any other weird behaviour, he said it had, that it had started lying length-ways next to him at night (I must confirm here, yes, my friend is odd).

The vet told him that the snake was starving itself.... It was also sizing my friend up.

So yes, his pet snake was preparing to eat him whilst he slept.
Last edited by Quadropus on Wed Mar 11, 2009 10:34 pm UTC, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Actaeus » Wed Mar 11, 2009 8:40 pm UTC

I am so not getting a snake.
By the way, you spelt "slept" wrong.

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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Klapaucius » Thu Mar 12, 2009 12:13 am UTC

Actaeus wrote:I am so not getting a snake.
By the way, you spelt "slept" wrong.
At first, I read that "you spelt 'spelt' wrong", and went back up to the first post, and then wondered how you could have thought that the snake wanted to eating him while he spelt. And then I thought, "Maybe the snake was going to wait until he was distracted by having to spell a really long word."
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby the_bandersnatch » Thu Mar 12, 2009 2:50 pm UTC

Quadropus wrote:Well, here is something a friend told me today when I asked them how hard it was to keep a snake.
It is rather creepy and sinister.... So perfect really.
Spoiler:
So, he has a python, a relatively seizable one at that. Being slightly odd, he used to let it sleep at the food of his bed whilst he slept. All was well for a while, but after a while of this, it started to go off its food, barely eating anything for a few weeks. So considering this, he took it to the vet. They asked if it had shown any other weird behaviour, he said it had, that it had started lying length-ways next to him at night (I must confirm here, yes, my friend is odd).

The vet told him that the snake was starving itself.... It was also sizing my friend up.

So yes, his pet snake was preparing to eat him whilst he slept.



I'm calling shenanigans on this one - I've heard this story multiple times over the years, the first time was a good few years ago now, so either your friend is making it up, or you are, or this happens a lot.

Come on people, we need more creepy! That cave story was by far the best so far. Also, please understand that disgusting =/= creepy.

That is all.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Neuman » Thu Mar 12, 2009 3:52 pm UTC

Did anyone else laugh at the "Shitbathing Nazis" story? I thought it was kinda funny.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby SecondTalon » Thu Mar 12, 2009 4:26 pm UTC

Spoiler:
A recent study by the National Psychiatric Institute in Boston, MA, concluded that no activity can account for the phenomenon known as nightmares. Whereas many dreams come from unconscious desires, most nightmares seem to come from an outside source independent of the individual. In fact, when subjects are asked to recall nightmares they are almost always found in the same memory section as actual physical memories, not the section where normal dreams are replayed. In other words, those aliens and creatures you see at night in your “dreams?” They’re real.
Spoiler:
Some murderers see their work as an art form. If their piece is a success, they will continue on with their life, outside of jail. However, with the limited capability of understanding humans possess, combined with their narrow mindedness, the true secret of a killer can go entirely missed.

The following is a video log of young man recording his last moments. It spends its time quietly residing in a dark, silent evidence room, calling out to whoever may hear its cry. Upon deaf ears will its justified screams always fall.

The video starts off recording the youth adjusting his camera. His room is entirely dark, not a single spec of light to be found. The camera records in night vision as the man looks directly into the lens and begins speaking.

“Hello. My name is…” The voice pauses for a moment, deciding how he should start off. “Ugh. No, I’m not beginning it like this. It sounds too much like I’m recording my last words. That isn’t what I want this to be. Instead, I’ll just get straight to the explanation. I’ll describe to you the hell that has been nipping at me for god only knows how long now. It started the night of my 18th birthday. January’s cold held reign over our outside activities. It was just a small party, if you could even call it that. A few presents from my family, cake, the norm. All irrelevant. It was that night, as I was lying in bed, my lights out with my TV providing the only light for the room, that my story begins. My curtains and blinds were closed, which gave the room a nice ominous feel at the time. I liked that sorta thing back then.”

The man takes a slow breath, looking away from the camera for the first time. His focus returns after a brief moment and once more he begins reciting his story.

“Right. Back to what I was saying. My TV was in front of me, and the light it gave out cast a shadow on the wall beside me. I was a bit bored, so I decided to entertain myself by interacting with the two dimensional doppelganger of myself. My hand traced along the wall, as if I was playing a game of tag with my shadow’s hand, which seemed to be trying to flee from me, going out in front of me. That was the first sign, but I didn’t notice it. I should’ve been more aware.”

A brief pause accompanied by a stressed exhale and quick inhale. His expressions seemed to show that he was trying to think.

“After that, I’m sure there were more signs, I’m positive. They were probably just too subtle for me to notice. By the time I did notice something wrong, it might as well have been written in big bold letters in front of me. It was later on in the day, and I was in the kitchen of our house by myself. It was mildly lit. Just enough to see where you’re going with out needing the aid of a light. I got some snack out of a cabinet, but knocked over a box onto the ground in the process. No big deal. I bent over to pick it up, and noticed the presence of my shadow. It immediately struck me as awkward. There was no light in here to cast a shadow. I put the box and my snack on a nearby counter without letting my eyes leave my shadow. If they were deceiving me, I wanted to know right away. My interest in the paranormal may have made me a bit paranoid, but I knew that the tenseness I was feeling now wasn’t unwarranted. I took a step towards the room’s exit, and of course my shadow mimicked me. I raised my left arm, as if tempting him to continue mirroring what I was doing. He raised his left arm. Then he raised his right arm. Mine was still at my side. My skin crawled like a trillion tiny little bugs were trying to make their way out from under it. Then in one swift movement his hands wrapped around his neck, and I was the one who felt its effects. My throat was pained and my breathing stopped. I struggled frantically, but against what? My attacker was my own shadow. I don’t remember what happened after that. Only what I was told by my family when I woke up. My blood was on the corner of one of the cabinet doors I had left open. Apparently I knocked myself good and passed out on the floor. Back then, I was happy to believe that’s what really happened. After all, this kind of stuff only happens in stories.”

Once more he collects himself from the rough memories with a deep breath of air.

“After that, I was always suspicious of the me that didn’t talk, that didn’t have any facial expressions, that would never confess to what he did to me. But what I had thought happened had a perfectly logical explanation. I couldn’t doubt it. Instead, I carried on, always holding that distrust in the back of my mind. But he didn’t assault me again. Though several times I noticed things that just couldn’t have really happened. I’d brush my teeth with my right hand, he’d use his left. I’d scratch my back, he’d scratch his head. I’m sure he was just taunting me. Probably the same reason he let me live the first time he attacked me. For fun, no doubt.”

There is a creak off to the man’s left, which catches his attention. He stares at the origin of the sound intently for a moment before returning to his monologue.

“The next attack… I’m betting this one was planned to finish me off. Once again I was in the kitchen, home alone for the time. I had an apple on a plate, and I grabbed a steak knife from its group. Not entirely necessary for cutting an apple, but it was in easy reach. Only half way through grabbing the knife did I realize that when I had it, so did my shadow, my enemy. Stunned by my lack of thinking, I dropped the knife. As I feared, my shadow did not repeat this action. If he had a face, I’m sure it would have been filled by a crooked and malevolent smile. I whispered “No.” as best as I could. My voice was barely more than a whisper but I doubt it made any bit of a difference. My silhouette raised the knife, and then brought it down in one swift, uncaring motion. The result was a jet of blood from my arm and a surge of pain that reverberated several times through out my body. But on instinct I turned around and ran. I didn’t know where, and I didn’t know why. I couldn’t out run him. Another stab. This one brought me to my knees. The nearest room was the bathroom. I dragged myself across the carpet, slowly into the room, and shut the door behind me. There was no window to the outside, which made the room completely dark. I waited for him to return, I was expecting to be ended by something that was essentially me. Hours went by and nothing happened. That’s when I learned how to defeat him. He can’t exist in total darkness. He becomes nothing.”

The young man looked around his surroundings, devoid of any light, and then back to the camera.

“And that’s why I’m here now. I couldn’t do this at home. If I tried to explain, I would’ve been sent out to an asylum. I had to run away. I suppose he let me get this far as a sort of show sportsmanship. Twisted. Doesn’t matter, really. So long as I’m in this chamber of darkness, I’m safe. That’s all that matters for now. Although I can’t help but wonder how long I’ll be trapped in here. What do I do when I run out of food? What do I do-“

The sound of cars pulling up and parking outside stop the young man midsentence.

“Taylor? Taylor are you in there? Please, Taylor, say something!” A voice yelled just outside the door, and the young man’s previous moderately calm demeanor has changed to one of panic.

“Go away! Just go! I don’t want you here, go away damn it!” He screamed back. His voice was so angered that the woman on the other side was silent for a minute.

“Taylor, we’re coming in honey. It’s for your own good.”

There was a smash against the door. Then another, followed by a soft spoken “No…” from the young man. The third crash brought the door down with a tremendous thud. Light from outside flooded the room, and almost immediately the man was knocked to the ground by some invisible force. In the struggle, the camera is tipped backwards and only records the sounds of Taylor struggling for breath as his mother and the accompanying police officer try to help him in some manner, without avail.
Spoiler:
Compared to most other towns, the one I live in is pretty high above sea level, and my house just happens to sit on the highest hill there. From my bedroom window I can look out and see the entire town, along with the surrounding mountains. It’s a lovely sight.

I don’t know about you, but I actually look forward to waking up in the morning, if only to look out my window and see those mountains. It’s especially pretty after a midnight drizzle, when the air is so thick with vapor that the mountains and buildings are completely covered by fog, with only their dark outlines penetrating the thick mist.

On weekends I don’t have work, but I get up early anyway to watch the fog slowly fade away to reveal everything it hides. I watched the thick blanket of fog over the mountains slowly fade away last weekend, just as I had done every weekend before. But this time, the mountains faded away with the mist until both had vanished from sight.

Yeah, that was kinda weird.

The next morning, the blanket of fog covered the whole town. It vanished along with the fog, just as the mountains did. That was kinda weird, too.

And now, just a couple ago, I opened the shades to see nothing but fog, completely surrounding my house. I don’t know if it’s the humidity or my lack of morning coffee, but I feel kinda weird…
Spoiler:
I am currently sitting in front of my computer, scared witless. Any moment now I am going to be killed.

Today a friend of mine told me a story.

His aunt had taken care of him since he was a small boy, and she told him last night about how his parents died. He did a very fair imitation of her (I knew them both pretty well):

“They were doing mission work in some nasty little South American country when a man burst into the mission hospital one night, terrified out of his mind. He told them that his sister had been killed by a Muerta blanca, and that he was certain that it was coming for him next. What is a Muerta blanca? Apparently it was some sort of bogey-man, something like that dumb chupacabra or whatever. They called it the White Death or the White Girl, because it was the soul of someone who hated life so much that they came back in their shrouds to kill those who told of them.

The man had been told about the vengeful spirit by his sister hours before her death. It was a girl with dead, black eyes that wept bile. The thing moved without ever actually moving its legs, and it stalked its victims back to their homes. Now, if you weren’t already aware that this thing was following you, once it got back to your house, it would start knocking on your door…

Once for your skin, which she’ll use to patch her own decaying flesh.

Twice for your muscle, which she’ll gnash her teeth on between victims.

Thrice for your bones, which she’ll make knives to pick her teeth and kill her victims.

Four times for your heart, which she’ll wear around her neck.

Five times for your teeth, which she’ll polish and keep in a box.

Six times for your eyes, which she’ll see the faces of your loved ones through.

Seven times for your soul, which she’ll eat whole - you can never pass while you’re in her stomach.

She has to repeat this on any mirror or door between you and her.

You can try to outrun her, but she’s faster than the fastest man. And if you leave your home while she’s knocking on your door, she won’t be so courteous when she catches up to you.

Now the man was certain that this thing had killed his sister, that he had tried to tell the police, but they would not listen. Next he had tried to tell his priest, but the priest turned him away when he saw that the thing was following him now - oh, that’s right, I forgot about that - it can only get you if you tell someone else about it, or you saw it kill someone else. The man, after finishing his tale, stole a car from the mission, and was never seen again.”

Apparently his mother and father had immediately called his aunt about this when it happened. They were found in the morning, skinned and dismembered. Their bodies were covered in tiny, child-like handprints.”

His aunt was really drunk the night before, and had told him about that. He told me this story early in the morning today at school, before the cops arrived. His aunt had been murdered that night. I called him later that night, and he told me that he was being chased by someone, and now they were knocking on his door. I told him to stop shitting me.

He held the phone away from his face for a minute, and I could hear slow, deliberate knocking. A moment later, I heard the door rip from its hinges and the dying screams of my friend.

Then a little girl’s voice spoke over the line: “WITNESS.” I hung up.

Three minutes ago someone started knocking on my door. She has to knock 28 times on my front door, 28 times on the mirror in the hall, and another 28 times on the door to my bedroom. She’s doing it slowly… I think she wants to scare me some more, let me know that my death is just moments away. I will not run - I couldn’t get to my car in time anyway. She started knocking on my bedroom door a minute ago, she should be done any moment.

Nice knowing you guys, it’s been fuy5
WITNESS
Spoiler:
!MESSAGE BEGINS

We made a mistake. That is the simple, undeniable truth of the matter, however painful it might be. The flaw was not in our Observatories, for those machines were as perfect as we could make, and they showed us only the unfiltered light of truth. The flaw was not in the Predictor, for it is a device of pure, infallible logic, turning raw data into meaningful information without the taint of emotion or bias. No, the flaw was within us, the Orchestrators of this disaster, the sentients who thought themselves beyond such failings. We are responsible.

It began a short while ago, as these things are measured, less than 6^6 Deeli ago, though I suspect our systems of measure will mean very little by the time anyone receives this transmission. We detected faint radio signals from a blossoming intelligence 2^14 Deelis outward from the Galactic Core, as photons travel. At first crude and unstructured, these leaking broadcasts quickly grew in complexity and strength, as did the messages they carried. Through our Observatories we watched a world of strife and violence, populated by a barbaric race of short-lived, fast breeding vermin. They were brutal and uncultured things which stabbed and shot and burned each other with no regard for life or purpose. Even their concepts of Art spoke of conflict and pain. They divided themselves according to some bizarre cultural patterns and set their every industry to cause of death.

They terrified us, but we were older and wiser and so very far away, so we did not fret. Then we watched them split the atom and breach the heavens within the breadth of one of their single, short generations, and we began to worry. When they began actively transmitting messages and greetings into space, we felt fear and horror. Their transmissions promised peace and camaraderie to any who were listening, but we had watched them for too long to buy into such transparent deceptions. They knew we were out here, and they were coming for us.

The Orchestrators consulted the Predictor, and the output was dire. They would multiply and grow and flood out of their home system like some uncountable tide of Devourer worms, consuming all that lay in their path. It might take 6^8 Deelis, but they would destroy us if left unchecked. With aching carapaces we decided to act, and sealed our fate.

The Gift of Mercy was 8^4 strides long with a mouth 2/4 that in diameter, filled with many 4^4 weights of machinery, fuel, and ballast. It would push itself up to 2/8th of light speed with its onboard fuel, and then begin to consume interstellar Primary Element 2/2 to feed its unlimited acceleration. It would be traveling at nearly light speed when it hit. They would never see it coming. Its launch was a day of mourning, celebration, and reflection. The horror of the act we had committed weighted heavily upon us all; the necessity of our crime did little to comfort us.

The Gift had barely cleared the outer cometary halo when the mistake was realized, but it was too late. The Gift could not be caught, could not be recalled or diverted from its path. The architects and work crews, horrified at the awful power of the thing upon which they labored, had quietly self-terminated in droves, walking unshielded into radiation zones, neglecting proper null pressure safety or simple ceasing their nutrient consumption until their metabolic functions stopped. The appalling cost in lives had forced the Orchestrators to streamline the Gift’s design and construction. There had been no time for the design or implementation of anything beyond the simple, massive engines and the stabilizing systems. We could only watch in shame and horror as the light of genocide faded into infrared against the distant void.

They grew, and they changed, in a handful of lifetimes they abolished war, abandoned their violent tendencies and turned themselves to the grand purposes of life and Art. We watched them remake first themselves, and then their world. Their frail, soft bodies gave way to gleaming metals and plastics, they unified their people through an omnipresent communications grid and produced Art of such power and emotion, the likes of which the Galaxy has never seen before. Or again, because of us.

They converted their home world into a paradise (by their standards) and many 10^6s of them poured out into the surrounding system with a rapidity and vigor that we could only envy. With bodies built to survive every environment from the day lit surface of their innermost world, to the atmosphere of their largest gas giant and the cold void in-between, they set out to sculpt their system into something beautiful. At first we thought them simple miners, stripping the rocky planets and moons for vital resources, but then we began to see the purpose to their constructions, the artworks carved into every surface, and traced across the system in glittering lights and dancing fusion trails. And still, our terrible Gift approached.

They had less than 2^2 Deeli to see it, following so closely on the tail of its own light. In that time, oh so brief even by their fleeting lives, more than 10^10 sentients prepared for death. Lovers exchanged last words, separated by worlds and the tyranny of light speed. Their planetside engineers worked frantically to build sufficient transmission infrastructure to upload the countless masses with the necessary neural modifications, while those above dumped lifetimes of music and literature from their databanks to make room for passengers. Those lacking the required hardware or the time to acquire it consigned themselves to death, lashed out in fear and pain, or simply went about their lives as best they could under the circumstances.

The Gift arrived suddenly, the light of its impact visible in our skies, shining bright and cruel even to the unaugmented ocular receptor. We watched and we wept for our victims, dead so many Deelis before the light of their doom had even reached us. Many 6^4s of those who had been directly or even tangentially involved in the creation of the Gift sealed their spiracles with paste as a final penance for the small roles they had played in this atrocity. The light dimmed, the dust cleared, and our Observatories refocused upon the place where their shining blue world had once hung in the void, and found only dust and the pale gleam of an orphaned moon, wrapped in a thin, burning wisp of atmosphere that had once belonged to its parent.

Radiation and relativistic shrapnel had wiped out much of the inner system, and continent sized chunks of molten rock carried screaming ghosts outward at interstellar escape velocities, damned to wander the great void for an eternity. The damage was apocalyptic, but not complete, from the shadows of the outer worlds, tiny points of light emerged, thousands of fusion trails of single ships and world ships and everything in between, many 10^6s of survivors in flesh and steel and memory banks, ready to rebuild. For a few moments we felt relief, even joy, and we were filled with the hope that their culture and Art would survive the terrible blow we had dealt them. Then came the message, tightly focused at our star, transmitted simultaneously by hundreds of their ships.

“We know you are out there, and we are coming for you.”

!MESSAGE ENDS
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Moo » Thu Mar 12, 2009 4:51 pm UTC

That second last one's pretty good, I like the very ending.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Zeroignite » Thu Mar 12, 2009 11:50 pm UTC

I quite liked the last story.
Saved. Where did you find it?
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby SecondTalon » Thu Mar 12, 2009 11:52 pm UTC

All of those are from Creepypasta. I don't recall the exact name of the last one.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Istrom » Fri Mar 13, 2009 3:11 am UTC

EDIT: A warning since people are getting upset by the image. Depending on how easily you're scared this picture will be either a really bad shoop or the most terrifying thing you'll ever see. Don't read before bedtime.

FYI: I cannot bring myself to read this story. I'll explain why I'm posting it after you're done reading it.
Spoiler:
I first met in person with Mary E. in the summer of 2007. I had arranged with her husband of fifteen years, Terence, to see her for an interview. Mary had initially agreed, since I was not a newsman but rather an amateur writer gathering information for a few early college assignments and, if all went according to plan, some pieces of fiction. We scheduled the interview for a particular weekend when I was in Chicago on unrelated business, but at the last moment Mary changed her mind and locked herself in the couple’s bedroom, refusing to meet with me. For half an hour I sat with Terence as we camped outside the bedroom door, I listening and taking notes while he attempted fruitlessly to calm his wife. The things Mary said made little sense but fit with the pattern I was expecting: though I could not see her, I could tell from her voice that she was crying, and more often than not her objections to speaking with me centered around an incoherent diatribe on her dreams -- her nightmares. Terence apologized profusely when we ceased the exercise, and I did my best to take it in stride; recall that I wasn’t a reporter in search of a story, but merely a curious young man in search of information. Besides, I thought at the time, I could perhaps find another, similar case if I put my mind and resources to it.
Mary E. was the sysop for a small Chicago-based Bulletin Board System in 1992 when she first encountered smile.jpg and her life changed forever. She and Terence had been married for only five months. Mary was one of an estimated 400 people who saw the image when it was posted as a hyperlink on the BBS, though she is the only one who has spoken openly about the experience. The rest have remained anonymous, or are perhaps dead. In 2005, when I was only in tenth grade, smile.jpg was first brought to my attention by my burgeoning interest in web-based phenomena; Mary was the most often cited victim of what is sometimes referred to as “Smile.dog,” the being smile.jpg is reputed to display. What caught my interest (other than the obvious macabre elements of the cyber-legend and my proclivity toward such things) was the sheer lack of information, usually to the point that people don’t believe it even exists other than as a rumor or hoax.
It is unique because, though the entire phenomenon centers on a picture file, that file is nowhere to be found on the internet; certainly many photomanipulated simulacra litter the web, showing up with the most frequency on sites such as the imageboard 4chan, particularly the /x/-focused paranormal subboard. It is suspected these are fakes because they do not have the effect the true smile.jpg is believed to have, namely sudden onset temporal lobe epilepsy and acute anxiety. This purported reaction in the viewer is one of the reasons the phantom-like smile.jpg is regarded with such disdain, since it is patently absurd, though depending on whom you ask the reluctance to acknowledge smile.jpg’s existence might be just as much out of fear as it is out of disbelief.
Neither smile.jpg nor Smile.dog is mentioned anywhere on Wikipedia, though the website features articles on such other, perhaps more scandalous shocksites as goatse (hello.jpg) or 2girls1cup; any attempt to create a page pertaining to smile.jpg is summarily deleted by any of the encyclopedia’s many admins.
Encounters with smile.jpg are the stuff of internet legend. Mary E.’s story is not unique; there are unverified rumors of smile.jpg showing up in the early days of Usenet and even one persistent tale that in 2002 a hacker flooded the forums of humor and satire website Something Awful with a deluge of Smile.dog pictures, rendering almost half the forum’s users at the time epileptic. It is also said that in the mid-to-late 90s that smile.jpg circulated on usenet and as an attachment of a chain email with the subject line “SMILE!! GOD LOVES YOU!” Yet despite the huge exposure these stunts would generate, there are very few people who admit to having experienced any of them and no trace of the file or any link has ever been discovered.
Those who claim to have seen smile.jpg often weakly joke that they were far too busy to save a copy of the picture to their hard drive. However, all alleged victims offer the same description of the photo: A dog-like creature (usually described as appearing similar to a Siberian husky), illuminated by the flash of the camera, sits in a dim room, the only background detail that is visible being a human hand extending from the darkness near the left side of the frame. The hand is empty, but is usually described as “beckoning.” Of course, most attention is given to the dog (or dog-creature, as some victims are more certain than others about what they claim to have seen). The muzzle of the beast is reputedly split in a wide grin, revealing two rows of very white, very straight, very sharp, very human-looking teeth.
This is, of course, not a description given immediately after viewing the picture, but rather a recollection of the victims, who claim to have seen the picture endlessly repeated in their mind’s eye during the time they are, in reality, having epileptic fits. These fits are reported to continue indeterminably, often while the victims sleep, resulting in very vivid and disturbing nightmares. These may be treated with medication, though in some cases it is more effective than others.
Mary E., I assumed, was not on effective medication. That was why after my visit to her apartment in 2007 I sent out feelers to several folklore- and urban legend-oriented newsgroups, websites, and mailing lists, hoping to find the name of a supposed victim of smile.jpg who felt more interested in talking about his experiences. For a time nothing happened and at length I forgot completely about my pursuits, since I had begun my freshman year of college and was quite busy. Mary contacted me via email, however, near the beginning of March 2008.

To: jml@****.com
From: marye@****.net
Subj: Last summer’s interview

Dear Mr. L.,

I am incredibly sorry about my behavior last summer when you came to interview me. I hope you understand that it was no fault of yours, but rather my own problems that led me to act out as I did. I realized that I could have handled the situation more decorously; however, I hope you will forgive me. At the time, I was afraid.

You see, for fifteen years I have been haunted by smile.jpg. Smile.dog comes to me in my sleep every night. I know that sounds silly, but it is true. There is an ineffable quality about my dreams, my nightmares, that makes them completely unlike any real dreams I have ever had. I do not move and do not speak. I simply look ahead, and the only thing ahead of me is the scene from that horrible picture. I see the beckoning hand, and I see Smile.dog. It talks to me.
It is not a dog, of course, though I am not quite sure what it really is. It tells me it will leave me alone if only I do as it asks. All I must do, it says, is “spread the word.” That is how it phrases its demands. And I know exactly what it means: it wants me to show it to someone else.

And I could. The week after my incident I received in the mail a manila envelope with no return address. Inside was only a 3 ½ -inch floppy diskette. Without having to check, I knew precisely what was on it.
I thought for a long time about my options. I could show it to a stranger, a coworker… I could even show it to Terence, as much as the idea disgusted me. And what would happen then? Well, if Smile.dog kept its word I could sleep. Yet if it lied, what would I do? And who was to say something worse would not come for me if I did as the creature asked?
So I did nothing for fifteen years, though I kept the diskette hidden amongst my things. Every night for fifteen years Smile.dog has come to me in my sleep and demanded that I spread the word. For fifteen years I have stood strong, though there have been hard times. Many of my fellow victims on the BBS board where I first encountered smile.jpg stopped posting; I heard some of them committed suicide. Others remained completely silent, simply disappearing off the face of the web. They are the ones I worry about the most.
I sincerely hope you will forgive me, Mr. L., but last summer when you contacted me and my husband about an interview I was near the breaking point. I decided I was going to give you the floppy diskette. I did not care if Smile.dog was lying or not, I wanted it to end. You were a stranger, someone I had no connection with, and I thought I would not feel sorrow when you took the diskette as part of your research and sealed your fate.
Before you arrived I realized what I was doing: was plotting to ruin your life. I could not stand the thought, and in fact I still cannot. I am ashamed, Mr. L., and I hope that this warning will dissuade you from further investigation of smile.jpg. You may in time encounter someone who is, if not weaker than I, then wholly more depraved, someone who will not hesitate to follow Smile.dog’s orders.

Stop while you are still whole.

Sincerely,
Mary E.

Terence contacted me later that month with the news that his wife had killed herself. While cleaning up the various things she’d left behind, closing email accounts and the like, he happened upon the above message. He was a man in shambles; he wept as he told me to listen to his wife’s advice. He’d found the diskette, he revealed, and burned it until it was nothing but a stinking pile of blackened plastic. The part that most disturbed him, however, was how the diskette had hissed as it melted. Like some sort of animal, he said.

I will admit that I was a little uncertain about how to respond to this. At first I thought perhaps it was a joke, with the couple belatedly playing with the situation in order to get a rise out of me. A quick check of several Chicago newspapers’ online obituaries, however, proved that Mary E. was indeed dead. There was, of course, no mention of suicide in the article. I decided that, for a time at least, I would not further pursue the subject of smile.jpg, especially since I had finals coming up at the end of May.
But the world has odd ways of testing us. Almost a full year after I’d returned from my disastrous interview with Mary E., I received another email:

To: jml@****.com
From: elzahir82@****.com
Subj: smile

Hello

I found your e-mail adress thru a mailing list your profile said you are interested in smiledog. I have saw it it is not as bad as every one says I have sent it to you here. Just spreading the word.

(:

The final line chilled me to the bone.

According to my email client there was one file attachment called, naturally, smile.jpg. I considered downloading it for some time. It was mostly likely a fake, I imagined, and even if it weren’t I was never wholly convinced of smile.jpg’s peculiar powers. Mary E.’s account had shaken me, yes, but she was probably mentally unbalanced anyway. After all, how could a simple image do what smile.jpg was said to accomplish? What sort of creature was it that could break one’s mind with only the power of the eye?

And if such things were patently absurd, then why did the legend exist at all?
If I downloaded the image, if I looked at it, and if Mary turned out to be correct, if Smile.dog came to me in my dreams demanding I spread the word, what would I do? Would I live my life as Mary had, fighting against the urge to give in until I died? Or would I simply spread the word, eager to be put to rest? And if I chose the latter route, how could I do it? Whom would I burden in turn?

If I went through with my earlier intention to write a short article about smile.jpg, I decided, I could attach it as evidence. And anyone who read the article, anyone who took interest, would be affected. And even assuming the smile.jpg attached to the email was genuine, would I be capricious enough to save myself in that manner?


Could I spread the word?

Yes, yes I could.
[spoiler]Image

I saw the image, then someone linked me the story. I WILL NOT READ IT. I saw the image and I can't sleep.

The thing I find with creepypasta is that it dosen't creep you out immediately. It creeps you out the morning after when you think you're safe having a shower but realize you can't wash your hair without closing your eyes, and there's no blanket to protect you, and you freak yourself out and open your eyes and get soap in them. =\ Every day this week.
Last edited by Istrom on Sat Mar 14, 2009 6:21 pm UTC, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Zeroignite » Fri Mar 13, 2009 3:44 am UTC

/thread
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby annals » Fri Mar 13, 2009 6:54 am UTC

Oh Christ. It's 11:50pm here and my rational self hates my lizard brain for refusing to scroll down to that pic. I'm still not gonna do it though.

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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby TaintedDeity » Fri Mar 13, 2009 7:38 am UTC

Fuuuck.
That wins. Forever.
I wonder who sat at home, drew that picture and wrote a damn story to go with it.
I'm shivering.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby DonChubby » Fri Mar 13, 2009 2:39 pm UTC

I actually think that picture is quite funny, but I can see how someone would find it creepy.
The story was good though.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Arancaytar » Fri Mar 13, 2009 2:51 pm UTC

Yesterday evening, I downloaded the smile.dog picture with wget, zipped and encrypted it, and will wait for a bright sunny day when I have more mental fortitude than right now.

Perhaps with a bottle of something strong nearby to wipe the short-term memory, a la Langford's BLIT. :P
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby wst » Fri Mar 13, 2009 5:15 pm UTC

Meh, I'm still sane from it. I find the wikipedia article on Necrotising Fasciitis worse for my mind. Especially *those* pictures.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Quadropus » Fri Mar 13, 2009 5:27 pm UTC

That picture looks like it should be the Joker's mum....
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Chfan » Fri Mar 13, 2009 5:29 pm UTC

Do I not want to know what smile.dog is?
Just FYI, the guy isn't avatar isn't me. But he seems pretty cool.

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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby annals » Fri Mar 13, 2009 5:46 pm UTC

I imagine it's simply a smiling dog with human teeth. Animals with human teeth are frickin' creepy. Though if it's just a drawing as TD says and not a photoshop edit type thing, I don't think I'd have a problem looking.

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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby Neuman » Fri Mar 13, 2009 5:47 pm UTC

Yeah, it's a great big disappointment. After reading the story before it, I was expecting something that would leave me a quivering wreck, but it was just a 'shopped picture of a dog with human teeth.

EDIT: Also, there's a lot more red than I would have expected.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby SecondTalon » Fri Mar 13, 2009 6:17 pm UTC

I wouldn't even call that a picture of a dog. Some canine-like animal, maybe skinned or something, sure, but nothing identifiable. Looks like it's wearing a wig, and is almost too.. comical to be scary or creepy. At least for me.

Besides, if dogs with human-like teeth are creepy, then this would be the apocalypse triplets.

Spoiler:
Shinzo never knew how freeing it was to have his house on fire. The firemen ran around him with hoses, but Shinzo didn’t care if every inch of it was incinerated. So much of his life was just maintaining possessions! He didn’t want to destroy them himself, but now that the only way to save them was to enter an inferno, he was content to let them burn. His old record albums, which he had been carting from house to house without even owning a record player any more, were no longer a concern. His college textbooks and old manga, which took up an entire room and were still in cardboard boxes, were no longer a concern. The heavy oak furniture carried up the stairs into the bedrooms, which he would invariably have to move back down when they moved next time, were no longer a concern. His wife came home from work, saw Shinzo standing by himself in front of the still-burning house, and began wailing. Shinzo tried to calm her down, to say that nothing inside the house mattered. His wife wailed even harder. She was still attached to the furniture, and the books, and the children.
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Re: ITT:Creepy

Postby annals » Fri Mar 13, 2009 7:02 pm UTC

SecondTalon wrote:Besides, if dogs with human-like teeth are creepy, then this would be the apocalypse triplets.

Yes. Yes it is.


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